A Candy Cane Cat-astrophe

by Addison Moore

  “Well, well, King,” I whisper, looking out toward the ballroom. “It looks as if Carol Bransford and I have something to talk about, after all.” King gives me a tap over the chest before leaping out of my arms.

  Carol and Holly certainly had an incident at their old sorority house.

  Now to find out exactly how involved either of them was.

  I’m guessing if Carol were involved, she’d do anything to stop Holly from spreading the word.

  It’s the exact type of blackmail Holly Wright lived for.

  Or should I say died for?

  Chapter 14

  I’ve always been an ardent lover of the holidays.

  Christmastime in Hastings had just as much cheer as it did fear, but growing up, that didn’t bother me much. I miss all of it. I miss my high-strung parents bickering. I miss their salty language. I miss Nana Rose working in the kitchen, making the house smell like the best Italian restaurant this side of the old country. I miss my brother Lorenzo and all of the habits that once annoyed me. I would give anything right now to have him walk into my living room and steal the remote so he could yell at the TV for the next three hours. I miss the way my family gathered around the tree on Christmas morning, the way we spent the day visiting relatives and showing off our new holiday duds. But mostly, I miss my father’s warm embrace and my mother’s soft eyes. And, I miss every last bit of Nana Rose. My family wasn’t perfect, but at least we had each other. I’m not perfect, but I’m darn glad I get to celebrate another holiday outside of a government correctional institution.

  Holly Wright wasn’t perfect, but that doesn’t mean someone had the right to strangle the life out of her because they felt like it. But I have a feeling the killer didn’t do this on a whim. It was very much planned. I have a gut feeling the killer felt as if they were running out of options fast. And Holly Wright simply had to go.

  I spot the woman I’m looking for as she talks to a couple of people by the entry, and by the time I head over, the small group has disbanded and she’s standing there alone.

  “Carol,” I say, mustering a cheerful tone. “You look great tonight.” And oddly, I mean it. Her vanilla-colored hair is swept back into a French twist, and she’s wearing a bright red sweater with felt cutouts of gingerbread men dancing across the front. But what have really caught my eye are those glowing navy velvet skinny jeans she’s donned along with it. I’d love to know where I could find me a pair, but I force myself to tend to the matter at hand.

  “Hey, Bowie.” She offers a peaceable smile. “Great party.” She snatches a glass of eggnog off the table next to us. “Would you like some?”

  “No, thank you.” I study her a moment, so very calm, so very confident. “Can I speak with you?”

  “Sure.” She blinks my way as I lead us out of the ballroom, through the boisterous crowd, and into the next alcove, which leads to the library. “Would you mind if we stepped in here?” I ask. “I can’t seem to hear myself think.”

  “Are you kidding?” She laughs. “The Mortimer Library is the stuff legends are made of. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since Stitch Witchery. Besides, my ears can use a reprieve from the noise despite the fact I just got here.”

  We step inside, but I leave the door open in the event one of us needs to make a quick escape—namely me. I’ve cornered my fair share of suspects over these last few months, and I know enough not to put myself in a dangerous position with them, especially not alone.

  “This place really stuns.” She takes a breath as she steps deeper into the massive room, and about a dozen cats dart to the four corners of this haunted preserve. “I really need to come here more often.”

  “Feel free to stop by anytime. I work at the café, I’ll gladly let you in.” I study her a moment. “Carol, the reason I asked to speak with you is because I know what Holly Wright had over you.”

  She blinks back with surprise. “Holly?” Her brows touch in the middle. “What’s this about? Did they arrest the killer?”

  “No,” I say. “But I think they’re getting close.” Or more to the point, I am. “You mentioned you went to Benton with Holly, is that right?”

  “Yes.” She nods. “We were sorority sisters.”

  “At Alpha Pi. You happened to graduate the same year there was a huge scandal involving girls from your sorority. I guess there were a handful of girls who thought they would get creative when it came to the ways they were paying for their tuition—there were videos involved. You were one of those girls, weren’t you, Carol?”

