“Snickerdoodle?” I offered, thumping my way into the kitchen, the mayor trailing behind me, sniffing her disapproval.
The kitchen felt smaller with Kerris Jones in it. Not only her size but her demeanor, as if she were standing in a slum and couldn’t stand for the filth to touch her. But if she expected me to be intimidated by her behavior, she’d have a long wait. I’d long since stopped caring about what anyone thought of me—let alone where I lived.
Flynn, whose stomach was bulging at the amount of cookie dough he’d consumed, sat and stared at the mayor, whose eyes had locked on him.
“Is that a… rat?”
“Yes. This is Flynn.” I folded my arms and waited. Didn’t have to wait long. Her face suffused with purple, her eyes bulged, and her mouth opened and closed, mimicking a goldfish until she finally found her words. “This is a health code violation! You cannot keep vermin inside. This is outrageous. I’m having this place condemned!” she screeched. Flynn and I both cringed, not at her words but the pitch of her voice. I was surprised the window didn’t crack.
She ranted on for a solid minute, something about calling the exterminator and the sheriff and that I should be ashamed of myself. I ignored her, busying myself with placing the snickerdoodles into a container.
“Well?” she finally demanded. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Firstly,” I smiled sweetly, “this is my home, and what I choose to do here is no one else’s business except my own. Secondly, Flynn is my pet. Just like people keep cats or dogs as pets, I have a rat. Perfectly legal. And thirdly, I repeat, this is my home, and you came here unannounced and uninvited to…what? Yell at me over my choice of pet? In which case, I bid you farewell, Mayor. Have a nice evening.”
If it were possible, her face suffused with even more color, and her mouth did the goldfish thing again.
“May I use your bathroom?” she finally said.
I don’t know what I’d been expecting her to say, but it certainly wasn’t that.
“What?” Surely, I’d misheard her?
“Sorry to bother you.” Her voice was ice cold, her eyes sharp. She’d regained control of her wayward emotions, and the ice queen was back. “I shall take my leave. But if I may use your bathroom beforehand, that would be much appreciated.”
“Sure. Top of the stairs.”
She stared at me hard, and I stared right back, unflinching. I didn’t know what Kerris Jones was doing here this evening or what she hoped to achieve by challenging me to a staring competition, but if she thought she would win, she thought wrong. I was a champion starer.
Eventually, she conceded defeat and spun on her heel without a word. The stairs creaked and groaned in protest as she thumped up them, rage in every step. I heard her try and close the bathroom door and couldn’t contain the grin when she realized the door was warped and would not stay closed.
“Well?” I whispered to Flynn, whose fur was actually standing on end. “What do you think that was all about?”
Flynn’s paws moved manically, slashing through the air, desperately trying to tell me something. The only problem was I didn’t speak sign language. Nor rat.
“What is it?” I hissed. “I don’t understand!” We both heard the toilet flush and the faucet run and knew she’d be back downstairs within a few short minutes.
“Look, I’ll get rid of her, okay?” I tried to reassure Flynn, running a gentle hand over his fur, which had finally settled, but as the thump, thump, thump of her feet on the stairs boomed through the house, it stood on end again.
I met Kerris at the bottom of the stairs. “Thanks for dropping by,” I said, arm outstretched to indicate the front door. “But I think it’s best if you leave.”
“Don’t you want to know why I stopped by?” she asked haughtily.
“Nope.” Obviously a lie. I was burning with curiosity, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of voicing it. “Drive safe now.” Opening the front door, I stood aside so she could leave. I was beginning to think she had no intention of leaving when she stayed rooted to the spot. Eventually, she crossed the room and stepped over the threshold.
“I came to present you a beyond generous offer on the house,” she said.
“This house?” Of course, I knew she meant this house. I was just having way too much fun messing with her.
“Yes,” she ground out. “This house.”
“As I told you earlier, I’m not selling. Not yet anyway. And if I do decide to sell, I’ll be contacting a realtor, no private offers.”
“You haven’t heard what I’m prepared to pay.” She leaned forward and whispered an obscene amount of money in my ear. I was shocked. She was prepared to pay at least three times more than what the house was worth.
She straightened, a smug look on her face, as if thinking that once she told me the offer, I’d be overcome with greed and accept.
“Generous,” I conceded, nodding. “But I’m afraid I must decline.”
“What?” Her screeching was about to start up again, I could tell, so I shut the door in her face. I was halfway to the kitchen when the knocking started. With irritation dancing across my skin, I flung open the door.
“Listen—” I began, only to pull up when it wasn’t Kerris Jones knocking on my door but one of the women who’d helped with the cleaning of the house. “Oh! Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
“Kerris just left.” The white-haired woman with the kind brown eyes smiled almost apologetically. “Sorry to bother you….”
“Please, come on in.” I held the door open wider, allowing her entry. “Denise, isn’t it?” I recalled seeing her cleaning at the police station and she’d been part of the cleaning party who’d descended on my place when I first arrived.
“Yes, Denise Hurt.” She smiled, seemingly pleased I’d remember her name.
Denise Hurt. So… another witch? Only I couldn’t very well come out and ask her, not when we were meant to be a secret. Doris knew what was what and who was who in this town. I’d have to ask her about Denise next time I spoke with her.
