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Beatrice quickly got out of bed, pulling her ruby-red robe around her and stuffing her feet into a nearby pair of slippers. But by the time she’d hurried from her bedroom, Noo-noo’s growl turned into more of a surprised woof of recognition as the little dog stared through the back door from the living room into the backyard.
Beatrice followed her gaze and saw a particularly wild-looking Miss Sissy. The old woman was in the azalea bushes, small sticks and flowers sticking out of her hair. Her ancient floral dress was smeared with mud and she wore a scowl on her face. Had Miss Sissy finally lost what remained of her mind?
Beatrice quickly opened the back door. “Miss Sissy?” she asked in a cautious tone. “Why don’t you come inside and sit for a few minutes?”
Miss Sissy stared blankly at her.
Beatrice continued, “I was just about to make some breakfast. How does eggs and bacon and hash browns sound?” She knew the old woman, despite her size, was a voracious eater. In fact, she could likely wipe out the remaining inventory of her kitchen pantry, given the chance.
Miss Sissy only blinked.
“I can throw in some toast and fruit, too,” said Beatrice lightly.
The old woman’s face crumpled, then she teared up and started crying in earnest.
Beatrice stood stock still, completely unaccustomed to an emotional Miss Sissy. Oh, she could be emotional, but the emotion was ordinarily limited to anger. She rushed out and carefully walked the old woman out of the middle of the azalea bushes, getting quite a few sticks and flowers on her red robe in the process.
“It’s all right,” said Beatrice. “Let’s go inside. Everything will work itself out.”
Miss Sissy obediently allowed herself to be led indoors. Noo-noo sniffed her in commiseration and the old woman started howling again, stooping over to hug the startled corgi, which looked at Beatrice with big eyes.
Beatrice wasn’t sure what had happened because once Miss Sissy got inside, she clung to Noo-noo and wouldn’t talk. Beatrice handed her a box of tissues and walked into the kitchen to deliver the meal she’d promised and to give Miss Sissy an opportunity to calm down and collect herself. Beatrice was already wondering if she should call Posy for help. Posy, her friend who owned the Patchwork Cottage quilt shop, always had a good way with Miss Sissy.
She’d almost finished scrambling the eggs and frying the bacon when a subdued Miss Sissy croaked, “Wyatt.”
“Wyatt?” asked Beatrice.
“Call him,” said Miss Sissy.
Beatrice sighed. She figured she better get used to this. Wyatt being Wyatt, had kindly set up a great rapport with the old woman. She quickly put together a plate of food and set it down in front of Miss Sissy before picking up the phone.
Beatrice walked into the kitchen again. “Wyatt? Do you have some time for a favor?”
“Of course I do,” said Wyatt. “Is anything wrong?”
“Something seems to be wrong, but I’m not finding out what. Miss Sissy is here,” said Beatrice.
Wyatt’s voice was concerned, “Is she all right?”
“Definitely not. She’s very agitated.”
Wyatt gave a small chuckle. “Well, that’s pretty standard, isn’t it? Miss Sissy is always out of sorts.”
Beatrice peered around the kitchen wall. “Yes. But I found her in my azalea bushes out back. And I gave her a huge plate of food and she hasn’t even touched it. Not even the bacon.”
“Coming right over,” said Wyatt quickly before hanging up.
A few minutes later, Wyatt joined them. Beatrice made him a plate of food, too, since she’d made far too much breakfast, thinking that Miss Sissy would be behaving normally and eat several, heaping helpings.
When Miss Sissy saw Wyatt, she burst into tears again. Wyatt gathered her into his arms for a hug before sitting back to study her, holding her hands. “Now, Miss Sissy, please tell us what’s happened so that Beatrice and I can start helping you.”
The old woman took a deep breath. “Maisie,” she said. “She’s gone!”
Ordinarily, news of a missing cat in this situation would make Beatrice relax a little. After all, no one was seriously ill, there was no terrible medical diagnosis to face. Only a missing housecat. But Beatrice knew that Maisie was family to Miss Sissy. Maisie, a laid-back white cat, was a shared responsibility between Miss Sissy and Posy, who let her stay in the shop during the day. And Miss Sissy didn’t really need anything to make her even more unstable.
Wyatt’s face reflected Beatrice’s concern. “Maisie is missing? For how long?”
Miss Sissy looked thoughtful. The details associated with the passing of time weren’t exactly her forte.
Beatrice asked, “Was she gone last night? Or did you notice she was gone this morning?”
“Yesterday. Late afternoon,” said the old woman, looking anxious.