  Her cheeks burn bright. “I remember that scandal, but no, I wasn’t one of them.” She swallows hard.

  “You were one of them, and that’s what Holly held over your head all these years. You sold yourself for money, and there was digital proof. Holly had that footage, didn’t she?”

  She closes her eyes for a few seconds too long, and it tells me everything I need to know.

  “You worked for her uncle at the Dillinger Distillery for years,” I say. “And when she was ousted, you didn’t feel like following.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Her voice is sharp and tight. “I wanted to stay. I was recently promoted. I was the CFO of the entire corporation. Holly’s uncle trusted me. It was his niece he didn’t trust.”

  “But she wasn’t about to let you stay. You belonged to Holly. She owned you. She wasn’t about to watch you prosper while she burned.”

  A dull laugh thumps from her. “It’s as if you knew her. She was content enough once I told her I’d work at the DoReMi as a waitress. But you know what they say—the cream rises to the top. I was the manager within a year.”

  I nod. “And then her uncle passed away. Holly wasn’t in his will, was she?”

  “Nope. She was left in the dust. And with the company grappling in the wake of his loss, they asked me to come back to the board. As soon as Holly found out about it, she was livid.”

  “But why kill her?”

  Her eyes flash like fire. “What makes you so sure I did it? I spoke to both Detective Grimsley and Detective Wexler. No one saw a thing, no fingerprints.” Her lips curve in a malevolent fashion. “There’s simply no proof.”

  “That scratch on your arm—”

  “Cat scratch fever. I went to the doctor the next day. She confirmed a bacterial infection common from the scratch of a cat. It’s well-documented.”

  “Lucky.” I close my eyes as a thought comes to me. “The bank.” I blink her way. “You were across the street at the bank. You were standing under the sign, moving right to left, studying the tree the town was about to light up, but not because you were interested in any of the festivities going on. You wanted to make sure you stood out of the way of the security camera. You were judging to see the very best angle to get away with murder.” My mouth falls open as something she said to me early on comes to the forefront of my mind. “That day we talked about Holly’s Insta Pictures account, you said the killer and the hacker might just be two different people. You were sure of it—because you knew you didn’t hack into Holly’s account. It was Kaila.”

  Her left brow arches into her forehead. “Kaila?” She ticks her head to the side. “Maybe she killed Holly?”

  “No, that was you. Holly had you by the cookies, and you wanted out of that mess. You weren’t too interested in her leading you around by the nose for the rest of your life. You were putting an end to it that night. Nothing was going to stand in the way of you taking the helm at the distillery again.”

  Her chest expands with her next breath. “That’s right.” Her shoulders give a hard bounce. “Not only was I invited back onto the board, but I was invited straight into a leadership position. Holly could go to hell for all I cared. I was through with her threats. She came after me that morning and told me she was going to make the footage she had of me public. She knew that would end any hope I had of getting onto a board anywhere. I wasn’t going to let her do it, Bowie.” She takes a step toward me. “I couldn’t. Don’t you see? Holl
y Wright had been terrorizing me for far too long. And do you want to hear something hilarious? I had tried to turn the table on her years ago. I pilfered thousands of dollars from Dillinger Distillery and made all arrows point to Holly. I wanted her gone from the distillery long before her uncle asked her to leave. She was already making me miserable. I was nothing more than a puppet on a string to her. I got her ousted, all right, but I didn’t foresee her taking me along with her for the unemployment ride. My God, she was a curse to deal with.”

  She continues to step my way, and I take equal steps back.

  “I knew I had one chance,” she pants. “It had to be that night. She was going to release everything she had the very next morning. I had to think fast. I knew those cameras at the bank were my biggest hurdle. They were facing every which way, and I needed to make sure that nobody saw the two of us. It was dark behind that evergreen. Augustus was just there—arguing with her. It was as if he had lured her into the perfect position for me.” A heady laugh escapes her, and she looks to the ceiling. “It was as if the stars had aligned. It was meant to be.” She holds out her hands and looks at them. “I thought I’d strangle her, but then I saw the string lights on the ground, and I grabbed them and worked fast.”

