Faith, Rope, and Love: Faith and Foils Cozy Mystery Series Book #4 Page 8

  “There you are!” Lexy’s voice pierced the air. Cassie turned to see her waving from behind a low iron fence at the edge of the canal. Brent had his arm around her.

  Cassie waved and finished removing her skates. Then she tied the ends of the laces together and hung the skates around their neck.

  Lexy met her at the top of the stairs and gave her a hug. “Having fun?” She eyed Daniel as he shook Brent’s hand.

  “Yes. How about you?” Cassie did her own eyeing as she looked at Brent’s free hand, reaching for Lexy’s.

  She smiled and mouthed, “Best night ever.”

  When the others caught up, the group made their way over to the ice sculptures.

  “This is incredible!” Daniel took out his phone to snap a few photos of two ice stallions galloping in the snow.

  “Look at this one, Mr. Daniel!” Lily tugged at his sleeve and directed his attention to an ice princess lying on a bed of ice flowers.

  Cassie grinned, enjoying Daniel’s reactions to the sculptures as much as she enjoyed the sculptures themselves. The group wound past the wonderful creations, taking in dragons, castles, lions, dolphins, and even an ice library with sculped books on all the shelves. Daniel liked that one the best.

  When the tour was over, Olivia and Lily ran up to a BeaverTail kiosk to claim a place in line.

  “I guess it’s time for a snack.” Maggie laughed.

  Daniel pulled Cassie into the line and clasped his hands together. “I’m up for that.”

  Brent and Lexy took their spot behind them.

  “What kind do you want?” Brent leaned in close to Lexy, attentively waiting for her answer.

  “The chocolate banana one.”

  “What?” Daniel furrowed his brows. “What are these things?” He looked at a couple of people heading away from the kiosk, their BeaverTails in hand.

  “The most delectable pastries you’ll ever have.” Cassie hugged herself and grinned. “They’re long and flat, like a beaver’s tail, and covered in cinnamon, sugar, or specialty toppings like chocolate or brownies.”

  “Just remember,” Rick jabbed Daniel’s shoulder. “I only offered to pay for one.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the group gathered at a nearby tree to enjoy their delicacies. Cassie savoured every bit of each bite—both chewy and crunchy at the same time.

  “These... these are...mmm...” Daniel took another bite before he could finish his sentence.

  Brent stole a bite of Lexy’s. “My sentiments exactly. I’m glad I didn’t have to work tonight.”

  “Speaking of work...” Cassie found her way in. “How did the interviews with the neighbours go today?”

  “A waste of time. One guy tried to refuse us entry, and after he relented, he refused to answer my questions. Was upset we’d allowed a murder to take place on his street.”

  Cassie knew this must have been Edward Morris. “Did you explain to him you weren’t on the force then?” She giggled.

  “Yup. He didn’t seem to care.”

  “And the other neighbour?”

  Brent shook his head. “No help. He has dementia and could barely carry a conversation.”

  “I see. Is he safe living alone?”

  “How do you know he lives alone?” He glanced at Lexy, who only shrugged.

  “I visited with Anna today.” And her neighbours, but she wasn’t about to tell Brent that—yet.

  “Hmm.” Brent studied her as if waiting for more information.

  Cassie stayed silent.

  He continued. “We’re sending someone to check in on him next week. To try and get him a proper assessment.”

  “Good. I’m glad. And I know Anna will be, too. Did you find out anything interesting at all?”

  “Oh!” Lexy elbowed Brent between bites. “Tell her about Edward’s call!”

  “Call?” Cassie watched Brent’s face. It held a normal expression, so he must not have minded Lexy mentioning it.

  “He called just as we were leaving to come here, to make a complaint about noise coming from the mansion.”

  “Noise? What kind of noise?”

  “A screeching, wailing noise. Says he hasn’t heard it since the seventies. Figures by moving the remains, we upset the ghost who lives there.”

