If You've Got It, Haunt It Page 16

  Wind Song sat next to the spilled deck. With her front paw, she reached forward, touching one of the cards. She pulled it away from the others, then placed her paw on two more and dragged them away from the deck. With remarkable agility, she then scratched an ear with her hind foot.

  “I think she’s done,” Heather said.

  “Done with what?” I asked.

  “She picked out the cards. Now all I have to do is read them.” Heather picked up the cards and spread them out on the counter.

  Charlotte moved closer. “I have got to see this.”

  Wind Song commenced to lick her delicate paws. Her toes were pale pink, to match her nose. She didn’t seem concerned with what we were doing—her job was already done. Heather turned the cards face up and studied them. Each card showed a cat dressed in an elaborate costume with gold and jewels.

  “I can’t believe you brought cat-themed tarot cards,” I said.

  “I thought they were fitting,” Heather said with a smile.

  “So what do the cards say?” I asked.

  Heather tapped the first card. “Wind Song pulled out the Fool. That means she is trying to warn you of recklessness and risk-taking.”

  She studied the next card. “This is the Magician. It means that you should tap into your latent talents.”

  Wind Song moved from grooming her front paws to the back paws.

  “Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” Charlotte said.

  Heather picked up the third card and placed it in front of me. “This card is the lovers.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Maybe you’ll meet someone soon.”

  “I certainly hope so,” Charlotte said.

  My cheeks turned red. “The cat is incredible! It’s as if she knew exactly which cards were relevant to the situation.”

  The three of us stood next to Wind Song, unsure of what else to say. I knew one thing. I hadn’t bought any of that cheap cat food since the Ouija board warning.

  Chapter 26

  Heather’s Heartfelt Tip for Getting Rid of an Unwanted Ghost

  Burn white candles to surround yourself

  with positive energy.

  Again, don’t forget the fire extinguisher.

  The next morning, I was busy dressing one of the mannequins in a lovely apple green colored Dior pantsuit when Detective Valentine entered the shop. It wouldn’t have been a problem if he hadn’t caught me talking to Charlotte again. Wind Song was nowhere in sight. How would I blame the cat?

  He looked around the shop. “Talking to the cat again?”

  I chuckled. “Yes, but it looks as if she disappeared without telling me.”

  I’d left the detective a message to call me as soon as possible, but I hadn’t thought he would stop in the shop. I’d assumed he would just return my call.

  It was time to tell him the truth. Well, maybe I wouldn’t tell him the part about talking to ghosts and cats.

  He leaned against a rack of pillbox hats from a millinery shop that had gone out of business. “I just picked up your message this morning. It sounded like something was wrong.” His blue eyes sparkled under the lights.

  I finished fitting the jacket onto the mannequin and faced him. “Yes, there is something I need to tell you.”

  Charlotte piped up from my side, “You can always back out now. Don’t tell him anything.”

  I ignored her. I knew telling him was something I had to do. “You asked why I was so concerned about Charlotte’s death. Well, I was at Cindy Johnson’s home the other day and I found something.” I rushed my words.

  He straightened. “What did you find?”

  I walked over to the counter and reached underneath, retrieving the silk square scarf from my purse. I held it up. “I found this.”

  “And?” he asked.

  “Charlotte was wearing this scarf the day she was murdered.” I swirled it through the air for dramatic effect.

  “I love that scarf. The deep emerald color with the gold diamond pattern is stunning.” Charlotte’s low voice carried memories from when she’d worn that scarf during happier times.

  He stepped closer and took the item from my outstretched hand. “How do you know that she was wearing the scarf?”

  Hmm. I hadn’t thought this part through well enough. “Oh,” I ad libbed, “because I saw her wearing it that day?” I hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question.

  “That was lame,” Charlotte offered.

  His strong jaw tensed. “You saw the victim on the day of her murder.”

  “Hey, I am not just a victim. I have a name,” Charlotte said.

  I didn’t like lying, but what other option did I have? “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Where did you see her?” he asked.

  “Um, right here in my shop.”

  “Okay. Let’s say she was wearing this scarf. What does that have to do with anything?” he asked.

  I took the scarf from his hand. “I believe it was used to kill Charlotte.”

  He ran his hand through his thick dark hair as if that would make clear what I’d just told him.

  “Uh-oh. I think you’re in trouble now,” Charlotte warned. “See, you should have kept this info to yourself.”

  She was probably right, but it was too late.

  “And why do you think this was used to kill her?” He pointed at the scarf.

  “Well, I happened to see it at Cindy’s. How else would it have been there if not for the fact that it had been used to kill Charlotte?”

  Unfortunately, now that I thought about it other possibilities came to mind. Cindy could have borrowed it from Charlotte. Or even stolen it. Or Charlotte could have lost it and Cindy picked it up to give back to her next time they saw each other. But Charlotte had never mentioned those possibilities—only I couldn’t tell the detective that.

  “I don’t think he believes you,” Charlotte said.

  Why should he believe me? I’d made up this story and I knew it didn’t sound right.

  “Are you accusing Cindy Johnson of murdering Charlotte?” he asked. “That’s a pretty strong accusation.”