  A smattering of miniature stars enters into the library, followed by a bright pink aura surrounding a ghost with flowing red hair and the look of worry rife in her glowing eyes.

  “Oh, Bowie, he’s after me again,” Hazel rants. “And that machine he has? It’s doing something to me. I’m in trouble. You have to help.”

  Carol swipes something off the counter and strikes me over the temple with it as hard as if she hit me with a brick.

  A horrible groan comes from me, and I look over in time to see Carol coming back at me with a book as thick as a dictionary.

  “Bowie!” Hazel’s voice riots so loud it seems to vibrate the entire room.

  I duck in time to evade that deadly tome and end up ramming my head into Carol Bransford’s stomach.

  A horrible oof sound expels from her as I tackle her to the ground. She puts up a good fight as a wrestling match breaks out between us.

  “I’m sorry, Bowie.” She grunts. “But I’m afraid I can’t let you live.” She wraps her hands around my neck. “I can’t lose everything now. Holly was my nightmare. I can’t let you be another one.”

  Try as I might I can’t seem to evict her fingers from around my neck.

  Can’t breathe.

  The open door catches my attention, so I do the only thing I can. I roll us in that direction, flailing my limbs in hopes someone will peer inside and see me.

  Hazel zips over and tries her best to pluck the madwoman off of me, but to no avail.

  The glorious ghost lets out a sharp cry of frustration. “I don’t know why I can move a book, hold a cat, or open a door, but I have no control over a person,” she wails. “Wait! I’ve got an idea.” She zips to the entry, and soon the library doors are opening and shutting at a quickened pace, and in less than five seconds a woman steps in.

  Nora!

  “Hey!” the angry looking brunette shouts. “Woodley Sheriff’s Department—freeze!”

  And just like that, it’s over.

  Nora pulls Carol off of me, and I quickly repeat her entire confession.

  Nora cuffs the woman and calls it in on her phone before looking my way.

  “Bowie, get Shep,” she barks my way. “He’s right outside the door to the café.”

  I stagger my way out into the alcove, still gulping for air. A lot of good it did me to keep this door open. Thank God for Hazel. If she weren’t as dead as a doornail, I would be just that.

  My feet carry me over to the foyer, and I’m about to head toward the café when I spot Shep and Regina with their heads knit together, whispering between themselves, and I quickly duck behind the white flocked tree sitting in the entry.

  “I’m going to get her this time, Shep,” Regina pants. “And there’s nothing you can do about it. And I’m going to make sure she stays out of our lives forever.”

  The vision!

  “No,” Shep barks back.

  He leans her way. “If anyone takes her down, it’s me. I’ve invested personal resources to carry on this farce. My neck is on the line—my reputation.”

  She runs her finger down his tie. “Oh, go ahead. If things work out, it will be the biggest sting operation of your life.”

  “That’s it.” I burst forth, panting, still dizzy from nearly having the life snuffed out of me. “How dare you.” I point hard at Shep as tears spring to my eyes, but I’m quick to blink them away. “I expected it from her, but you?” I give him a shove to the chest. “How dare you make me think you cared about me! How dare you wrap me around your heart and make me fall in love with you!” I smack him on the chest and he gently pulls me in by the wrist as those navy-rimmed eyes of his eat intently into mine.

  “Did you just say you were falling in love with me?”

  “Yes,” I say above a whisper. “I opened myself up to you. I love you.” I study his face. “I would do anything for you. And this”—I point over to Regina—“this is what I get in return?”

  His lips cinch into an obnoxious smile. His eyes flash with a cocky gleam to them.

