A Dead End (A Saints & Strangers Cozy Mystery Book 1) (14 page)

“That’s a beautiful bell,” Kit said.

Thora handed it over for closer inspection. “A Mayflower heirloom.”

Why would the Pilgrims have brought bells? She knew they’d brought necessities like hatchets and pots and pans but bells? Kit doubted its authenticity.

“Do you use it often?” As old as Thora was, Kit couldn’t imagine how an antique bell featured into the woman’s everyday life.

“Mainly to annoy family members,” she replied, her eyes twinkling. “You should see my niece’s face when I hand this baby over to her son.” She chuckled to herself. “Headaches all around.”

“You should try a bullhorn,” Kit suggested.

Thora gave her a scornful look. “Not terribly genteel, is it?”

Yes, it’s more polite to annoy your family with a dainty antique, Kit thought with amusement.

She followed Thora through the back door and into the kitchen where two glasses of lemonade awaited them.

“So what’s the latest with the investigation?” Thora asked, settling into a chair at the table.

“Nothing concrete,” Kit replied. “The most recent lead was a bust.”

“Oh.” Her mouth drooped. “I thought maybe you’d cracked it since you were allowed to move back in.”

Kit took a big swallow of lemonade and immediately regretted it. There must have been a cup of sugar in there. It took all of her acting ability to hide her disgust.

“No,” she answered with a slight croak. “The police were finished at the house so they said I could come back.”

Thora swirled her lemonade around in her glass. “Have they found the motor home?”

Kit shook her head. “Not that I know of. They’re looking, of course, but they figure the license plate was removed or replaced right after the murder.” Kit wondered why Thora was pumping her for information. “You could speak to the police directly, you know. I’m sure Chief Riley would be happy to put your mind at ease. He seems to love talking to the ladies of Westdale.”

Thora waved her off. “Poppycock. He’s not the eyes and ears of this investigation.” She took a sip of lemonade and smacked her lips. “You are.”

The older woman wasn’t wrong. Chief Riley was too busy schmoozing residents over at the country club to adequately handle a murder investigation. His expertise was limited to parking tickets and neighborly disputes. That was the reason Romeo was involved in the first place. According to Romeo, the Westdale police were more than happy to leave the heavy lifting to Romeo and his team.

“Would you like a slice of pie?” Thora asked. “I picked up fresh cherries from the farmer’s market this weekend.” The weekly market was held on Westdale Green, the open space adjacent to the college grounds.

“I won’t say no to pie,” Kit said. As Thora hobbled to her feet, Kit stopped her. “I’ll get it. Just tell me where it is.”

Thora sank back into her chair. “My arthritis is acting up again. I think it’s the humidity.”

Kit spotted the pie on the counter next to the refrigerator. “Looks delicious.”

“I’m guessing you don’t eat much pie from the look of you.”

Kit took two plates from a cabinet and opened the drawer for a knife and forks. “I’ll admit, I’m a healthy eater, but I also exercise a lot so I can afford the occasional…” She was about to say ‘splurge’ but the item in the drawer caught her off guard.

“Wrong drawer, dear,” Thora said. “The cutlery is in the drawer to your left.”

Kit continued to stare in the drawer. Finally, she gripped the item and held it up for Thora to see. “Does this work?”

Thora squinted. “Of course it does. It’s a Derringer.”

Dear Lord, Thora owned firearms? The thought made Kit uncomfortable. She placed the handgun back in the drawer. “How old is it?”

Thora tapped the table thoughtfully. “I honestly can’t remember. It was a gift from my first husband.”

“Was your first husband a sheriff in the Wild West?”

Thora smiled dreamily. “It has a beautiful gold inlaid barrel band. It’s very rare.”

“Have you ever fired it?” Kit couldn’t tear her eyes from the Derringer. It looked more like a movie prop than a real, working gun.

“Why would I have a gun if I didn’t intend to shoot it?”

Kit raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She located the cutlery drawer and pulled out two forks and a knife.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those bleeding heart liberals that wants me to be murdered in my sleep?” Thora clucked her tongue. “That’s what Hollywood does to a perfectly good conservative girl.”

“Well, if you’re really worried about being murdered in your sleep, why is your weapon of choice in the kitchen drawer next to the birthday candles? Shouldn’t it be closer to your bed?”