  “Well, how else would she have gotten the scarf?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Did you ever think that maybe she had a scarf just like the one Charlotte Meadows was wearing?”

  “It was a rare scarf. It was highly unlikely that Cindy Johnson would have one, too.”

  “You got him,” Charlotte said.

  He couldn’t argue with that. If there was one thing I understood, it was clothing and he knew that. He might be the professional when it came to solving crimes, but I knew fashion, and those two things had crossed paths.

  But I couldn’t tell him why. Then he’d know I had been snooping around Cindy’s home.

  “I have to tell you, Ms. Chanel, this is a bit of a stretch. I can’t accuse someone of murder just because you found a scarf. You did find the scarf, correct?” He touched the silk fabric one more time.

  “Of course?” Once again my answer came out more as a question than an answer and I certainly didn’t sound convinced.

  “I don’t think Detective Valentine is buying your story,” Charlotte said.

  Yeah, she didn’t have to point that out.

  “I appreciate you telling me all of this, but I think it’s better if you leave the investigation to the police.” His pushed the scarf across the counter toward me.

  I was in too far to get out now, but I wouldn’t tell him that. “You asked me to tell you the truth.” Well, I’d almost told him the truth, but that was neither here nor there.

  “Yes, and I appreciate that. If you think of anything else, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

  Charlotte scoffed. “Yeah, right. So he can act like you are crazy.”

  “Are you sure there isn’t something else you want to tell me?” he asked.

  I glanced over at Charlotte. Could he see her, too? No, he wouldn’t be able to keep that quiet.

  “There was one other thing,” I said.
/>   His eyes widened. “Yes? I’m listening.”

  “There were strange men at Cindy’s home.”

  “Don’t tell him you were hiding in the closet,” Charlotte said.

  “I’m confused. Who were these people?” he asked.

  “Cindy was acting weird, too. She took off when I was at her home and then the men showed up. I think they were looking for her. And I saw them behind me yesterday.”

  He pondered what I’d just told him. “Did you speak with the men?”

  “No, I didn’t want to get involved.” I folded the scarf so that I could keep my fidgeting hands busy.

  The cat weaved around Dylan’s legs, purring as she made the loop.

  “Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”

  “What? I’m not involved.” I wanted to bat my eyelashes and play innocent, but didn’t think he would fall for that.

  “I’ll speak with Ms. Johnson. I’m sure if you saw those men again, it was purely a coincidence.”

  I absentmindedly picked at the edge of a paper sitting on the counter. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “Well, we won’t wait for him to look into it. We’ll track those men down ourselves,” Charlotte huffed.

  I didn’t know how to break it to her, but I had no desire to track down those dark-suited strangers who’d felt the need to break in to Cindy Johnson’s home.

  “There was something else,” I said hesitantly.

  He flashed that sexy look at me again. “Yes?”

  “Someone-has-left-threatening-messages-for-meon-my-blog.” I rushed the words.

  He moved a few steps closer. “Show me.”

  I opened my laptop and waited for the e-mails to pop up. He leaned in close and the smell of woodsy spice surrounded me. I ignored his closeness and concentrated on the task at hand.

  “There. Read that.” I pointed to the screen.

  His expression changed from curious to worried as he read. “You don’t know who left the messages?”

  I closed my laptop. “No, I’ve never had anything like that happen, not until I discovered the dead man. The second one came after I found the scarf.”

  Dylan studied my face. “Do you have an alarm system in your home? What about mace? Make sure to carry your cell phone with you at all times.”

  “I’ll look into getting an alarm and mace.” My voice didn’t sound quite as confident as before.

  “I’ll look into this and see what I can find out. Do you mind if I have the password for your blog for our tech team?”

  I jotted down the password and handed it to him.

  “You’ll call me right away if this happens again?” He put the paper in his pocket.

  “Yes, right away.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  As he walked out of the shop, I wondered if I’d done the right thing. What would happen now?

  “You shouldn’t let his good looks get in the way of this investigation,” Charlotte said.

  I scoffed. “I hardly think that’s a concern. And this isn’t an investigation. I own a clothing boutique. I’m not one of Charlie’s Angels.”

  “Well, that’s evident,” she said.

  I lifted the mannequin and placed it in the window display. Wind Song watched from her favorite spot in the sunshine.

  “Cookie, I just remembered something,” Charlotte said as she marched toward me. “Why didn’t I think of it earlier?”

  I placed the mannequin’s arms in position, then looked at her. “What?”

  “My no-good boyfriend had me cosign for a loan.” Anger dripped from her words.

  “And? What about it?” I asked, stepping away from the window.

  “Well, I was suspicious of the papers because they had some odd clauses in them. She fidgeted from foot to foot.

  “Then why did you sign?”

  Charlotte pasted a polite smile on her face. “I wanted to trust him.”

  The expression on her face made me feel bad for her. I understood what it was like to be let down by someone you thought you could trust.

  The bell jingled as Heather opened the door and stepped through the doorway. She wore designer jeans and a loose white silk blouse. Her gladiator sandals slapped the floor. “How’s it going? Has Wind Song said anything else?” She whispered as if she didn’t want Wind Song to know we were talking about her.