  “Interesting.” Cassie ran her fingers over her mouth.

  “Why?”

  “Anna swore she saw shadows moving in front of the upstairs windows of the mansion this morning.”

  “She saw the ghost?” Lexy crumpled up her empty BeaverTail wrapper.

  “I didn’t say she saw a ghost,” Cassie answered. “But she did see a shadow. Something’s going on in there.”

  “And I will find out what it is.” Brent cast Cassie a warning glare.

  Cassie smiled and nodded, but a plan already started to form in her mind. She’d agreed not to break anymore laws or act unethically, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t snoop within certain boundaries.

  Chapter 13

  Despite the soreness in her legs from skating the night before, Cassie decided to treat herself to a brisk walk before opening the store. The air was cool but refreshing. There were no sounds except the crisp snow under her feet and the chorus of chickadees and blue jays visiting various shrubs for their breakfast.

  Though the mergansers swimming in the mist beyond the ice were breathtaking, her quick jaunt down the river path didn’t turn up any eagles. She’d have to make more of an effort to check for them regularly. Cassie turned back to the street to walk the quaint village blocks instead.

  A few people were out and about, filling their bird feeders or starting up their cars, but most of the sleepy-town villagers seemed to be taking comfort inside their warm, cozy homes. Including those on Elm Street.

  Cassie couldn’t help herself. She had to walk by the mansion. It was still and quiet, as usual, but for some reason, Cassie felt like the air thickened as she neared—as if there was a tension surrounding it.

  Or maybe she was feeling her own anxiety. For years and years, her dream mansion had housed a murdered woman in its rafters. Who could have done such a thing? And why? The unanswered questions penetrated her mind without relenting.

  She glanced up and down the street. No home showed any signs of life. Would anyone notice if she snuck up to the porch and peeked in a window?

  Her glance lingered on Edward’s home. The curtains were drawn.

  Cassie rushed up the walkway to the mansion before she could change her mind. It wouldn’t hurt to look, would it?

  She walked around the side of the porch to the nearest non-boarded window and put her face to the glass. The panes were thin and murky, and the darkness inside made it impossible to see anything.

  Cassie frowned and returned to the front of the porch. Maybe this was a silly idea. What did she expect to see? A ghost-making machine in plain sight?

  Ghosts. Both Anna and Edward had seen or heard something. Someone had to be trying to scare people away. But why? What was still to be found in this mysterious mansion?

  On a whim, Cassie tried the front door handle. Locked. Brent had greased the mechanism and got it working before the investigators arrived the other day, and had kept the key. She jiggled the handle up and down in frustration. The latch clicked.

  It opened!

  The police using it after all these years must have jarred the old parts loose inside.

  Cassie couldn’t resist. After another quick glance at Edward’s closed curtains, she let herself inside.

  She shivered. Was it possible the house was colder inside than out? Cassie shook her head and chalked it up to nerves.

  Everything looked the same as the last time she was here. She turned on her phone’s flashlight to illuminate the space.

  No, things weren’t quite the same.

  She directed the light beam to a painting on the wall. The dust along the frame had been disturbed. Someone had touched it. Cassie gently pulled the side of the picture away from the wall, but there was n
othing behind it. Then she noticed the same dust disturbance on the next painting. And the one after that. And inside the grand piano and on the end table. In fact, everything in the room had been touched or moved and put back. Her neck muscles tensed.

  But then, Cassie recalled the number of people who’d been in the house when the forensics team had been here to do their duty. Of course. They’d probably given the place a good going over as part of their investigation. Her shoulders relaxed a little.

  She thought of the crime scene. There had been so many crates and boxes in the attic. Did the investigators go through everything? Was it all strewn about? What was in all those boxes, anyway? Again, an irresistible urge drew her forth. She was already inside the house. What would it hurt to peek upstairs? Perhaps she could discover something the investigators had missed, and get back on Brent’s good side. Besides, the successes she’d had at solving mysteries over the last year increased her thirst for righting wrongs. And thinking of poor Marilyn, alone in this mansion without justice being served... Cassie chewed her lip. It was unfair and something had to be done about it.

