by Molly Fitz
I had to keep her talking. And though triggering her issue with heights again by reminding her of what she feared was probably the better choice, I couldn’t in good conscience use her phobia against her. “You knew Helen was poisoning the mice,” I said.
Shauna turned back to me. There was that characteristic shrug of hers. “I’m a vet,” she said. “Of course I knew. It was easy to find, too. I figured she’d keep it somewhere out of people’s view and the shed was the obvious choice. I wasn’t going to do anything. And then Natasha was awful to you and she kept being more and more awful to everyone. I overheard her say she was going to create three separate blogs, one for this place, one for Lou Ellen and one for you.” She shook her head then. “I couldn’t let her ruin anyone else. I’d let it go on too long.”
“You realized Daphne’s suggestion was the answer,” I said.
Shauna’s hands rose and fell. “It was so simple. I just… dosed the icing. Helen left them out on the pantry shelf, in that container. Took about a minute to mix it into the buttercream.”
“Shauna,” I said. “What if someone else had eaten one? Did you think of that?”
She shuddered, face contorting in the light of a bolt hitting offshore. “I snuck downstairs after everyone went to bed,” she said. “I waited to see if she’d take the bait. Almost delivered them to her, but Daphne was right. Five minutes after I was done Natasha showed up and that was that.” Her face contorted, begging me to understand. “I wasn’t going to let anyone else get hurt.”
A murderer with a conscience who’d justified it to herself.
“I’m not sorry she’s dead,” Shauna said then, shoulders squaring, body swaying with the wind. She’d made some decision in her own mind, I could see it in her stance, hear the decisiveness in her voice even over the wind. “I thought I could get away with it, get back to the mainland before anyone figured it out. The storm came up, but it happened after she went in the kitchen. I didn’t realize until the power went out I was in trouble.” She stopped talking a moment, fixing me with a grim expression. “You’re right, I won’t make it to shore in that.” She pointed over the cliff. “If I even make it to the bottom alive. But I have to try.”
I lunged for her, a stupid, stupid idea, knowing even if I did catch her she’d fight me and we’d both probably go over the edge.
But I wasn’t the only one out here with Shauna, as it turned out. I spotted the ginger streak a half second before the inn’s cat, a tiny dark mouse racing ahead, skimmed around the edge of the lighthouse and between Shauna and the first step. While she may have had control of her terror for the moment, I heard the vet scream as, startled by the interruption, she slipped on the grass, lower body sliding out from under her, flipping over on her stomach even as she went over the edge.
Panicked eyes locked on mine.
I don’t remember how I got there, to the lip of the cliff. Would later have zero recollection of moving the distance between me and her. All I could recall in hindsight was the touch of her hands as I caught both of hers before she could slip away completely, grunting when I landed on my belly on the ground, pulling with all my might to keep her from falling.
Shauna’s feet scrabbled on the steps, pushing her upward, until she lay, panting and sobbing, beside me, rain and wind buffeting us both, lightning followed by thunder a chorus for her weeping while I gently held her and tried not to let my compassion get the better of me.
Chapter Twelve
Sheriff Cherise King arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me, grinning with those shining, white teeth flashing against her gorgeous dark skin, her tall body in full uniform, black and khaki suiting her. She’d tucked her mirrored aviators into her short hair, shaking her head at me as her two deputies escorted the cuffed and compliant Shauna Raine to the ferry dock.
“I’ll talk to Helen,” Cherise said, her shoulder receiver muttering with voices she turned down as she spoke. “But she’s looking at a pretty steep fine for the poison.”
As she should, though I did feel for her. “Thanks for getting here so quickly.” The storm cleared off about an hour after I saved Shauna, the vet coming back inside with me and quietly waiting for authorities to arrive to my surprise. Maybe the near-death experience had been enough for her. Or, perhaps, it had been what I said when we reached the kitchen again.
“Your father wouldn’t want you to kill for him,” I said. “Or die, either.”