Wyatt asked, “Was she at your house, then? Not at the store?”
Miss Sissy gave him a scornful look. “Maisie would never run from Posy’s shop!”
“Of course not,” said Wyatt quickly. “She was at your house and she slipped out the door?”
“Why didn’t you come over to ask for help then?” asked Beatrice, feeling a bit exasperated. Finding the cat was going to be more difficult as time went on. And she was starting to feel as if her life was getting taken over by problem animals: first the neighbor’s barking dog, and now the missing Maisie.
“I did come over!” snapped Miss Sissy, glaring at her in accusation. “You were gone!”
So it must have been when she’d taken Noo-noo for a walk or when she and Wyatt had already left for the dinner party.
“Savannah helped look,” said Miss Sissy. “Before she had to go.”
Savannah was another friend and fellow quilter who was a huge animal-lover, herself. Beatrice didn’t have any trouble believing that Savannah was scouring the area to find the missing cat.
Wyatt said gently, “We’re going to help look, too. But first, why don’t you have something to eat? You didn’t look for her all night, did you?”
Miss Sissy pressed her lips together stubbornly, refusing to grace his question with an answer.
Beatrice sighed, visions of Miss Sissy crawling through hedges and woods all night dancing through her head.
Miss Sissy finally, reluctantly, consented to eat something and Beatrice and Wyatt managed to eat, too. They first canvassed the nearby woods and yards, before hopping in Wyatt’s car to drive slowly around. Then they parked his car in a different spot to search there. They spent a couple of hours calling for Maisie. But Maisie seemed as though she didn’t want to be found.
Beatrice glanced at her watch as they stood in the middle of the woods. She had things to do—Meadow was probably trying to reach her and Piper was likely trying to get in touch, too. Beatrice had forgotten to grab her phone before she left. And she was sure that Wyatt had things to do, too. He was just too kind to stop hunting for Maisie, knowing Miss Sissy would probably keep looking all day long.
“Okay, Miss Sissy,” said Beatrice firmly, “We didn’t immediately find Maisie. This doesn’t mean that Maisie isn’t going to be found.”
“Maybe she’s out hunting chipmunks,” offered Wyatt.
Miss Sissy gave him a scornful look as if Maisie was way too intelligent to hunt small striped, rodents.
“She’s probably just having an adventure. And you know cats can come back home even weeks later. Remember that old story, The Incredible Journey?” asked Beatrice.
This comparison didn’t appear to ease Miss Sissy’s mind.
“But Wyatt and I, unfortunately, have some things we need to do today. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to go back home and make up flyers with Maisie’s picture on them. Wyatt can put a couple up at the church.” She glanced at Wyatt to make sure this secular flyer was all right to post on the church bulletin board and he nodded. “Then I’ll put some all around downtown.”
Miss Sissy looked down at the grass and leaves below her feet.
Wyatt reached out and held her hand. “It’s Maisie, Miss Sissy. Everyone knows who she is. Think about that. She’s famous in Dappled Hills.”
This made Miss Sissy brighten a little. “What picture?” she said to Beatrice.
“You mean what picture of Maisie? I’m sure I have a few of them from the shop on my phone.” Beatrice reached for her pocket and patted it. “I forgot. I left my phone at home. But I know I have some pictures of her.”
This didn’t seem to satisfy the old woman.
“And if I find out the pictures aren’t any good, I’ll call Posy. She can email some pictures to me from the shop,” said Beatrice. “And I’m going to be out and about in town today and will be sure to mention Maisy to everyone I know.”
Miss Sissy considered this and then slowly nodded.
“Okay,” said Wyatt with relief in his voice. “This sounds like a good plan.”
“Then let’s get back in the car and head back,” said Beatrice firmly.
Wyatt dropped off Miss Sissy and then pulled into Beatrice’s driveway. He said, “Uh oh. Looks like the cavalry came.”
It certainly had. A very agitated Meadow stood at Beatrice’s door, pounding and calling. Noo-noo was in the front window, talking back to Meadow with short, happy barks. Meadow swung around at the sound of the car engine and put her hands on her hips. Her long hair was slung loosely into a ponytail and she wore a mismatched top and skirt as if she’d just pulled something on to run over.
“She doesn’t look happy,” observed Wyatt wryly.
Beatrice sighed. “I didn’t have my phone on me and she’s probably been trying to call or text for two hours. I did tell her she could let me know what she found out from Ramsay.”
A second later, Piper’s car pulled quickly into Beatrice’s driveway, behind Beatrice’s.
