A Mew to a Kill (21 page)

“Maybe you need to look beyond your circle of suspects. It’s getting you nowhere,” Paisley pointed out.

Maybe she was right … or maybe she just didn’t want to admit to herself that it could have been Kenny.

“Does Kenny drive a black truck?” I persisted.

“A truck? No, he doesn’t even have a car, but sometimes he uses his friend’s car. Its a Toyota, though, not a truck.”

That didn’t mean he couldn’t have borrowed it from someone else.

“It wasn’t Kenny, I tell you. He’s a do-gooder, not a killer.” Paisley’s voice rose in anger.

“Now, now. Don’t argue. I’m sure Willa will find the real killer,” Franklin, who had been listening quietly along with Robert, said.

“Yes, doing good is not always … err … good,” Robert added, then he adopted the pose he used when quoting himself. “We saw the risk we took in doing good, but dared not spare to do the best we could.”

“And you must do the best you can, Willa.” Franklin put his arm around Paisley and he and Robert ushered her away from me.
 

I watched as the three ghosts slowly did their vanishing act, becoming increasingly opaque as they retreated into the distance. Just when they had almost disappeared into thin air, Paisley looked back at me over her shoulder. “Don’t forget, Willa … look further than the close circle … and think about trying some blue eye shadow. It will highlight the color of your eyes.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

After the ghosts disappeared, I wanted to get over to Paisley’s store right away and look for the cat. Not to mention that having a key would allow me to look around inside for other clues. But mostly I was worried about the cat.

I was just about to close up when customers came in. Not wanting to give up a sale, I waited around for them to browse. Unfortunately—or fortunately depending on how you looked at it—more customers came in and before I knew it, two hours had passed. It wasn’t a total loss, though. I sold a couple of Nancy Drew mysteries, some modern thrillers, and an antique anatomy book, complete with over one hundred plates of the human body inside for a tidy sum.
 

Just as I was about to head out for the second time, Bing, Josiah, Hattie and Cordelia burst through the door with a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin for me.
 

Just looking at the muffin made my mouth water—that hard-boiled egg I’d had earlier wasn’t enough to feed a duck. I was starving and I couldn’t refuse their hospitality, now could I?
 

I sat down on the purple sofa, glad to have a chance to rest my aching shoulder and dug in to the muffin. The tart blueberries and giant granules of sugar worked better than any pain medication to make me forget my aches and pains.

“We’re so glad you weren’t badly hurt.” Cordelia studied me with sharp blue eyes.
 

“You sure you should be at work today?” Bing asked.

“That’s a nasty knock on your forehead,” Hattie added.

I sprinkled some muffin crumbs into my mouth. “I feel fine. The doctor said there was nothing wrong, just a few bruises.” I reached up to massage my shoulder. “My shoulder hurts like heck, but my head feels fine. I guess I wasn’t hit bad enough to do any real damage.”

“You do have a hard head.” Bing’s blue eyes twinkled with amusement.

“That’s what Gus said.”
 

“It was quite a shock for us to find out George wasn’t the killer.” Hattie played with the string from her tea bag.

“Me, too, but Gus and Striker said he had an airtight alibi.”

Josiah nodded. “Yep. He was right in the town hall having an argument.”

“Of course, he did set her shop on fire and that’s going to ruin him. I was surprised he would confess to that, but I guess he felt like that was getting off easy compared to being convicted of murder,” Cordelia said.

Bing turned to me. “So what happened? We heard you were run down in the street.”

I glanced out the window at the spot where I’d been hit. Was that a cat slinking across the alley? I craned my neck. Nope, just some leaves blowing in the wind. I explained how I’d seen someone in the photography shop and had gone over to stop them from stealing anything. “Of course, that was when I still thought George was the killer and he was in jail. I guess whoever tried to run me down was the real killer.”

Cordelia put her cup down on the coffee table. “Wait. Why would the killer wait all this time to go into Paisley’s shop?”

I frowned. That was a good question. “Maybe they just realized they left evidence inside?”

“Are you sure it was the killer? Maybe it was someone else,” Hattie pointed out.

“Maybe, but why would someone else be there?”

“How did they get inside?” Josiah asked.

“Beats me.” I made a mental note to check the back. The intruder must have either pried off the boards … or they had a key. I wondered if Kenny knew that Paisley kept a key in the planter.
 

“And you didn’t see who struck you or recognize the car?” Hattie asked.

I shook my head. “I didn’t see who was driving, but was a black truck. I don’t know anyone who has one. Do any of you?”

They contemplated this in silence, one by one shaking their heads. No one could come up with anyone who even had a truck, much less someone that had a black truck
and
would want to kill Paisley.

Bing sipped his coffee thoughtfully. “So, who do you think the real killer is?”

I puffed out a breath and sank back into the couch. “Well, my main suspect is Paisley’s brother, Kenny.”

Cordelia’s brows pinched together. “Why would Kenny kill his own sister?”
 

“What motive would he have? Did they not get along?” Hattie added.

I couldn’t tell them that Paisley had said they did get along. “I don’t know. Maybe she got him mad or something or he might have gotten into trouble and needed money. I heard that she had some expensive cameras at her house. I guess he would probably inherit them.”

Josiah made a face. “You think he killed her for cameras? How much money can cameras be worth? A couple of thousand? That hardly seems worth it for murder, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, you might be grasping. Who else do you have on your suspect list?” Bing asked.

“The only other person is Maisie Beardsley.” I hated to think it, never mind say it out loud, but I had to admit there was a certain amount of evidence pointing toward her, including the ‘B’ charm I’d given to Gus in the hospital.

Cordelia gasped. “Surely you don’t suspect Maisie? Why, she’s an old woman.”