Whatever her reason for giving up the fight, she wasn’t my problem anymore. Not that the compassion that tried to win a few hours ago wasn’t still giving me angst. It would for a while, I think, because while Shauna was a murderer, I wasn’t above admitting in her position? I wouldn’t promise I’d hold back, either.
A chattering line of women walked past us, heading for the ferry and the mainland.
“Power’s still out,” Cherise said, “but it won’t be long before it’s restored. You coming home?”
I nodded, waving to Fern Baker who waved back, though she didn’t stop to talk, while Lou Ellen joined us.
“I did my best to help with her fear,” my friend said. “I think it worked. She made it through the rest of the storm and seemed okay.”
I hugged her. “You did an amazing thing for Fern.” Thought about it. “Just, next time you decide to have one of these things? Don’t ask me. I’m busy.”
Lou Ellen laughed sadly, Cherise joining in.
“Sounds like you might be ready for a change of career anyway,” my sheriff friend said, winking at Lou Ellen. “Now that you’re divorced from that FBI guy, maybe your real life purpose is showing up.”
Not that Cherise and Trent didn’t get along and were, in fact friends. He was the reason we had her as our sheriff, a case they worked together in Chicago years ago sparking a friendship that culminated in Wallace being lucky enough to have her. So her teasing made me grin instead of groan.
“Yeah, no thanks,” I said, arm around Lou Ellen. “That’s the only dead by unnatural causes I’d like to encounter for the rest of my life. Not to mention murderer.”
“Amen to that,” Lou Ellen said.
Cherise took her leave as two EMTs emerged from the main building with a body bag on a stretcher, my friend sighing at my side.
“I’m so sorry, Seph,” Lou Ellen said, melancholy weighing her voice down. “This was a terrible idea.”
“No,” I said, leading her toward the ferry and our waiting bags, time to go and put all this behind us. “You keep doing you. Meanwhile, I think I need a retreat of my own.” I bent and retrieved my shoulder bag, the handle of my carry on. “Did I tell you? I rented a place up north, little town called Zephyr. Four whole weeks, starting next week. Just me and the beach and gin and all the clearing I can handle.”
Lou Ellen smiled at me. “That sounds like Heaven,” she said. “You deserve it, Seph. I hope you have a fantastic time.”
As we boarded the ferry, I was surprised to find the ginger cat sitting on one of the benches, staring at us. Lou Ellen let out a low cry and sat next to her, the striped beauty instantly rubbing her cheek against my friend’s hand.
“Looks like someone’s tired of mice,” I said. “Thanks for saving the day, miss.”
The cat looked up at me, winked one amber eye, then went back to her purring and scratches while the ferry’s mournful horn sounded and carried us back home.
All was well that ended well. So why then was I suddenly fighting off goosebumps and the odd premonition that I’d somehow opened Pandora’s box?
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We hope you enjoyed Murder and Mice and Everything Vice! It's part of the “Persephone Pringle Cozy Mysteries” series, which will be coming soon from Whiskered Mysteries.
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If you liked this, you'll also love Bed and Breakfast and Murder, book one of the “Fiona Fleming Cozy Mysteries.” A girl, a pug and murder. Who knew running a bed and breakfast could be so deadly? Find out when you start reading today!
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What Ghost Around
by Jane Hinchey
About this Story
WHAT GHOST AROUND
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An overweight British shorthair cat travels to a tropical island and discovers the biggest sandbox on earth
Winning a vacation to Wild Haven Lagoon is as exciting as it is unexpected. After all, the hilarious photo I'd submitted of Thor, my giant teddy bear of a cat, asleep with his face in his food bowl, had been a spur-of-the-moment thing.
I know what you're thinking. Palm trees, sand beneath your feet, an ice-cold cocktail in your hand as you watch wave after wave roll in along the tropical shore. I know this because it's what I was thinking.
Instead, I get a dead surfing instructor, face down in the sand.
