by Rose Pressey
“Why not? She won’t know what you’re doing. She’s too busy on the phone.”
I pushed to my feet. “Okay, I guess . . . but I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
Charlotte motioned for me to hurry. “You won’t know until you look, now will you?”
I peeked into the kitchen and saw Marie by the window. She didn’t notice me as she spoke on the phone. I had to move quickly.
I looked around, unsure of where to start. In the living room, all I saw were knickknacks and a few books. To my left, I noticed a small room off to the side. It contained a desk and a couple chairs.
“That’s her office,” Charlotte said. “You should look in there.”
I glanced over to make sure that Marie wasn’t coming. I’d never done anything this risky until Charlotte had come into my life, but I guessed there was a first time for everything. I rushed into the room and weaved around the chairs to reach the desk.
It had one big drawer in the middle and four drawers on each side. I wasn’t sure if I would have time to look in all of them, so I started with the few papers on top of the desk.
As it turned out, I wouldn’t need to look in the drawers. I discovered a copy of the insurance policy that Bud had taken out on Charlotte.
If Charlotte hadn’t been standing right beside me, I would have hidden it from her. But there was no way to keep it from her. “Look at this. It’s the insurance policy that Bud had taken out on you.”
Her face sank. “Are you sure?”
“Unfortunately, yes. It is the exact paper.”
If Marie caught me in her office with the paper, what would she do?
I had no excuse for being in the room. I shoved the paper back under the stack where I’d found it. “We have to get out of here.”
Charlotte clutched her fists by her sides. “I can’t believe I trusted that woman.”
“Do you think she and Bud were in this together?” I asked.
Charlotte grimaced. “Bud doesn’t seem smart enough to pull that off. This has Marie written all over it. I bet this was all her idea. He was just stupid enough to go along with it, but he wasn’t the one who came up with the plan. No way.” Charlotte’s voice, usually soft, was flinty with anger. “Marie was conniving behind my back all along. And I was too dumb to even know what was going on. Maybe I wasn’t as good in business as I thought.”
“You had no way of knowing,” I offered.
Charlotte stood a little straighter. “You can’t leave that paper here. You need to show it to Detective Valentine.”
“You’re right. He needs to see the proof.” I rushed back and grabbed the paper. “What do I do with it?”
Charlotte motioned toward my chest. “Put it in your shirt.”
I stuffed the paper in my waistband and pulled the shirt over it. “How’s that?”
“Perfect.” Charlotte glanced at the door. “She’s coming.”
I rushed out of the room and practically dived onto the sofa where I’d been sitting before. I tried to steady my breath and pretend that nothing was wrong, as if I’d been sitting there all along.
“I will haunt those two for the rest of their lives,” Charlotte said.
Marie stepped into the room and eyed me suspiciously. Had she seen me leaving her office? By the look on her face, I knew she had her doubts about my visit.
“Now where were we?” Marie plastered on a fake smile.
“I do have one question,” I said as I picked up my glass from its coaster.
“Of course, what is it?” Marie asked through gritted teeth.
“I found a scarf. . . .”
“Was it in the clothing you bought at the estate sale?” she asked.
“No.” I chuckled. “This may seem a little wacky, but I have a friend who sometimes goes through trash cans looking for hidden treasures.”
Marie scowled as if the very idea was disgusting.
“Anyway, she happened to pass by your garbage can and took a look.”
“She was going through my trash?” Marie said, looking offended. “Is that even legal?”
“I don’t know. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Marie said, “Well, what is it then?”
“She found a scarf in your trash.”
Marie’s face turned red. “I am furious that she would go through my things.”
“Well, did you mean to throw it away?” I asked, getting to the point.
Marie objected. “That’s not the point. The point is she should stay out of other people’s belongings.”
“I’ll make sure to tell her to stay out of it. Anyway, was that your scarf?”
“Obviously it was mine if it was in my trash.” Anger sparked in her eyes.
“Charlotte had a scarf just like that. It was a rare scarf.”
Marie said quickly, “Charlotte left the scarf in my car. I had no need for the thing so I threw it away.”
That didn’t add up. She was anxious to have clothing to remember Charlotte by, yet when she had one of Charlotte’s items, she’d tossed it in the trash. I thought she knew what I was thinking.
Charlotte said, “No way. I remember wearing the scarf the moment I was murdered. I was attacked from behind, though, and I couldn’t see my killer.”
It was hard listening to Charlotte talk and at the same time, conceal my growing panic.
Marie leaned back in her chair and smiled at me, but I knew it wasn’t a friendly smile.
“You’re not telling me the truth, are you?” I asked.
“You’re a smart little Cookie, aren’t you?” Marie asked, getting up.
I could hear the rage in her tone.
Chapter 33
Cookie’s Savvy Vintage Fashion Shopping Tip
Have fun with vintage clothing!
Make the outfit your own.
After all, it has many years of wear left.
“I am so furious.” If Charlotte could have attacked Marie she would have. “Of all the evil and vile things to do. She murdered me,” Charlotte yelled. “How could she? What did I ever do to her? I tried to help her as much as I could and this is the thanks I get.”