“For heaven’s sake,” muttered Beatrice. “Meadow must have called Piper and gotten her all worked up, too. Can’t a body leave the house for a little while without a phone these days?”
“If they’d been really worried, I’m sure they’d have given me a call. But good luck,” said Wyatt with a smile as Beatrice climbed reluctantly out of the car.
Meadow said indignantly as Beatrice approached her, “I was worried about you! You didn’t answer my calls. I thought that maybe you’d fallen and broken a hip or something. I even called Piper!”
“So I see,” said Beatrice with a sigh, pulling out her key to unlock her front door. “I’m hoping I’m years away from that possibility. Here, why don’t you go on inside and I’ll be there in a minute. Piper is probably on her way over to the school to help set up her classroom for the next year. Let me talk to her for a second.”
Piper was indeed on her way to the school, but hopped out of the car to give her mother a hug. “Meadow told me what happened last night. How awful!”
“It was, for sure. Poor Caspian. It was quite a shock, having something like that happen at a dinner party,” said Beatrice. And it was. She thought again about the moment she’d found out that he was dead—and shivered. “But we were fine ... no worries, Piper.”
“Are you sure? I can go in later to work, if you’d like to talk it over. You’ve got so much going on right now, trying to get ready for the wedding that I hate that you had any more stress,” said Piper, looking concerned.
“Oh, I think Meadow plans to talk it over, never you fear,” said Beatrice dryly. “And you’ve got your own wedding to stew over. Don’t worry about me—I’m just fine.”
“All right then.” Piper gave Beatrice another quick hug. “I’ll check in with you later, okay?” And she drove away.
Meadow, who had helped herself to a cup of likely stale coffee, was still fussing when Beatrice walked inside. “Honestly, Beatrice, anything could have happened to you. I’ll admit that a health-related thing did pop into my mind first, but it could have been anything. Maybe you’d had a visit from our local killer. Since there is one on the loose,” said Meadow.
Beatrice looked quickly over at Meadow. “There is? Ramsay confirmed it?”
Beatrice stooped to rub Noo-noo. She rolled over and grinned at Beatrice as she rubbed her tummy.
Meadow plopped down on the sofa, holding her coffee cup, and said, “He sure did. Ramsay said that Caspian was drugged and then smothered. The poor man.”
Beatrice sat down in an overstuffed armchair. “Drugged and smothered. I guess someone wanted to make sure he didn’t struggle or fight back. He was a big man, despite his age. I don’t think I realized how big he was until I really saw him up close. It would have been easy enough to drug him since he wasn’t exactly fixing his own drinks. And he did set his drink down some, too, which would give plenty of opportunity to doctor it.”
Meadow waved her hands around animatedly. “What I can’t believe is that someone would do something like that at a party. With all of us there! With the chief of police there, for heaven’s sake!”
Beatrice said in a thoughtful voice, “It would have to be someone pretty brazen. Or maybe not. After all, it wasn’t as if we were looking for someone to be murdered. We weren’t trying to observe and take note of every little thing. It was a party.”
“Not much of one,” muttered Meadow.
“At any rate, no one was expecting a murder to take place,” said Beatrice. She frowned. “I’m trying to remember how Caspian appeared when he said he was going to lie down before dinner. Did he seem drugged then?”
“He seemed curt and dismissive like he did the rest of the evening,” said Meadow tartly.
“And still alert,” said Beatrice. “Maybe it was still taking effect. What kind of drug was it ... did Ramsay say?”
“Run of the mill sleeping pills, apparently. Caspian had an automatically filled prescription and apparently rarely used the pills.” Meadow sighed. “Someone must have taken a bunch of them and crushed them up.”
Beatrice said with a frown, “Wouldn’t that have been awfully bitter? I wouldn’t think he’d have drunk anything that tasted bad.”
“Caspian was drinking Manhattans, and they must have masked the taste,” said Meadow with a shrug. “They have Angostura bitters in them.”
Beatrice said, “Although, now that I think about it, I don’t think he drank very much of his last drink. Maybe it didn’t taste as good as the others.”
“I’m not sure. But I’m starting to feel sorry for the old coot. He wasn’t the friendliest guy, but he didn’t deserve to be killed by his own family that way!” said Meadow.
“We’re sure it was his family, right?” asked Beatrice. “What did Ramsay say about that?”
“Well, it wasn’t a robbery. Unless someone had a grudge against Caspian, I can’t imagine why a non-family member would murder Caspian.” Meadow stopped. “You don’t suppose someone like Wynona could have done something like this, do you?”