Copyright © 2021 by Jane Hinchey.
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All rights reserved.
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Chapter One
When your talking cat and his bestie raccoon win a funny cat photo competition, you’re obliged to take said cat—and raccoon—with you on the vacation prize. A week’s holiday at a pet-friendly resort in Wild Haven Lagoon. Which is how I found myself to be standing in a pool of sweat on the island's dock with a cat-carrying backpack strapped to my shoulders and the sexiest man on earth by my side.
This was the first vacation (outside of Christmas at the lake house) Captain Cowboy Hot Pants—or, as he likes to be called, Detective Kade Galloway—and I had taken together, and I won’t lie, I was beyond excited. Sandy beaches, tropical cocktails, one obligatory photoshoot for our prize sponsors, and seven glorious days in paradise.
“Are we there yet?” Thor’s adorable British accent reached my ears, which wasn’t surprising given he was suspended on my back and had been complaining long and loud the entire ferry ride over. Bandit, our raccoon, was sound asleep in her own carrier on Galloway’s back. She’d found the motion of the ferry soothing. Thor had found it less than ideal. The island of Emilienne did have a small airport but didn’t accept commercial flights, so we’d had to travel by sea.
“We’re on dry land,” I assured the cat. “Not long now.”
Galloway entwined his fingers with mine and grinned. “Place looks great.”
Emilienne was a tropical wonderland, a proverbial tourist mecca. The ferry had been packed with visitors much like us, excited to soon be doing nothing more strenuous than lounging by the pool—or ocean—being waited on hand and foot.
“Who did you say was meeting us?”
I pulled the worn piece of paper that had been folded and unfolded multiple times from the pocket of my denim shorts and scanned the print. “Nicole Gibson. She said to make our way to the information billboard at the end of the wharf. She’ll meet us there.” We were getting VIP treatment. A week's stay at Wild Haven Lagoon. Our own villa on the beach, our own guide to greet us and deliver us to our accommodations.
“Let’s go.” With an infectious smile, Galloway grabbed the handle of our wheely suitcase, and we trundled our way along the wharf, the breeze in our hair, the sun beating down. I’d lost my hat on the ferry. The wind had whipped it from my head and over the side before I could so much as blink. Thankfully, I wore a generous coating of sunscreen to mitigate the sun's rays.
“You must be Audrey and Kade.” A woman rushed up to us, two floral leis in her hands. She dropped the real flower necklaces over our heads. “I’m Nicole Gibson. You can call me Nik, and welcome to Wild Haven Lagoon. Well, we’re not at the Lagoon yet, of course, but just a small cart ride, and you’ll be on the doorstep of your own private villa. Where’s Thor and Bandit?”
I pegged her to be early forties, though it was hard to tell with her sun-damaged skin. Her hair was blonde, eyes brown with deep laugh lines radiating from the corners, and her bright pink polo shirt bore the Wild Haven Lagoon Resort logo.
“Thor’s here.” I jerked a thumb toward my backpack. Thor dutifully meowed. “And Bandit is asleep.” I nodded toward Galloway’s backpack.
Nik moved behind me and cooed at Thor through the carrier then herded us toward a blue golf cart. “Let’s get you out of this hot sun, hmm?”
Galloway sat next to Nik on the front seat, Bandit on his lap, while Thor and I sat on the rear-facing seat, watching as the wharf disappeared from view. Nik was right. In a matter of minutes, we’d wound our way around the island to a long stretch of beach dotted with huts. She pulled in next to one.
“Home sweet home.” She beamed, jumped down and waited for us, and then led the way to our villa. I cast a glance at Galloway, who shrugged. The villa was gorgeous but small. More a hut. But it was literally on the beach, and it was beautifully decorated. A massive bed dominated, with a kitchenette off to the side, bathroom at the back. A ceiling fan with rattan blades spun overhead, distributing a fresh breeze. We could lie in bed and watch the ocean. And blessing of all blessings, there was a coffee machine!