  “I love you, too, Bowie Binx.” Something in his eyes softens. “And I don’t know what you think you saw here, but I can promise you, there was nothing nefarious going on.”

  An explosion of light flashes to my right, and Hazel Newton appears in all her unearthly glory.

  “That’s the woman!” She points hard to Regina. “She’s the one trying to evict me.”

  Shep glances to the right then the left, his head never moving an inch.

  “Did you hear that?” he hisses as if he were genuinely worried.

  Hazel gasps. “Bowie, he’s touching you!”

  A small cry comes from me as I quickly pull away. I’m a conduit for the dead—Hazel told me all about it a few weeks back.

  Shep shakes his head. “Who said that?” He gives a quick look around as Hazel floats right out the window.

  Regina steps my way in a bright red sweater with a blinking Christmas tree on the front of it, and I can’t help but note she’s donned the exact same sweater I’ve got on. I’d say jinx, but she’d simply accuse me of name-calling. She wouldn’t be wrong.

  “I bet it’s that ghost again!” she riots over at Shep. “I told you I’m not going crazy. This place is haunted, and that stupid exterminator we called isn’t doing a darn thing to help.”

  I gasp. “Is that what this is about? Shep, you called an exterminator on Hazel Newton’s ghost?” My fingers slap over my lips in a hurry. I’d like to say the eggnog went to my head, but I haven’t had a single sip. Most likely, I’m still reeling from the lack of oxygen and maybe that blow to my temple.

  “Ah ha!” Regina shouts. “Even Bowie here realizes it. We need to hire someone with professional credentials. I’ll have the pesky poltergeist out by the new year.”

  “No,” I bark over at her. “I’ll handle it. Besides, don’t you have better things to do than chase invisible beings around this dusty old place? There are men in that ballroom, Regina—available men. I’m only going to say this once. Stay away from Shep.” I give his tie a little yank. “This one is mine.”

  Regina groans hard as she shoots me a look. “I’ll speak to you both later.” She takes off just as the manor is infiltrated with a mob of Woodley’s finest.

  Shep begins to step in their direction, and I pull him back.

  “Holly Wright’s killer was caught.” I bite down over the smile budding on my lips. “By yours truly.” I tell him everything from Kaila and her hacking ways, to Carol and her dark confession.

  “Bowie.” He touches his fingers to my neck. “I wasn’t there with you. I couldn’t protect you.”

  I close my eyes a moment.

  “Hazel was there.” I blink over at him. “Shep, I think I’m ready to let you in on this la
st intimate part of me.”

  His lids hood low, and a goofy grin floats to his face. “Your cabin or mine?”

  “No, not that.” A dull laugh pumps from me. “But hold onto that thought just in case.” I press my lips tightly. “Shep, what I’m about to tell you is going to be hard to believe, and it might just change the way you feel about me forever.”

  He shakes his head. “No.” He dots a kiss to my lips. “I promise that’s impossible.”

  My gaze hangs onto his for one final moment before our worlds change forever.

  “I have a strange ability—Lola has it, too.” I hitch my head toward the ballroom. “Our Nana Rose passed down a lot more than just a few recipes. She also passed down the ability to see into the future.”

  He gives a solid blink. “Okay.” He sniffs. “Did not see that coming.”

  “That’s because you’re not sibylline.” I bite down hard on my lower lip, and then I fill him in on all I can—the transmundane umbrella of powers, my strange new ability to see Hazel Newton’s ghost after getting pegged in the head with a pumpkin by none other than Regina. Including the fact I keep seeing snippets into the future, and misinterpreting them every single time.

  Shep swallows hard and nods. “I’ve heard strange things before, but this—wow, it’s right up there. Are you sure about this? I’ve seen you fall into that trance-like state. Maybe you’re having some kind of a petit mal seizure, or your brain is trying—”

  “It’s trying to give me a hint of things to come. This little scene with you and Regina? I was privy to it last week. And I won’t lie, I thought maybe the two of you were plotting to turn me in.”