A Very Catty Murder Read online

Two luminescent eyes blinked at her from the end of the hall near the old clunker of an elevator. Sonja felt a chill run up and down her spine--an all too familiar chill. Sonja only ever felt it when a ghost was nearby.

  Could it be that some previously dormant spirit of the manor was at work? In any case, Sonja knew that something paranormal was afoot.

  Chapter 9

  Instinctively, Sonja looked around the hallway area directly around her, checking each doorway and dark corner. Could it really be possible that there was a ghost? The uncomfortable chill still running along her back told her that, yes, there was a ghost--or some form of spiritual entity--nearby.

  Had the animal sensed it and brought Sonja to face whatever it was? She'd heard of dogs being sensitive to spirits. Were cats instinctively paranormal creatures as well?

  Could it be that when they stared off into space, they were seeing a ghost?

  Sonja's gaze fell on the pair of glowing cat's eyes again just as they disappeared.

  "Hey, wait," she called out, running down the hall and realizing the cat had retreated to the basement. The sound of its little collar jingled down into the inky blackness below. Sonja clenched her jaw. "You would sneak down there right now."

  The last thing she wanted was to get lost in the deepest bowels of the house running after some cat just when a spirit was around. Most ghosts and specters were harmless and only sought out Sonja when they needed help. However, she'd had enough run-ins with malicious and even dangerous spirits to know it was wise to keep up her guard.

  She cursed herself for not being more proactive with her spiritual gifts. She wondered if she should wear something like a crucifix or pentagram of protection at all times to help ward off any unseen villains who might come after her.

  Of course, she'd not had a run in with a truly devilish entity for over a year. Perhaps she'd grown too complacent when it came to the dark elements of the paranormal constantly at play around them. Not to mention, Haunted Falls seemed like a magnet for the strange.

  Taking a deep breath, she reached around the corner and flipped on the stairway's light. Even with the dull yellow wall lamp glowing, it could only show her the wooden steps that vanished into the black beyond.

  She had never liked the basement of the manor, which included the kitchen and old servant's quarters. It was creepy, and she avoided it whenever possible, especially after a murder had occurred there.

  It looked like she didn't have a choice this time.

  Walking down, she hurriedly found the switch to the room below and turned it on. The kitchen, with its stone walls and flooring, stood barren of life. Old copper pots and cast-iron pans hung from metal rungs on the far wall near the large stove and old brick oven.

  "Kitty?" she called out, looking around the room. Besides her own voice and the pad of her bare feet on the cold floor, only silence seemed to be her companion. "Come on," she groaned, not wanting to be down there any longer than she needed to be.

  For a moment she wondered if the cat had got into the walk-in freezer--which Sonja knew had a secret passage inside of it that led upstairs. She'd stumbled upon it by accident one night right around Thanksgiving. She wondered just how many other secrets the house held. Belinda believed there were many. She just hoped the cat didn't end up in some dank crevice or hidden room that she couldn't get to.

  A loud clatter echoed through the room, and Sonja squealed loudly in surprise, spinning around to face the direction of the noise. The wooden pantry door next to the brick oven sat slightly ajar. "Are you in there, cat?" she demanded to know, tiptoeing up to the door.

  Taking a deep breath, she made her attack. Throwing open the door and crying out like a warrior ready to overcome a foe.

  The black cat sat on one of the shelves against the back wall. It didn't seem fazed at all by Sonja's battle cry. It hadn't jumped or darted out under her legs. It simply sat there bobbing its tail back and forth nonchalantly as if it owned the place.

  "You're a little brat, you know that?" she teased the animal.

  Sighing, she bent down and picked up the stock pot the animal had knocked down off the shelf. There was only one open space and Sonja shoved it into the hole. As she did, she heard something click into place, like a lock latching.

  "What was that?" she whispered but was quickly answered by a horrifying grinding noise--like gears clanking against one another.

  The cat meowed satisfactorily.

  Sonja instantly straightened up, her eyes widening as the stone wall behind the back row of shelves slid backward and opened to reveal a dark space beyond. "Holy smoke," she whispered, realizing she'd just found another secret passageway of sorts.

  Without another sound, the cat jumped through the shelves and into the dark.

  "Hold on," Sonja called after it, frantically making a clatter as she pushed the pots aside on the lower shelves. Crouching low and getting on her knees, she crawled through the hole she had made in the pots and stepped out into the passage.

  As she stood up, she realized there was a shelf cut into the stone and a flashlight sat there as if waiting for her. Strangely, there didn't appear to be the same layer of dust over the light as the rest of the shelf, floor, and walls.

  Grabbing the light, she flipped it on, revealing a long and skinny stone corridor stretching out in front of her. The ceiling was arched like the catacombs of an old church, and at the end of the hall was a wooden door.