I stood up and faced Marie. “You killed Charlotte, didn’t you?” Sweat broke out on my forehead. I couldn’t believe I asked her that question. And the bad part was I already knew the answer. “You killed Charlotte Meadows. You were in cahoots with Bud Butler to share life insurance money. And you killed Edward Andersen because he was getting close to finding out what happened.”
“Yeah, I did it, and Charlotte deserved it. She treated me as if I wasn’t a business partner. I was better at real estate than her. She never let me have a chance to showcase my skills.” Disgust filled Marie’s voice.
I was in serious trouble. I suddenly realized she wouldn’t hesitate to kill me, too.
I needed an escape plan. I looked over her shoulder and gauged the distance to the front door. I would have to run past her, which would allow her to grab me. That would never work. I thought of my phone in my pocket. If only I could call Detective Valentine. I definitely needed backup.
I barely had time to register the fact that Marie was moving and she was grabbing me. She slammed my body to the floor and took the scarf from around her neck. In one movement, she wrapped it around my neck.
Charlotte was frantically trying to move something with her hand in order to distract Marie. She just didn’t have the psychic energy necessary.
I grabbed at the scarf as Marie applied more pressure. My airway was being compromised. I was having a hard time breathing, and would soon pass out. The more I tried to get her off me, the more she tried to strangle me with the scarf.
I tried to grab her shoulders in order to push her off, but I didn’t have the strength. I reached up and tried to wiggle my fingers under the fabric of the scarf to loosen the hold she had on me. If only I could get some air . . .
A knock sounded on the front door. Marie looked up but didn’t loosen her hold
on me.
A crash sounded. Startled, Marie flinched and loosened her hold. I pushed my fingers under the material and gasped, breathing in much needed air. Another crash sounded. Charlotte had managed to knock over two vases of flowers. Her paranormal skills were improving—just when she needed them the most.
The front door rattled, creating the distraction I needed. I pushed Marie off me and grabbed the scarf from around my neck. I wrapped it around her hands and sat on top of her. What I was going to do from this point, I wasn’t sure. I had to call the police, but my phone was in my pocket. I needed to get it out without allowing her to get the upper hand again.
“Let her have it, Cookie.” Charlotte shook her fist.
What happened next was only what I could call a miracle. The front door burst open and the tall lanky man who had followed me from Cindy’s house was in the living room. Even in casual clothing, I recognized him. He pointed a gun at Marie and me. “Freeze. Nobody move,” he commanded.
I lifted my hands in the air. “Who the heck are you?”
“Is everyone okay?” he asked.
“Does it look like we are okay? She is a murderer.” I pointed to Marie.
“Yeah, I figured that out.”
“That still leaves the question as to who you are,” I said.
“My name is Vernon Olsen. I’m a private detective hired by the insurance company to find out who murdered Charlotte Meadows.”
“Leave it to the insurance company to be the only ones interested in who murdered me,” Charlotte huffed.
I wondered if he was telling the truth. “You’re the one who followed me. You and another man.”
“He’s an associate. He was helping me that day.”
“Do you think you can stop pointing that gun at me?” I asked, getting off Marie and pulling her to her feet.
He lowered the weapon and gestured at Marie. “Do you need help with her?”
“What do you think?”
He shoved the gun back in its holster and crossed the floor. Marie looked like she was about to make a run for it, so I removed the vintage belt from around my waist and handed it to Vernon.
He restrained her ankles. “There, that should keep her from going anywhere.”
Marie’s face was red and her eyes slits of rage.
“She killed Edward Andersen, too. Do you know him?”
He placed her in a chair. “Yes, he was an investigator with my agency.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Dylan’s number. As soon as the detective picked up, I said, “I’m at Marie Vance’s home and I need you to come here right away. She confessed to both murders.”
“I’ll be there as quickly as possible. Did she hurt you?”
“I’m okay, but hurry.”
The line went dead and I hoped that meant he was on his way. “Why did you come here?” I asked the private detective.
“I was following you. When you came in here I got nervous. I snooped around the windows, and I saw her on top of you.”
“Well, thank-you. . . . It’s a little creepy that you were following me, but thank-you.”
“It’s my job.”
Sirens sounded outside and Dylan quickly appeared in the foyer. His gun was aimed at Marie. Worry flashed in his eyes. “You put yourself in a dangerous situation.”
Tension eased from my shoulders as relief washed over me. I pushed hair away from my eyes. “I’m fine.”
A funny expression crossed his face when he saw the scarf and belt tied around Marie’s hands and feet.
“I improvised,” I said.
A slight smile crossed his face before he handcuffed Marie and removed the scarf and belt. More uniformed officers entered the room. Dylan stepped over to speak with them while another officer escorted Marie out of the house.
“Get out of my house, Cookie Chanel. You have no right to be here,” she yelled as she was hauled past me. Her face was red and her eyes full of rage.
“How did you find yourself in Marie Vance’s home with her tied up and making a confession to you?” Dylan asked.
I winked at Charlotte when no one was watching. “I had a little help from a friend.”
