A Dead End (A Saints & Strangers Cozy Mystery Book 1) (15 page)

Phyllis looked thoughtful. “It wasn’t a secret, but it’s not like she talks to a lot of people about her personal affairs.”

“Do you think the intruder knew she was away and came looking for something?” Kit asked Romeo.

Romeo shrugged. “Well, he didn’t come looking for jewelry.” He fixed his gaze on Phyllis. “Anything else she keeps in the house that might be valuable?”

“She has an antique handgun,” an ornery voice said. Adelaide Pye stood at the bottom of the porch steps, leaning on her metal crutches for support.

“Adelaide,” Phyllis scolded her.

“The police should know,” Adelaide insisted.

“She has a license for it,” Phyllis said, shooting Adelaide a scornful look.

“Do you know where she keeps it?” Romeo asked. “We should make sure it’s still there.”

“In the kitchen drawer,” Kit replied and all eyes shifted to her. “I saw it the other day when we had pie.”

“You were invited in for pie?” Adelaide exclaimed. “I’ve lived on this street for more years than I care to remember and I’ve never once been invited in for pie.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Phyllis muttered.

“Can we focus on the gun, please?” Romeo interjected.

“She moved it under her mattress,” Phyllis said.

“When?” Kit asked.

“She listens to you,” Phyllis said with a shrug. “Apparently, you said the kitchen drawer wasn’t sensible if she was planning to be murdered in her sleep.”

Romeo rolled his eyes. “I’ll go take a look. Thanks.” He hustled down the steps and back across the street to Thora’s house.

“First a murder, now a break-in?” Adelaide queried to no one in particular. “I knew this town would go downhill once we started letting outsiders in.”

“You’re free to move somewhere even more insular,” Phyllis pointed out. “I hear Connecticut is nice this time of year.”

Adelaide huffed and ambled back to her house, the click of her metal crutches on the concrete echoing in the darkness.

“She should just shut up and let people feel sorry for her,” Phyllis murmured.

“Do you have the niece’s number?” Kit asked, ignoring the jibe at Adelaide. “We should probably call.”

Phyllis waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll call her directly. We both have cell phones, you know. We’re not relics.” She bustled into her house and returned with her phone.

“No, that’s just your guns,” Kit shot back. “Are you going to text her?”

“I can’t text because of my arthritis,” Phyllis said. “But sometimes I get Siri to do it for me.”

“I’ll play the role of Siri,” Kit volunteered and Phyllis handed her the phone. She typed a message to Thora and wondered if Thora would even get the message before she returned home.

“Gun was there. Nothing obvious was taken,” Romeo said when he came back from Thora’s house. “The sooner we speak to Thora, the better.”

“Thora said she’ll come back tomorrow afternoon,” Kit announced, reading the reply text. “She doesn’t want to miss the pancake breakfast.”

“Glad to see she has her priorities in order,” Romeo replied archly.

“You’ve never had her niece’s pancakes,” Phyllis retorted.

Romeo touched Kit’s arm. “Show’s over for now. Do you want me to walk you home?”

She smiled up at him. “I live right there, you know.”

“I know.”

“And I went into Thora’s house knowing there was an intruder inside. I’m not easily intimidated.”

“Pretty foolish if you ask me,” Phyllis chimed in.

“No one asked you, Phyllis,” Kit said.

“Sweet dreams, Kit,” Phyllis called over her shoulder as she retreated into her house.

Kit and Romeo walked back across the street and stood on Kit’s front lawn.

“Maybe when this is all over, you and I can have a conversation that doesn’t revolve around crime.” Romeo smiled and Kit noticed the faint dimple in his chin for the first time.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she asked, nudging him with her shoulder.

“I’ll show you,” he said, and then added with a wink, “someday.”

Kit listened to her Practical Wisdom professor with half an ear. Although she enjoyed the philosophical musings of stout Professor Grove, her mind was stuck on the previous night’s events. She knew she should be more shaken up than she actually felt. She couldn’t help it, though. She wanted to understand why someone broke into Thora’s house, whether it was connected to Ernie’s murder. After all, the story had just gone public and then there was an intruder in the house next door. Could that possibility be a coincidence? Did it mean that geriatric Thora
had
been involved in Ernie’s death? Was she holding on to a piece of evidence that the killer hoped to retrieve?