“Snickerdoodle, Denise?” I asked, leading the way to the kitchen. Flynn, who’d hidden behind a bag of flour, poked his head out, afraid it was Kerris back again.
“That would be lovely, thank you,” Denise said, taking one of the snickerdoodles and nibbling on it. Despite telling myself I wouldn’t eat any more cookies tonight, I picked one up and took a bite. Mmmm, so soft and chewy.
“What can I help you with, Denise?” I prompted. I wasn’t used to having visitors, and three in quick succession was not only a surprise but annoying. I was used to being alone. This revolving door of guests had my shoulders tense and my nerves on edge.
Denise cleared her throat. “This is probably going to sound a little odd,” she began. I almost laughed. Ever since arriving in Gravestone, things had been odd. What was one more?
“I’m working on the history of Gravestone, and before he passed, John said he had some books that I could borrow. Only…” She trailed off, fiddling with her snickerdoodle, crumbs dropping to the countertop where Flynn darted out and began snarfing them down as if his belly wasn’t distended enough. Denise didn’t appear to notice him.
“Only he died,” I supplied, taking another mouthful of cookie. “You wanna have a look around for the books?” I offered.
Denise looked at me hopefully. “Is that okay? You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. There’s the bookcase in the living room and another in the front bedroom upstairs. I’d offer to help, but you probably know better than me what you’re looking for, and I need to start cleaning up this mess.”
Denise reached out and grabbed my hand, clasping it between both of hers. “Thank you so much,” she gushed. “You have no idea what this means.”
Uncomfortable at her gratitude, I pulled away, feeling my face heat. “Sure, sure, not a problem. Anytime.” Which, of course, I didn’t mean since I didn’t relish having my privacy invaded.
Denise left for the living room with her half-demolished snickerdoodle, Flynn hot on her heels, no doubt hoping for more crumbs. I finished packing away the cookies, then washed the baking trays and mixing bowls before wiping down the counter tops. By the time I was done, Denise was upstairs, and Flynn had rejoined me in the kitchen, clearly deciding climbing the stairs was too much of an effort. I made myself a cup of coffee and sat on one of the kitchen chairs, sipping the piping hot brew while half-listening to Denise moving about, half-listening to the thunder and the sound of rain hitting the windows and roof.
My mind drifted as I pondered who had killed Seth and why. Which brought me around to thinking about my fake great uncle’s death. An apparent suicide, yet most folks believed it wasn’t, and with what Doris had told me about the missing ladder, I was inclined to agree with them. It niggled that I didn’t want to think Calder had shoddy investigative skills, that I was searching around for other reasons as to why the death had been ruled a suicide rather than a homicide like so many people thought.
Two deaths. Months apart. Were they related? One way to know for sure was to find out all I could about John’s death, which meant asking for Calder’s help. And no cop liked you poking around in a past case that had been closed, looking for holes in their investigation.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the rune. I could return this to Calder on the pretense of asking him if anything similar had been found when John died. Maybe it had, and no one had given it a moment’s thought. Like Doris had said, the police wouldn’t know what to make of it, and it would end up languishing in an evidence bag.
Pulling out my phone, I dialed the second saved number.
He answered on the third ring. “Calder.”
“Sorry to bother you. This is Holly Day—”
“Holly! Is everything okay?” he cut in before I’d finished speaking.
“Yes, I’m fine. Look.” I cleared my throat and injected as much innocence into my tone as I could muster. “Remember that black rock we found in the barn? With Seth’s body? Well, I just found it in my pocket! Honestly, I have no idea how it got there.”
“So, that’s where it got to. I thought Doris had pilfered it. I was going to visit her tomorrow.” His tone was friendly, not irate, which was a positive sign.
That’s when I realized how late it was getting. “Gosh, sorry, I didn’t realize the time. I’m all out of whack today. Anyway, I’ll let you go. I just wanted you to know that I have it. I can drop it into your office tomorrow if that helps?”
“Actually, I’m about to do my rounds, check on the town and how it’s faring in this storm. If you’re not heading to bed anytime soon, I’ll drop in and pick it up. I’m going to need to get your prints to exclude you from the investigation anyway.”
“My prints,” I hedged. It would not be good to have my prints in the system.
“Since you’ve handled the evidence,” he explained.
“Right. Of course.” Darn. Now I would need to hack into the Gravestone PD database and delete my prints. Harding would not be pleased.
“I’ll see you in an hour or so,” Calder said before hanging up.
Overhead, a floorboard creaked, and I raised my eyes to the ceiling. “I forgot Denise was still here,” I whispered to Flynn, wondering if she had overheard me talking to Calder about discovering Seth’s body.
Flynn headed for the stairs while I stood and waited at the bottom.
“Everything okay up there?” I yelled.
I could just make out a startled gasp, then Denise called back, “Yes. Sorry, I won’t be much longer.”
“Maybe I should help.” I put one foot on the bottom stair and was preparing to haul myself up when she appeared on the landing and smiled down at me, brandishing a book in her hand.
“No need, I found it!” She hustled down the stairs so fast she was a blur. She had the front door open and her umbrella ready before I was even halfway to the door. “Thanks so much. Sorry for the intrusion. See you later.” And she was gone. The door stood open, and I gazed out into the dark, wet night. Of Denise Hurt, there was no sign.