Kit brought two slices of cherry pie over to the table. Thora frowned as Kit set a plate in front of her.

“That’s not a generous piece,” she complained.

“And you accused me of not being conservative,” Kit replied, popping a forkful of pie into her mouth. It was a perfect blend of sweet and tart, not unlike its creator.

The sound of shattered glass jolted Kit awake. She leaped from her bed in a state of confusion. She wasn’t sure if the sound came from her house or next door. She kept the light off and crept to the open window to peer outside. Her own backyard appeared dark and quiet.

Kit snaked her way down the hall and then the staircase, careful not step on any creaky floorboards. The eerie silence unnerved her. If someone was in her house, they were in stealth mode.

She kept her back to the wall and made her way to the kitchen at the back of the house. There was no sign of an intruder. Once in the kitchen, she lifted her cell phone from the kitchen table and turned it. Her heart was pounding but she knew she had to check next door. She was certain that the sound of breaking glass was not part of some dream.

Kit unlocked the back door and stepped into the darkness. She decided to check Thora’s house first. May as well start with the neighbor she liked. She hurried across the stretch of lawn that joined the two properties, staying close to the back of Thora’s house. She saw shards of glass dangling in the window frame and her heart contracted. She darted back across the lawn and into her own house, locking the door behind her.

Breathing heavily, she began to text Romeo out of habit but quickly realized that the Westdale Police would be closer, if less competent.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” a nasal voice asked.

“Someone has broken into my neighbor’s house. Please hurry. She’s an old…I mean, mature woman and lives alone.” For a fleeting moment, Kit wondered if she would one day share Thora’s fate. The old lady with a reputation for crazy who lived alone with her antique guns and cherry pies. Poor Thora didn’t even own a cat to eat her face when she died. Life was so unfair.

Kit gave the dispatcher the address and hung up. Next she texted Romeo, in case emergency services took too long. She doubted he was awake, let alone dressed for a quick drive to Westdale, but she was willing to risk annoying her favorite detective if it meant saving Thora from harm.

After a minute of pacing and complete silence outside, she called Jordan. Not only was he on California time, but Jordan was also an insomniac, a fact that came in handy on occasion.

“What’s new, pussycat? Wait, don’t tell me,” Jordan said. “You’ve found another body.”

“I might in five minutes if the police don’t hurry up and get here.”

“What happened?” he asked, sensing her urgency.

“Someone just broke into my neighbor’s house through a back window,” she told him. “I called the police but Westdale’s finest are slower than a one-legged tortoise.”

“So grab a weapon and get over there,” Jordan urged her. “Your old lady neighbor might be helpless, but you’re not.”

Only Jordan would encourage Kit to risk her life at the drop of a hat. He’d always believed in her, to his credit and her detriment.

“I don’t have any weapons,” she replied. “I’m not an actual cop, remember?”

“Okay, what about episode four, season three,” he said, trying to jog her memory. “The one that guest starred the guy from CSI.”

Kit’s eyes sparkled. “Yes, the one with the jewel heist.”

“That’s the one. Ellie happens to be inside that upscale jewelry store that’s a cross between Van Cleef & Arpels and…”

“Jordan, I am about to confront a criminal,” Kit hissed. “Get to the point.”

“Well, the robbers have taken the owner hostage and Ellie has to take them on by herself.”

“She shoots a chandelier that falls on the guy’s head!” Kit took a deep breath in an effort to calm her nerves and slid her feet into her white bunny slippers. “Wait, what does that have to do with my situation?”

“Does your neighbor have a chandelier?”

Kit smacked her forehead. “I can’t wait anymore. Cover me, I’m going in.”

“Keep me on speaker phone,” Jordan suggested. “That way I can call the police if something happens.”

“I’ve already called the police,” Kit reminded him.

“Good point. Then just keep me on speaker phone so I can listen.”

Kit groaned. He was the worst voyeur she knew. Even so, she kept him on the line for her own sanity, tucking the phone into the waistband of her heart-covered pajama shorts.

She grabbed a throw from her sofa before heading back to Thora’s. She placed the blanket over the broken glass before climbing into the house. There’d be no saving Thora if Kit sliced her femoral artery.