“Miss Wilder, what would be your response?” Professor Grove inquired, his gaze fixed in her direction.

Kit’s deer-in-the-headlights expression didn’t go unnoticed.

“Remind us of Socrates’ view on phronesis,” the professor urged. At least he was friendly about it and not snapping his fingers in her face like one of her directors used to do. It had taken all her strength not to bite him.

“He equated it with virtue,” Kit replied, struggling to recall the text that she’d read a few nights ago. It all seemed like a blur now.

“Good. And what is virtue?”

Kit racked her brain. Patience is a virtue? No, that wasn’t it. “Goodness?” she squeaked.

Professor Grove slapped his desk in excitement. “Yes. And how do we demonstrate goodness? What does it mean?”

A dozen hands shot up. Clearly, other students had followed the reading more carefully. Kit listened as a young man talked about moral and ethical strength. That good people acted reasonably and intelligently. Kit chewed on this idea for the remainder of the class. Thora struck her as a good person, albeit odd and a little spoiled. Could she have contributed to a murder because she’d acted unreasonably and unintelligently? Then didn’t that make her a bad person?

“Miss Wilder, you look confused,” Professor Grove remarked.

Kit felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “I just feel like there are situations where a person might act unreasonably or unintelligently and still be a good person at her core.”

“Aristotle believed in real world applications of this concept,” he replied. “He thought that life experience would help a person put their goodness in context, to take other factors into consideration and act accordingly.”

Thora certainly had a lot of life experience. Had she taken other factors into account and acted accordingly? Everyone said that Ernie was a jerk of epic proportions. Maybe Thora had decided to threaten him with her Derringer, not intending to shoot him, and things had gone horribly awry. Good intentions, bad outcome. Kit had her own personal list of those. Sadly, these situations happened all the time. That fact didn’t stop her from hoping, however, that Ernie’s murder was not one of those times.

Kit was pleased when Romeo texted and asked her to meet him at Provincetown Pancakes. At this rate, she’d need to start exercising twice a day. She hadn’t remembered Westdale being this fattening. For a brief moment, she wished she had enough money to fly Hans out for a fitness boot camp. Those days were over, though, and she needed to accept it.

Romeo was in the same booth as the last time they’d met here. She tried not to label it as ‘their booth.’ It was definitely too soon, especially considering their interactions to date all centered around a murder.

“How was class?” he asked. “What was it today, The Art of Quiet Contemplation?”

“That’s insulting,” she said, sliding into the seat across from him. “It was Practical Wisdom.”

He snorted, taking them both by surprise. Kit laughed. “I didn’t peg you for a snorter.”

“I’m not, usually.” He seemed slightly embarrassed in a way that Kit found charming.

The server appeared as if summoned by magic. “Hi Miss Wilder. Will it be a short stack with a side of blueberries today?”

Kit blinked. She remembered her order from last time? “Um, sure.”

The server turned to Romeo. “Divine Sampler?”

He nodded crisply, equally in awe.

The server cracked her gum and smiled. “Everybody’s got a talent for something.” She took their menus and walked back toward the kitchen.

“I think this is my new favorite place,” Romeo said. “I’ve been going to the diner in my neck of the woods since I was a kid and no one there ever remembers what I order.”

“Where is your neck of the woods anyway?” Kit asked.

“I grew up in Philly,” Romeo said.

“Is that where you live now?”

“No, my folks are there, but I live on the outskirts of Eastdale.”

“No wonder you get here so quickly. Do you actually hang out in Fanatics? Is that why you were there?”

“I like a good sports bar as much as the next guy,” he replied diplomatically. “But I was there to speak to your boyfriend Delfino.”

The server returned with two glasses of water. Kit noticed her wink at Romeo as she turned away.

“I guess she’s your fan now,” Kit observed dryly.

Romeo grinned. “Jealous?”

“It’s nearly as bad as losing half my Twitter followers during the last purge.”

Romeo cocked his head. “I have no idea what that means, but I’ll take your word for it.” He opened the cloth napkin and unfolded it neatly onto his lap. “So I’ve been thinking about the break-in.”

“Me, too,” Kit exclaimed. “It was distracting during class. Professor Grove could tell I wasn’t fully there.”

“I don’t think this was a random burglary,” he continued. “I think it was related to the murder, but I haven’t figured out why.”