“All these villas belong to the resort, Nik?” Galloway asked, wheeling the suitcase to the end of the bed.
“Correct. There are fifteen in total. Then there’s the resort itself, which can accommodate another hundred guests, hotel-style.” She stepped out onto the deck and pointed to the right where a huge hotel loomed at the base of a lush, green mountain. “You have full use of all the amenities at the resort, but just a reminder, no pets up at the resort. They’re to stay in your villa.”
Setting Thor’s carrier on the floor, I opened it, and a gray head with orange eyes popped out.
“Don’t wander off, okay?” I told him.
“I set their supplies up in the bathroom,” Nik said, leaning down to scratch behind Thor’s ears. “Just be mindful of the wildlife. Pets are allowed, but not if they… you know.” She mimed dragging a knife across her throat.
“He knows not to hunt,” I assured her. Thor much preferred his food processed and provided in a bowl. The only hunting he did was of a particular red dot. As for Bandit, she had been known to dumpster dive on occasion, but I’d promised them both extra treats if they behaved themselves on this trip.
“I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy your stay. If there’s anything I can help you with, please don’t hesitate to give me a call. There’s an information brochure on the dresser.” She handed over the keys and then disappeared, the electric golf buggy making no sound as she drove away.
Galloway let Bandit out of her carrier then came up behind me and slid his arms around my waist, resting his chin on top of my head. “How perfect is this, hmm?”
“Paradise,” I agreed, snuggling into him. “What shall we do first? Swim? Cocktails? Nap?”
“I vote snacks,” Thor said, winding his way around my ankles and eyeing the ocean with a certain degree of distrust.
“I like snacks,” Bandit echoed.
“Let’s give these two snacks then go exploring,” I said. “I need a new hat anyway.”
Chapter Two
Why I thought surfing lessons were a good idea, I’ll never know. I blame it on the heady excitement of a tropical vacation and one too many cocktails, so when the resort instructor Rory Carr cornered me and insisted the first lesson was free, I’d caved. Rory was one of those good-looking sun-bronzed gods who laid the charm on thick and fast. The compliments fell from perfectly sculpted lips as he flirted outrageously with every female who crossed his path, myself included.
Galloway had tolerated the man’s over-the-top personality good-naturedly and declined the invitation for a surfing lesson. It turned out Galloway was a qualified scuba diver. We’d both agreed it’d probably be safer—for everyone—if I stayed above the water. And that’s how I came to be standing on the beach after
breakfast, ready for my surfing lesson while Galloway was off on his first dive tour.
Despite Rory’s penchant for flirting, he was an excellent instructor. I’d been worried he’d be a little handsy, but he was the perfect gentleman, keeping his distance and demonstrating on his own board how to paddle, how to prepare to stand, how to actually stand. We practiced on the sand before heading out into the surf, wading through the shallow water then paddling our boards over the reef that separated the surf from the calmer waters of the lagoon itself.
I was pleased and, well, a little smug when I stood up on my first try and rode the wave all the way to the distant shore. Rory caught the wave with me and cheered me the entire way, telling me I was a natural. I preened at the praise.
Maybe it would have been better if I’d fallen off. Maybe it would have been better if I hadn’t been so full of myself. Maybe then I would have remembered that I’m clumsy and uncoordinated, and riding a surfboard significantly bigger than me wasn’t something to be taken lightly. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been hit in the face with my own surfboard.
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What happened is still a bit of a blur. I remember seeing the wave approaching. I remember Rory shouting something, but I couldn’t hear him over the roar of the surf. I remember realizing, a little too late, that this wave was bigger than the others. Stronger. Faster. I remember turning my head to look at Rory for help. What do I do? I remember feeling a sense of panic. I remember thinking I’d simply try and get off my board rather than attempt to ride the giant wave. The wave had crashed over me. I’d slipped sideways, tumbling into the ocean. And that’s when my surfboard hit me in the face.