  Cassie quietly climbed the sweeping staircase to the second floor, momentarily imagining Marilyn in her cute sixties dress, descending the same stairs. What had really happened to her? Did her husband really murder her? Had Edward? And if it was someone else, who? And why?

  The second floor had been equally gone over by the forensics team. Some of the peeling wallpaper had been ripped off and lay in a heap on the floor. A painting had been completely removed and sat leaning against the wall in the hall. She peeked into a bedroom. The old quilt and blankets had been pulled off the bed, and the mattress tipped onto its side.

  Creak. Thump.

  Noises came from one of the other bedrooms. Cassie peeked around her room’s doorway and into the hall.

  It was quiet again.

  Which room had the noise come from? She tiptoed down the hall and peeked into the next bedroom. Empty.

  Thump.

  Cassie jerked her head toward the room at the end. Someone, or something, was in there.

  She shook her head. It wasn’t something. It was someone. But who?

  Stealthily, Cassie moved down the hallway. Until a board creaked under her feet.

  Another thump. And then silence.

  Against her better judgement, Cassie ran into the room, shining her flashlight into its corners.

  Nothing.

  No one.

  She turned. If someone was here, the closet was the only place to hide. Her mind screamed at her. She should leave. Now. If there really was someone hiding there, what motive would they have? Was it someone connected to the murder? Someone with information? On the other hand, did she really want to confront someone in a big, empty house?

  Yet, if someone could share further details about the murder, wouldn’t she be helping Brent by finding out?

  Another thought struck her. Maybe the person in there was the murderer. If so, Cassie could solve the case right now.

  To be safe, Cassie lifted her phone and scrolled to the page where she had Daniel’s number on speed dial. Her thumb hovered over the photo, ready to tap in an instant if necessary.

  Holding her breath, Cassie reached for the closet doorknob. This was it. The moment of truth. Before she could chicken out, she yanked the door open and directed her light into the darkness.

  Empty.

  This made no sense. She’d heard someone in this room. She pushed some clothing aside to double check behind the long dresses.

  Nothing.

  Cassie pushed on the back of the closet to see if the wall would give. Could there be a secret passage?

  But the wall was solid.

  She sighed and turned to examine each wall of the bedroom. Other than some torn paper and graffiti, nothing seemed abnormal. There were no odd creases in the wall or bookcases to move.

  Could she have been wrong about which room the noise originated from?

  Cassie scurried back into the hallway and quickly scanned the other three rooms.

  No one was here.

  A sudden scratching noise above her made her jump. The attic.

  She aimed her light up and followed the noise across the ceiling and down the wall.

  Cassie laughed. It must be a squirrel! She shook her head and sighed. All this talk of ghost stories and she, herself, had been taken in. How ridiculous.

  She checked her phone. It was time to head home and get ready for work. Still laughing at her foolishness, Cassie skipped down the stairs to the main floor, sliding her hand along the dusty banister rail.

  At the bottom, she followed the railing as it curved and brought her to the side table where Daniel had found Marilyn’s photo. There was another photo there, jammed between the wall and the table. Cassie pulled it out of the crack and dusted it off. A man wearing a polyester suit stared back at her. He had similar features to Wayne Howard. Maybe a photo of him as a young man.

  Again, she mulled over the mystery. What had happened all those years ago? Would they ever find the truth this many years later?

  Something whizzed by her head.

  Smash!

  An old porcelain vase lay in pieces on the floor, inches away from her.

  “Hey!” Cassie yelled up the stairs. “I know you’re up there! Who are you?”

  Her call was met with silence.

  She inched toward the front door, keeping her eye on the stairs, and pulled Brent’s number up on her phone.

  “Cassie? What’s up?”