“Kit, what’s going on? I can’t see. Wait, are those the heart pjs that Charlie bought for you?” Jordan’s whisper was muffled by the fabric of her pajamas.

Kit shushed him. Leave it to Jordan to douse her with gasoline and then accidentally light up a cigarette.

The sound of movement upstairs stopped her in her tracks. No one yelled for help. No sounds of violence or struggle. She wished she could still the rapid beating of her heart. Then again, if she stood here much longer, she might get her wish.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs forced her to act. She dove beneath the kitchen table and waited quietly as the footsteps came closer. What did she honestly think she was going to achieve here?

A pair of brown loafers came into view and she bit her lip to keep herself from crying out. She prayed that Jordan had the good sense to remain silent.

The brown loafers stopped at the sliding glass door. She heard the turn of a lock and then the door slid open. Clearly, the intruder decided to go back outside the easy way. He left the door open, not bothering to close it behind him. Her cheek pressed to the cool tiles of the kitchen floor, Kit watched as the intruder disappeared into the darkness.

“Kit,” Jordan called as the sound of a siren drowned out the rest of his statement.

Kit bolted from her position under the table and took the stairs two at a time. She hoped that it was a simple robbery and that Thora had been left unharmed.

She pulled her phone from her waistband. “Jordan, I need to hang up. The police are here and I want to check that Thora is okay.” She clicked off the phone and poked her head in the first bedroom. Judging from the lack of clutter, Kit decided that this wasn’t the master bedroom and continued down the hallway.

“Thora,” she called, her voice cracking slightly. “Are you okay?”

The lack of a response spiked Kit’s blood pressure. The next room was empty, too.

“Kit,” Romeo’s voice boomed. “Kit, are you here?”

“Upstairs,” she called. She stood at the base of Thora’s bed, looking around the room.

Romeo appeared in the doorway, unkempt and unshaven. “What are you doing in here? Are you hurt?”

Kit hugged herself. “I’m fine. I came to help Thora, but she isn’t here.” She gestured to the neatly made bed. “She must be sleeping somewhere else tonight. I think we should check with Phyllis.”

“Did you get a look at the intruder?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Just his shoes. Brown loafers, a little worn.”

“We didn’t see anyone outside,” Officer Harley said, stepping into view. “He came in through the back window. There’s glass everywhere.”

Romeo surveyed the room. “Doesn’t look like a robbery, does it?” He walked over to the dresser to inspect the jewelry box that sat in plain sight. He opened it to see orderly rows of jewelry that included diamonds, emeralds and pearls.

“The other bedroom was neat as a pin,” Kit commented. “Did you check the rest of the house?”

Officer Harley nodded. “They’re doing it now.”

“I hate to wake up Phyllis,” Kit said, “but can we see if she knows where Thora is?”

“Absolutely,” Romeo agreed, taking her gently by the elbow and guiding her back downstairs. “Cute slippers, by the way.”

Kit glanced down at her feet and wiggled the bunnies. “They were a gift from the crew on my show. Well, these were from the lighting guys. The other guys gave me a bottle of George Clooney’s tequila and edible underwear.” Her cheeks colored. “Long story.”

Romeo eyed her curiously. “I don’t think I want to know.”

As they crossed the front yard, Romeo stopped to give instructions to Officer Jamison. Kit saw that Phyllis was already awake and standing on her front porch, her hair wrapped in oversized curlers. In fact, most of the neighbors were awake and milling around outside in their robes.

“She’s not there,” Phyllis called as Kit approached.

Kit sighed inwardly. That was a relief. “Someone broke in.”

Phyllis lowered her voice. “Did they take anything?”

“Nothing noticeable.” She glanced back toward the house and saw Romeo jogging over to join them.

“No evidence that anything’s been taken but we’ll need to verify that with Thora,” he said.

“Not like she’ll remember every piece of crap she owns,” Phyllis said, “but by all means, give it a try.”

“Where is she?” Kit asked.

“She’s spending the weekend at her niece’s house,” Phyllis told them. “It’s another Breckenridge birthday. There are so many of them now, I can hardly keep track.”

“Why is her car in the driveway?” Romeo asked.

“Her niece came to pick her up. Thora rarely drives herself anywhere these days, but she doesn’t like to admit it.”

“Did anyone else know that she’d be away this weekend?” Romeo asked.