Charlotte smiled at me.
“Heather found a scarf and I knew that it was a rare collectible. Charlotte had owned one just like it. When Heather said she was Dumpster-diving and found it in Marie’s trash, I knew Marie had to know more about Charlotte’s murder. So I came here to confront her,” I said.
“Leave it to you to solve a murder with fashion,” he said with the smallest curve of his lips.
“Fashion is part of our lives more than you realize,” I said.
He chuckled. “I guess you’re right.” He looked over at the man standing in the corner of the room, speaking with another officer.
“That’s the private eye who had been following me. Apparently the insurance company hired him. Edward Andersen was with his company, as well.” I grinned. “I told you someone was following me. I bet you can confirm that Marie was the one leaving messages on my blog. She admitted that she did it,” I said.
“Well, it looks as if you have the whole case wrapped up for us,” Dylan said.
“I have to confess that I was in Cindy’s home the other day, but I didn’t break in. Cindy was there and let me in her house, but for some reason she took off and never come back. The insurance investigators showed up and I hid in the closet.” I waited for his reaction.
He waited for me to continue.
I shrugged. “I found a second scarf there, and that helped me figure out that Marie was the murderer.”
Dylan shoved his hands into his pockets. “That’s strange. Cindy has been telling anyone who will listen that you were at her house and the ghost of Charlotte Meadows was with you.”
I attempted a smile. “Well, that is crazy. Why would she say such a thing?”
“I don’t know, but she said she saw her plain as I’m looking at you right now.”
I thought about telling him that it was true—that Charlotte Meadows was standing beside us, but I decided against it. He probably wouldn’t believe me, anyway. Sometimes keeping a secret was the right thing to do. I was just glad that she had helped me and that I’d been able to help her.
What would she do now? Would she leave? Her murder had been solved so there was no reason for her to hang around.
I glanced over to my ghostly friend, but she wasn’t there. I wondered if she’d already left this dimension. Surely she would have said good-bye first. But maybe she wasn’t given that option. Wherever she went might have called for her with no warning.
“Listen, I have to finish up here, but I’ll stop by your shop later, okay? Probably tomorrow,” Dylan said.
I noticed he was wearing his vintage shoes. Of course, a wide smile spread across my face. “Yeah, I’ll talk to you later.”
“That was a close one,” Charlotte said from over my shoulder.
I jumped. “Where did you go?”
“I walked outside on the porch to watch the action. It’s better than TV.”
Detective Dylan Valentine stepped into It’s Vintage, Y’all. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.
“Wow, he looks dapper,” Charlotte said.
Yes, he certainly did look sharp in the vintage outfit that I’d picked out for him. “You’re wearing the clothes you got here.”
“That’s what I bought them for,” Dylan said. “I thought it would be fun to try out this new look. You know, when I’m off duty? What do you think?”
“I like it.”
Wind Song meowed and weaved around his legs.
“She likes it, too.”
He reached down and picked her up. “We questioned Marie Vance for three hours last night. She waived the right to counsel and spilled everything. She convinced Bud to take out the insurance policy to set him up as the suspect for Charlotte’s murder and avoid suspicion on herself.”
“I can’t believe they betrayed me like that,” Char
lotte said.
Dylan set the cat down with a gentle pat. “Marie placed the handkerchief at his home, but she didn’t know that she’d lost one out of the set she took from Charlotte’s home.”
“Why did Marie want Charlotte dead?” I asked.
“Marie had been embezzling money from Charlotte and she knew that Charlotte was close to discovering the truth.”
“I should have known,” Charlotte said. “Ask him if he knows why she wanted to buy my clothing from you.”
“Why did she want to buy Charlotte’s clothing from me?” I asked.
“Because she thought you had the scarf that she had used as the murder weapon,” Dylan said.
“Now I remember,” Charlotte said as if she’d just had an ah-ha moment. “I did confront her about the missing money. She came up from behind, wrapped the scarf around my neck, pulled me back, and the next thing I knew I was dead.”
I doubted the courts would allow me to testify on Charlotte’s behalf. Her memory would be no good for the case against Marie. It was a good thing Marie had confessed.
“Did Marie say why she killed Edward Andersen?” I asked Dylan.
“He’d figured out she was the murderer. She called him and pretended to be Cindy Johnson and set up the nine AM meeting.”
“That’s a lot to absorb. It’s a good thing I figured out who the killer was,” I said.
“How did you figure it out?” he asked.
“I just got lucky.” I winked at Charlotte and Wind Song.
“I wonder if you have time later, could we go for that walk?” He flashed a grin.
“I’d like that,” I said.
I promised Dylan that I’d stay out of police investigations from now on . . . maybe.
Is Your Cat Psychic?
Take this simple quiz to find out if your cat has supernatural powers. If you answer yes to three or more, your kitty might have a sixth sense.
1. Does your cat have an odd fascination with Ouija boards or tarot cards?
2. Does your cat stare at a wall or ceiling and meow at something you can’t see?
3. Does your cat sense when you need attention or love and curl up beside you?