  I straightened the sale sign above the rack on my way past. “No, she’s been quiet.”

  “Tell her about what happened.” Charlotte nudged with her elbow.

  “I told Detective Valentine about finding the scarf and about the threats on my blog.”

  Heather pulled a treat from her pocket and handed it to the cat, who batted it across the floor before pouncing on it and eating it. “What did he say?”

  “He basically told me to stay out of the investigation.” I slumped my shoulders.

  “That’s not good,” she said.

  “No, it’s not, but it’s too late for me to stay out of it now, right?” I asked.

  A strand of blond hair fell across Heather’s forehead and she brushed it back. “Maybe if you drop it, the person making the threats will leave you alone.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” Charlotte said with panic in her voice.

  Wind Song jumped up on the counter, stretching out in front of me.

  I stroked the cat from her head all the way down her back to her fluffy tail. “I promised Charlotte I would help her.”

  Charlotte’s expression softened. “Thank-you.”

  “I understand, but I don’t want to see you get hurt . . . or worse.” Heather touched my arm.

  “I promise I’ll be careful,” I said.

  “So what are you going to do next?” Heather asked.

  “Well, Charlotte was just telling me that she’d cosigned for a loan for her boyfriend. I figure maybe I should go back and ask him about it.” I picked at the edge of my shirt.

  Heather picked up a pink cotton blouse with a white Peter Pan collar from the stack of clothing on the counter. “After the way he acted?”

  I handed her a hanger. “I know, but what other option do I have?”

  “Well, I can’t let you go there by yourself. He won’t act that way with two of us.” She straightened the blouse on the hanger and placed it on the rack of clothing that I had been preparing to take out to the sales floor.

  “Three of us.” I smiled and gestured toward Charlotte.

  Heather grinned. “Yeah, the three of us.”

  Chapter 27

  Cookie’s Savvy Vintage Fashion Shopping Tip

  Be early for estate and yard sales.

  The early bird gets the worm. Or the de la Renta.

  I jumped into my Buick. An awkward moment later, Heather and Charlotte tried to sit in the front passenger seat at the same time.

  “Heather, watch out. You just sat on Charlotte’s lap.”

  Heather leaped back to the sidewalk. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know!”

  Charlotte drifted to the rear seat. “See how nice I am? I’m letting her have the front seat.”

  I looked at Heather. “Get back in. She moved to the back.” When my passengers were settled, I shifted into gear and headed to Bud’s house.

  “What’s it like having a ghost around all the time?” Heather glanced over her shoulders.

  “It’s absolutely divine,” was Charlotte’s answer.

  “It’s not that great,” was mine as I glanced in the rearview mirror.

  “I’ll get you for that later,” Charlotte warned.

  As we pulled up to Bud’s house, I noticed there was no car in the driveway and the garage door was open. “That’s odd.”

  Charlotte scoffed. “Oh, it’s nothing. He’s so ditzy that he forgets and drives off with the door open all the time.”

  I inched the Buick forward a little more and then stopped. “So you’re saying he’s not home?”

  “Probably not,” Charlotte said.

  “Ev
en better,” Heather said, climbing out of the car when I shoved it into neutral and set the parking brake.

  I took the keys from the ignition, then joined Heather on the sidewalk. Charlotte was already on the porch motioning for us to hurry up.

  “What are we going to do if he’s not at home?” Heather asked as we made our way up the driveway toward the front door.

  I hadn’t thought about that. “I’ll just ring the doorbell to make sure. If he’s not, we’ll have to come back later.”

  “Ring the bell and if he doesn’t answer, I’ll find another way for y’all to get in,” Charlotte said.

  My eyes widened. “I can’t go into his house if he’s not home. The police would frown on that.” I’d already entered Charlotte’s home and didn’t want a repeat of that fiasco. And I’d been in Cindy’s house after she left.

  “We won’t tell the police, now will we?” Charlotte winked.

  “She wants us to break in to his house,” I said to Heather.

  “I didn’t say break in. I just said we’ll find another way in,” Charlotte said.

  “What’s the difference?” I asked.

  “You know, I don’t think that’s a bad idea,” Heather said.

  “I’m beginning to like this girl.” Charlotte wiggled her finger with a smile.

  Stepping up to the door, I pushed the bell. A loud drawn-out chime sounded through the house. I wasn’t holding out much hope that Bud was home. I rang the bell again just to make sure.

  “I told you he wasn’t home,” Charlotte said. “Go around to the door inside the garage. He usually leaves it unlocked. Like I said, he’s not the smartest guy.”

  “Then why did you go out with him?” I asked.

  “He was nice to me. When he was around me, no one else was in his world. He made me feel like a queen,” she said wistfully.

  We hurried around the house to the garage. I was hesitant to go inside. “I don’t think we should be doing this,” I said to Heather.

  “Well, I guess if the door is open . . . it wouldn’t be like we’d broken in or anything,” she said as much to herself as to me.

  I released a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess not.” I eased over to the garage entrance.

  We weaved around the lawn mower and other various pieces of garden equipment on our way through the garage. I knocked on the side door.