  "What's down here?" she whispered, watching as the cat trotted nonchalantly forward. Attempting to think of the manor's design, she realized the passage might just pass out under the property's fence--maybe even under the forested area on the other side. She followed, the light bobbing up and down as she walked. Reaching the door, she placed her hand on the wrought iron handle and pushed it open.

  The wood scraped the stone floor as she stepped into the room beyond, no bigger than a backyard tool shed might be.

  In the center of the room was a square wooden table, and the walls seemed to be lined with shelves that were bolted and mounted there. At first, Sonja thought it was completely empty, but as the beam of her flashlight hit one corner, she saw that there was an array of ancient looking books collected in the space--as if a librarian had been in the midst of shelving and quit to go home.

  Taking a step closer, Sonja let out a low and quiet gasp. The titles were vaguely familiar.

  They were all books on the occult, ghosts, and witchcraft. Some of them seemed to be duplicates of tomes that had burned up in the local library fire. It seemed that someone had been collecting them down here.

  A soft meow came from the floor.

  Sonja turned back toward the animal, narrowing the light on it. The all too familiar chill danced on her spine and she knew something supernatural was afoot. "What are you?" she whispered to the cat.

  Chapter 10

  A hammering noise woke Sonja from her already restless sleep. Sitting bolt upright, she saw that the black cat also perked its head up from where it had nestled itself against her the night before. After finding the secret room, Sonja was left with an overwhelming number of questions--most important of them being what sort of supernatural properties the little animal that had taken her to it possessed.

  It had been too much to deal with in the middle of the night, so Sonja had gone to bed, deciding to check it out in the morning.

  Of course, she hadn't expected to be so rudely awakened at an early hour by someone pounding on the cottage's front door. She glanced over at the clock and saw that it was only six. "Who the heck is that at this time of the morning?"

  "I don't know," Frank told her, already up and out of bed and pulling a pair of jeans. "It could be the detective."

  "The detective? How did he get onto the estate?" Sonja wondered, desperately trying to remember if she'd closed and latched the gate the evening before.

  "I gave him our gate code in case he needed to come to see me for any reason."

  A touch of anger flushed Sonja's cheeks. "Wh
y the heck did you do that?" she demanded to know.

  "Sweetie, I'm sorry. I didn't want to have to leave the new cat alone if you were off somewhere, so I told him to either call or meet me here."

  "You can't do that without asking me first."

  "I don't have time to discuss this right now," he said, pulling his white t-shirt on.

  "I'm the caretaker here. Belinda trusts me to keep this place safe and protected. How can I do that if you're handing out the gate code without consulting me first?"

  "I'm sorry," he said quickly, more focused on getting downstairs than listening to his wife's concerns. With that, he disappeared out of the room.

  Leaping out of the bed, Sonja quickly followed him, going down the two flights of wooden steps to the main floor just as the front door was being opened.

  She made sure to stay hidden in the living room, so the detective wouldn't see her in her pajamas.

  "Detective, what can I do for you?" Frank asked immediately.

  Peeking around the corner, Sonja could see that there were two other officers behind the state detective. He had a flushed expression and a hint of urgency in the eyes.

  "Sheriff Thompson, we have a bit of a situation."

  "A situation?" he asked.

  "Yes. I need you to come with us."

  Upon hearing this, Sonja forgot about her worries of being seen in her sleep clothes and walked out into the entry hall. "Excuse me, but what's going on?"

  The detective held up a hand to silence her. It felt condescending. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we need to borrow your husband."

  Sonja put her hands on her hips. "Borrow him? Do you mean you're going to arrest him?" she demanded. After all, what else could they need him for? They were banging on the door at six in the morning and then insisting he accompany them.

  The detective's brow furrowed in irritation. "We aren't making an arrest, we assure you. Please just stay out of it."

  "Stay out of it? He's my husband, for crying out loud. This is my home and you're intruding."

  "Sonj' calm down," Frank urged her as if he didn't want to be embarrassed in front of the state police.

  "Calm down? I'd just like to know why they're stealing my husband away at this hour of the morning with no notice." Could it be true? Were they really arresting Frank for the murder of his ex-girlfriend?

  "It's fine, Sonja. I'll call when I can and let you know what's happening," he told her while grabbing his keys and wallet from the pegboard and shelf on the wall.

  "I assure you, ma'am, you'll have your husband back before you know it," the detective told her, impatiently motioning for Frank to step outside with him. As the door shut, Sonja felt a brush against her leg. The animal cried out with an almost human-sounding meow.

  She looked down at the little cat and said, "How come I don't believe him?"

  *

  Despite the events of the day before as well as the stress of not knowing what was happening with her husband, Sonja still had to go into the diner for work that day. She'd taken the previous two days off and couldn't leave Alison alone again.

  She was tempted to call in and have another look at the hidden room under the manor but knew that it wasn't a wise decision. She would have to set aside some time to figure out what exactly the room meant. Had those books always been down there? Did Belinda know about the room?

