“Pssst!”
I froze, my grandmother’s car keys in hand. Had I just heard someone whispering? No, that had to be the wind in the bushes, right? I looked up and down the street, but it was empty. So now I was just imagining things.
Perfect.
“Psst! Over here!”
OK, I definitely hadn’t imagined that. The voice, small and feminine had come from behind me.
I spun around, frowning at the tall bushes—a hedge—trying to find the source of the voice. This had been a strange week. From the werewolf to the non-stolen recipe book and now this?
“Who’s there?” I asked, feeling like I’d lost it completely. “Hello?”
The hedge rustled and two skinny hands appeared, pressing the leaves apart. A face followed. “Hi.” It was Misty, the reclusive graphic designer who lived next door to the victim.
“Uh, hello,” I said.
Misty’s eyes darted from left-to-right as she scanned the road. “I didn’t want to be seen.”
“You don’t say.”
“Things have been scary around here the past few days. The police were here. The dead body. Then you came by, and now people in the street are acting mighty strange.”
This might’ve been a redundant question regarding that statement but… “Can you give me an example? How have people been acting different?”
“Norman,” she whispered, “has been having visitors over to stay for the night. A young woman. It’s not right.”
“Anything else?” It was obvious that the woman visiting Norman was none other than Kayla, a main suspect in the case.
“Remember how I told you that I saw a white Kia on the morning of Brenda’s… on the time that… you know the day that…?”
“She passed?”
“Yes, the day that she passed.” Misty wasn’t aware that a stray ant had started its long journey across the pale expanse of her forehead. “A white Kia. On that morning.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I think I know who it belongs to.”
“Who?” My vision tunneled on her. If she had the answer to this question, it might be my next big lead.
“That woman who moved into Brenda’s house. Her sister. Marie Tippett.”
“You’re sure about this?”
“Positive,” she whispered. “Absolutely sure. I mean, I saw her driving down the street in a white car. I saw it with my own two eyes, and I’ve been keeping a close eye on things since we talked.” The woman’s eyes were wild, so I’d have to trust they’d done their job.
“All right. Thank you for telling me this, Misty.”
She shushed me frantically. “I was never here,” she whispered. “We never talked.” And then she slowly retracted herself from the hedge with a great deal of susurration.
As encounters in Gossip went, this one was right on target. I was interested in the information she’d provided.
Marie Tippett had been obvious about pointing out how she’d arrived after her sister’s death. And how her sister had been a nuisance. She’d also been surprisingly calm about Brenda’s passing.
It was time to find out what she was hiding.
“I am entirely sure that she’s going to throw the competition. She must be up to something,” Gamma said, as we crouched in the same hedge I’d encountered Misty in earlier in the day. “Belle-Blue has no issue stepping on people’s heads to get what she wants.”
“You don’t think it’s so she can get more visibility for her cattery and guesthouse? I don’t like the woman either, but killing someone?”
Gamma pursed her lips but remained silent. She’d had a bee in her bonnet ever since she’d seen yet another article in the newspaper declaring that Jessie was a town hero for being a judge at the impending contest.
“Georgina, you don’t really believe that, do you?”
“We should focus on the mission,” Gamma murmured.
The night sky was inky black above us, the streetlamps on, and many a living room window in the street colored with the blue flashes from TVs. It was still early, but now was our chance to break into Brenda’s home.
Marie had left on foot a short while ago, her bag strung over her shoulder. We had no idea where she was going, and it didn’t matter.
“Move out on my mark,” Gamma said, her voice loud in my earpiece.
“Copy.”
She made the signal, and we darted across the road like shadows. Or like two women wearing all black including balaclavas this time.
I hit the scrambler once we were on Brenda’s property and we made for the garage this time instead of the back door. Gamma removed a small black remote from her pocket and placed it against the garage door, pressing buttons along its side. “One moment.”
“What are you—?”
She hit a button and the garage door opened by remote. I didn’t bother asking how she’d done it. My grandmother had a pill, remote, and gadget for every occasion. Our night vision contact lenses saved us the necessity for flashlights.
The garage interior was small, and a single car was parked within, surrounded by shelving that held loads of junk.
“No wonder Brenda’s house was so neat,” I murmured. “She was hoarding everything in here.”
“The car?”
I checked it out and my heart sank. It was white, just as Misty and Norman had described, but it wasn’t a Kia. It was a sedan, nowhere near the same shape as a hatchback. One witness’s testimony might’ve been a mistake, but two?
“I don’t think it’s the right car,” I muttered. “And we don’t know that she was here on the morning of the murder. It appears as if she only arrived after the fact.”
This was a bust. A waste of a mission and our resources.
“Let’s make a tactical retreat, Charlotte.” Gamma backed out of the garage doors. “In and out before anyone sees us is fine, but lingering here…”
“I know. Just give me a second.” I peered in through the windows of the car, hoping there’d be something. But no. The car was empty of interesting stuff. It was just a car. An old one by the looks of it.
“Charlotte.”
“Coming.”
We raced back across the road, and Gamma closed the garage door remotely. “What a waste of time,” I whispered. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Never apologize for finding a lack of evidence,” she replied. “It simply means we need to do more digging. I’ll do a background check on Marie Tippett. See what we can find. Now that we know the recipe book isn’t connected to Brenda’s death we can cast our net wider.”
Which I probably should’ve done from the start. But hey, I was a spy not a detective. I was working with the evidence I’d found.
And so far… man, that wasn’t much.