“And an upstanding member of the community,” Hattie added.

“Would she even have the strength to clonk Paisley on the back of the head hard enough to kill her?” Josiah asked. “My source at the police station said Paisley died from a blow to the head.”

Bing frowned. “And what motive would she have?”

They were right. It was ridiculous to think that Maisie had committed this crime. But what motive did Kenny have? Paisley had been helping him, so why would he want to kill her?
 

Was there a third person involved that I hadn’t considered?

I didn’t have much time to think about it, because the door opened and Brenda Parrish rushed in.

“Willa! Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay! I heard about your accident and was surprised to see the store open. You weren’t hurt too badly, then?”

My heart warmed. I only knew Brenda from being a judge on the art committee with her. It was nice of her to come in and ask about my welfare. That’s what I liked about small towns. Everyone cared about everyone else. Well, when they weren’t killing them or setting fire to their businesses.
 

“Not too badly, thanks for asking.”

“I heard you were run down deliberately? Did you see who did it? Do the police have any leads?” A deep crease formed in between her brows as her eyes looked me over, apparently searching for injuries.

I shook my head. “I didn’t see the driver. Just that it was a black truck. Your guess is as good as mine as to who it could be.”

Brenda’s eyes widened. “I would have no idea who it would be. Do you think it has something to do with what happened at the photography shop?” She glanced across the street at Paisley’s shop.

“Maybe.” I followed her glance. Even though it was nice to have everyone concerned about me, I wished they would leave. I wanted to get into Paisley’s shop and look for the cat that might be injured, not to mention check out the shop for clues to the killer.

But, it looked like I wasn’t going to be able to do that any time soon because a familiar figure was stomping down the street toward my store. Gus.

Gus whipped open the door and stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips, her amber eyes piercing me with a glare. “Just what are you doing in here? You should be at home resting.”

I waved my hand dismissively. “I feel fine. I’ve got work to do. The bills don’t pay themselves, you know.”
 

Gus glanced over her shoulder at Paisley’s store. “Are you sure that’s what it is? Work? You sure you’re not here to try to do some investigating?”

I raised my brows. “Investigating?”
 

She wagged her finger at me. “I’m telling you, Willa, you should leave things to the police. We know what we’re doing. We don’t need an amateur getting in the way.”

I bristled at the word ‘amateur’. I had, after all, been a crime journalist in my past career. If Gus wanted to trade barbs, then it was game on. “Well, amateur investigating would be a nice hobby. Can you think of any other hobbies that might be interesting?” I fixed Gus with my most innocent look.

The look of alarm on her face made the corners of my lips twitch in a semi-smile. My discovery of her piano playing hobby was already paying off.

Gus sighed. “I’m just telling you for your own good. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You should listen to Gus,” Josiah said. “We don’t want anything happening to you.”

Cordelia nodded. “I’m sure the police are more than capable of figuring out who was downtown at the time of Paisley’s death.”
 

“That’s right. I hear it happened around nine thirty at night and there can’t be too many people who would be downtown at that time.” Hattie chuckled. “This town rolls up the sidewalks at seven.”

Brenda laughed. “It sure does, which is why the people in Paisley’s shop stood out so distinctly that night.”

“What night?” we all asked.

Brenda looked flummoxed. “Tuesday.”

Gus zeroed in on her like a hawk zeroing in on a baby rabbit. “Tuesday? The night Paisley died? You saw someone in there that night around nine?”

“Was Tuesday the night Paisley died? I didn’t realize… “ Brenda’s voice trailed off and she screwed up her face, then she continued on. “Yes, I’m sure it was Tuesday that I saw them. I remember because I had to pick up a prescription at Lake’s pharmacy and I know the time was nine fifteen because I’d just gotten out of choir practice and had to rush over to get the prescription before they closed at nine thirty. You can ask Sadie at the pharmacy. She’s the one who pointed it out to me, because it was unusual for any of the shops to be open at that time.”

I could see the wheels turning in Gus’s head as she made a mental note to ask Sadie.

“So, you and Sadie saw Paisley with someone in her shop?”

Brenda nodded.

Gus flapped her arms in exasperation. “Well, who was it?”

“Maisie Beardsley, and she and Paisley were arguing something fierce.”
 

Chapter Twenty-Three

I was finally alone in the shop and still reeling from Brenda’s admission of seeing Maisie at Paisley’s the night she died. I had to admit, things were looking pretty bad for the senior artist.
 

But, I still refused to believe she was the killer. For one thing, she didn’t have a strong enough motive. Sure, she needed money according to Josiah, but even if she thought Paisley might ruin her chances of winning the art show because of her relationship with George, that was still a weak reason to commit murder.

But that wasn’t the biggest reason I didn’t believe she’d done it. Paisley was killed by a blow to the head and I was pretty sure Paisley could take Maisie in a fight. So, the only way Maisie could have hit her was if she took her by surprise and Brenda had seen them arguing, so it’s not like Maisie snuck up on her.
 

All the more reason to get over to the photography shop to see what I could see.

I looked out the window, glancing up and down the street. Things were quiet. It was a perfect time to close up shop and sneak out.

“
Meow!
” Pandora’s green eyes shifted between looking at me and at Paisley’s shop as if she knew what I was contemplating.

“I’ll only be a second. You keep an eye out, okay?”
 

“
Meoay.
”

Did she just nod? Maybe my head injury was worse than I had thought.
 

I slipped out the front door, locking it behind me, and scurried across Main Street to the flowerpot where Paisley had said she’d hidden her key. Glancing around to make sure no one saw what I was doing, I tilted the pot up on its side. I snatched the key out from underneath it and hurried over to Paisley’s front door.