  “Brent! I’m at the mansion. I think someone just tried to kill me.”

  Chapter 14

  “Get out of there, now!” Brent commanded. “I’ll be right over. Promise me you’ll leave.”

  “I will. I promise. Leaving now.” Cassie reached behind her to open the door, keeping an eye on the stairs the entire time.

  “Are you hurt at all?”

  “No.”

  “Thank God. Wait for us out on the sidewalk. And if someone comes out of the house, run away. I mean it!”

  “Okay, okay. I will.”

  Cassie shut the door behind her and ran down the porch steps. Brent was angry with her. And rightfully so. But if he caught the killer, Cassie was sure he’d forgive her.

  She walked backwards down the walkway, keeping an eye on the front door. If anyone ran out of the house, she’d see who it was. She held her phone up, ready to snap a photo.

  A siren wailed. Brent was already on the way. Thankfully the station was only a couple of blocks over—another benefit of a small town.

  The siren stopped, but lights flashed as the police car pulled onto Elm Street. Cassie quickly redirected her gaze back to the house. No way was she going to miss someone coming out.

  The car stopped behind her, and two car doors slammed.

  Lexy ran up. “Cassie! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “What happened?” Brent appeared, dressed head to toe in his black police garb.

  “Someone threw a vase at my head. But they missed. I’m all right.”

  He gently grabbed her arm. “What were you doing in there? You can’t keep overstepping me, Cassie. You’re going to get yourself killed!”

  “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to. I was walking by and... I couldn’t resist taking a peek.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to learn how to resist. From now on. Or the only thing you’ll end up having a chance to resist is an arrest.”

  “Okay. I get it.” Cassie frowned. “But in the meantime, the culprit is in the house. I’m sure they either know about the murder, or are directly involved.”

  Brent squinted as he studied Cassie’s face. Then he sighed and ran up the walkway. “Stay there,” he called.

  Lexy wrapped her arms around Cassie. “You look cold.”

  “I’m freezing.” Cassie shivered. “How angry was he?”

  “Pretty angry.”

  “At least I didn’t get you caught in the middl
e this time.”

  Lexy let go. “No, but it would’ve directly affected me if you’d gotten hurt. It’s not only your own life you’re messing with, you know.”

  “I know. I’m sorry! I don’t mean to—”

  “But you’re using the mystery to silence everything else going on in your mind.”

  Cassie furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you like adventure. And I think you’re afraid and avoiding a potential adventure with Daniel. So, you’re trying to fill the void with a different adventure instead.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Cassie waved her hand. “I want to help, that’s all. I feel for this poor woman. My mind has romanticized this house and its history for so many years; I just want to set it right. And I’m not afraid of a relationship with Daniel. And one has nothing to do with the other.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Lexy put her hand on her hip. “Sure.”

  The girls stood in silence until the front door slammed. “No one’s in there, Cassie.” Brent jogged down the steps.

  “Are you sure? There has to be. Did you check the attic? There are lots of places to hide.”

  “I’m sure. But since you’re here, let’s go in and take another look around. Show me exactly what happened.”

  The girls followed Brent back into the house as Cassie explained the incident.

  “The front door lock just broke?” Brent asked. “Are you sure you didn’t help it?

  “Honest.” Cassie held her hand up as if swearing an oath. “I only jiggled it. And once I was inside, I noticed the investigators had touched everything in the house, and I got curious. I wanted to see what was in the attic. When I got to the second floor, I heard a noise and went into the bedroom to see what it was.”

  Lexy swatted Cassie’s arm. “You went to the noise? Are you nuts?”

  Cassie shrugged. “But there was no one there. And when I heard a squirrel skitter across the hall inside the ceiling, I figured that was the noise I’d heard. But when I went downstairs, someone threw that vase at my head.” She pointed to the remnants.

  Brent moved a few pieces with the toe of his boot. “Are you sure you didn’t bump the table and knock it down?”