Noo-noo looked up at Beatrice and she gently lifted the corgi into her lap. Absently petting her, she said, “Wynona? I thought you were saying that she had a grudge against Hawkins, not Caspian.”
“But Caspian was the source of all the trouble. He was the one who forbade Hawkins to marry Wynona,” said Meadow.
“You’re still making the whole thing sound like a performance of Romeo and Juliet,” said Beatrice.
“It was sort of like that,” said Meadow. She made a face. “But I don’t like thinking of Wynona being responsible. Besides, how would she have gotten in?”
Beatrice said wryly, “That house was hardly a fortress. I saw Barkis, the groundskeeper, inside while we were having our tour. I think anyone could have slipped in and no one would notice. The front door wasn’t even locked as guests were arriving.”
“You don’t think Barkis would have done it?” asked Meadow.
Beatrice shook her head. “Why on earth would he want to? He’d have nothing to gain and everything to lose. What happens if Hawkins or Malcolm decides to fire him? No, he had more job security with Caspian around.”
Meadow nodded, taking it all in. Then she said, “All right, tell me what was going on this morning that you were gone so early. And why you didn’t answer your phone!”
Beatrice said, “I was awakened this morning by Noo-noo growling at me. I expected to see some sort of prowler and instead I saw Miss Sissy hanging out in my azalea bushes.”
“What on earth was she doing in there?”
Beatrice said, “Looking for Maisie.”
Meadow gasped and put her hands in front of her mouth. “Oh no. Maisie is missing? Was Miss Sissy totally devastated over it?”
“She was very upset, yes. She even cried, which really startled me. But Meadow, I’m sure Maisie will be fine. We’ll put up some flyers and tell some folks about it and before you know it, half of Dappled Hills will be out looking for the cat,” said Beatrice.
Meadow brightened. “That’s exactly what we need to do. We’ll make some flyers and put them out. Besides, that will also give us a chance to snoop around a little. We’ve got to give Ramsay a helping hand, you know. I think he relies on us now.”
Beatrice laughed. “I don’t know about that. But I did want to poke around and see what we can find out. What happened last night has really sort of made me mad. It was supposed to be a night of celebration and instead there was a tragedy. I want to get to the bottom of it all. Besides, Wyatt was actually fond of Caspian.”
“That’s because he likes everybody, even crusty old men. But I’m with you on this—there’s something very sad about the whole thing. And we have a murderer in Dappled Hills! That cannot be allowed. All right, first things first. Where are your pictures of Maisie the cat?” demanded Meadow.
Beatrice glanced around her. “Good question. They’re on my phone, which I still haven’t found.” She thought for a moment. “But since I was awakened by a growling Noo-noo, I’m going to guess that it’s still in my bedroom. I didn’t exactly have a normal start to my day.”
Beatrice found the phone on her bedside table, still on the charger, and thumbed through the pictures in her gallery. She dubiously handed the phone over to Meadow, who squinted at it.
“This is Maisie? This is a horrible picture of Maisie. What else have you got on here?” asked Meadow.
Apparently, at least according to Meadow, there were no good pictures of the cat to be found on Beatrice’s device.
Meadow said, “Let’s go to the Patchwork Cottage. Posy is bound to have some cute pictures of Maisie that will actually make people want to find her. And besides, I have an errand to run over there. But first we should head over to the Nelms home. After all, they suffered a terrible tragedy last night. We should bring food.”
Beatrice said wryly, “And I’m guessing that you’ve already made plans to prepare something.”
“I had a hard time sleeping after Ramsay came in, so I headed for the kitchen. Fried chicken, cornbread, mashed potatoes, and coleslaw!” Meadow said.
Beatrice felt her mouth water and realized that she must have burned off the bits of breakfast that she’d had with Miss Sissy. “Sounds great.”
“I think it’s the perfect meal for the grieving family,” said Meadow. “And it smells so good that they should let us right in the door.” She studied Beatrice. “You look hungry. Have you eaten today or did the Miss Sissy mess take over your mealtime?”
“I did eat a little, but I either didn’t eat enough, or I burned it all off by searching through the woods looking for Maisie,” admitted Beatrice.
“Then let’s plan on eating lunch downtown after we go by the Nelms house and the Patchwork Cottage. I think the only way I’ll be able to see you at all with all the wedding festivities is if I steal you away for lunch,” said Meadow.
Beatrice fed Noo-noo and let her out, and then she and Meadow got into Meadow’s van. They stopped by Meadow’s house to pick up the food, which immediately made Beatrice’s stomach growl. Meadow could be annoying sometimes, but she was a fantastic cook.