“Did you find out for sure whether anything was stolen?”

“Thora hasn’t been able to identify any missing items.”

“And you trust her judgment?” Kit queried. “I mean, I like her a lot, but she stored an ancient Derringer in her kitchen drawer between the can opener and the pink polka dot birthday candles.”

“Point taken,” Romeo said. “Do you think it’s odd that she moved the gun to under her mattress after the story broke?”

Kit bit her lip. “Like she hid it because she knew someone might try to take it to prove her involvement?”

Romeo shrugged. “Maybe, although I had a look at the gun. I don’t think it could blow an ant off a picnic basket.”

“She moved the gun because of me. I made fun of her for storing it there and suggested it be closer to her bed. If an intruder comes at night, she’s not going to be sitting around in her kitchen, is she?”

“She is old,” Romeo said. “Don’t elderly people develop insomnia?”

“Still. Why keep it in her kitchen drawer if she intends to use it to defend herself?”

“She lives in Westdale,” Romeo pointed out. “It’s the safest town in the Mid-Atlantic. What makes her think she’d have an intruder at all?”

Kit blew out a breath. She had no clue. “Is there a chance that the intruder was looking for me?”

Romeo’s chin lifted. “You mean because of the article? Some idiot thought they were breaking into your house?”

Kit nodded. “You said I might get a few stalkers.”

Romeo rubbed his temples. “I hadn’t considered it, but I guess it’s possible.”

“What about the motor home or Paul’s brother?” she asked. “Any progress there?”

The server appeared and set down their respective plates. Kit thanked her, but the server’s eyes were glued to Romeo.

“This looks amazing,” Romeo said. “I think there’s extra sausage.” He looked immensely pleased with this unexpected outcome.

“Enjoy,” the server said.

“Thanks.” Romeo scanned her uniform for a nametag. “Thank you, Polly.”

“No problem. Let me know if you need anything else. Anything at all.”

Kit was sure that Polly had added an extra wiggle to her walk for Romeo’s benefit. Too bad for her that he was focused on his overflowing plate of food.

“How can you eat all this?” Kit asked. “You clearly have excellent metabolism.” She frowned. “I hate men. They’re so lucky.”

“I don’t overdo it on beer. I work out, like you.” He hesitated. “Well, probably not like you. I don’t Zumba or whatever. I lift weights and box. I’m also over six feet tall.”

Kit stabbed her pancakes. “I box, too,” she mumbled.

“We haven’t been able to track down the motor home or Carl,” Romeo told her.

“And do you think that’s because they’re together?” Kit asked.

“Hard to say. The thing is, we can’t locate Paul either.”

Kit paused mid-chew. “Paul? My stable guy?”

“I think you’ll find he’s employed by your mother, not you,” Romeo said good-naturedly.

“Did you get his address from Huntley?”

“We did and we spoke to his siblings. They hadn’t seen him in days and hadn’t seen Carl for over a year.”

Kit’s mind was racing. “Paul’s a good person. I feel it in my bones.”

“The way Ernie felt it in his bones?” Romeo queried. “You saw how they ended up.”

Kit shook her head adamantly. “Paul is not involved. No way.” She tried to drum up an alternate suspect. “What about Peregrine? Can’t you make her talk? We could always get perps to talk on
Fool’s Gold
.”

“Easy when they have scriptwriters who tell them what to say,” Romeo said.

“We had consultants,” Kit protested. “Real life cops. Guys from covert ops. Lots of people with real world experience to make it more authentic for the audience.”

“We’re not covert ops,” Romeo replied. “And we’re not a television show.”

Kit bristled. “I think we should take another stab at Peregrine…literally.” She held up her fork.

“Now, now,” Romeo cautioned. “You don’t want to make comments like that to a detective.” He pushed his plate toward her. “Sausage? There’s plenty.”

Kit pushed the plate back toward him. She didn’t want his sausage. Not today anyway.

Now that Kit was living in her new home, she was finally starting to settle into a routine. She was a creature of habit and felt best when she was organized and in control.

After homework and an hour of cardio, Kit decided to water herself and her front garden, hoping to revive some of the sadder-looking flowers. The fact that the flowers were still alive suggested that one of her neighbors had been secretly tending to them. Kit knew which neighbor she’d put her money on.