  Surely, she didn't. Otherwise, she would have shown it to Sonja after losing all the occult books in the library fire.

  Also, how had the cat known about the room? Was it just a fluke or was the animal supernaturally sensitive and able to find such secrets?

  Trying not to think too hard about the hidden room or the murder case at hand, Sonja had some breakfast, got dressed, and headed to work.

  "Didn't sleep well last night?" were the first words out of Alison's mouth when Sonja entered the kitchen. She stood over the griddle where eggs and bacon were frying.

  She rolled her eyes at her friend. "You have no idea." Hanging her purse on the coat rack near the backdoor, she slipped on one of her many aprons and headed to the counter to start making her tasty seasonal waffles.

  "I heard about what happened with Frank's ex and whatnot."

  Sonja sighed as she got out a fresh bag of flour, the sugar, eggs, and milk. "I'm sure the whole town has heard by now. That's not the kind of news that the gossips pass up--especially when one of the biggest gossipers in town was present when she arrived."

  "Your mom?"

  "That's right." Sonja poured the full bag of flour into their industrial mixer. Most mornings, she tried to make her batter by hand in small batches. On days like today, she was happy she'd invested in some larger appliances.

  "So, who do you think did it?" Ally asked, knowing her best friend all too well. Sonja was the queen of amateur sleuthing in town. At first, she'd just come off as meddlesome, but now many of the town's members respected her and her ability to think clearly in a difficult situation.

  If only she could think things through right now.

  "Honestly? I don't know. However, it seems like the state police are trying to pin it on Frank."

  Alison flipped the bacon in front of her. "You're kidding me."

  "I wish I was. They showed up at our door at six this morning and demanded he come with them. The detective claimed it wasn't an arrest."

  "And you still came into work?" Ally scolded her.

  "I know, I know, but how could I leave you to run the show alone again? I took the last two days off."

  "I would have managed."

  "The point is, I have no idea who else would want to kill her. I mean, Jameson has full access to the house because he is renting it, but what possible reason would he have for killing the woman?"

  Ally shrugged, plating the sunny side up eggs on a plate with the bacon. "Maybe he thought she was a robber and killed her on accident."

  Sonja shook her head as she added in the sugar, baking powder, and salt to the bowl. She turned on the mixer. "She died of an allergic reaction," she yelled over the whir of machinery.

  Alison cocked one eyebrow. "Then how do the police even know it's murder? It could have been an accident."

  "Frank thinks otherwise, which is why he's in this situation right now." Seeing that the dry ingredients were blended well, she added the milk and butter. "Besides, why was her body in Frank's garage? That's the biggest question."

  Setting the plate in the window and ringing the bell, "order up," Alison walked over and shut off the mixer.

  "Hey," Sonja protested.

  "I think it's time for you to get out there and do a little investigating of your own," she insisted.

  "What about you?"

  "I can call Alex's dad in to help. He'd been chomping at the bit for a few more shifts a week. I guess he can't stand sitting at home, no matter how poor his health is."

  "Are you sure Vic will be okay?" Sonja asked, thinking of their beloved grill cook who they'd had to cut down on shifts for to preserve his health.

  "He's been doing much better this week and I think feeling useful will do him do some good."

  Sonja pursed her lips, pushing them to one side in a motion of hesitation.

  Ally rolled her eyes. "Go on. Get out of here. Go figure out who killed this woman." She gave Sonja a little shove toward the door.

  When Alison got an idea in her head, there would be no arguing.

  "Thanks," Sonja said, removing the apron and grabbing her purse.

  Chapter 11

  Sonja's first and most important stop was to return to the scene of the crime--where Sheba's body had been found. If she was lucky, she could catch Jameson and question him while also poking around the scene.

  She only hoped that the police had finished their preliminary walk through and no longer had the area cordoned off.

  Driving the diner's white catering van, which was painted with pictures of waffles on the sides as advertisement wherever she went, she parked on the street in front of the house. Much t
o her satisfaction, the only other vehicle around was Jameson's. Perhaps today was his day off and he was home.

  While he was the only likely suspect on her list, she still couldn't imagine him being the murderer. After all, why go to the trouble of making a murder look like an accident, only to stash the body in the very house where you lived.

  It didn't make sense.

  Not to mention, Jameson had a hearty grasp of the law thanks to his work in politics. Sonja had a hard time imagining him doing something so stupid and foolish.

  Of course, many murderers weren't in their right mind. It was why they always made at least one mistake--something that gave them away.

  Walking up to the front door, she knocked. Upbeat pop music seemed to be playing from somewhere in the house, but it stopped.

  The shuffle of someone inside was followed by the call of, "Just a minute." The door opened and there stood Jameson in a white tank top and nylon exercise shorts. Sweat poured from his forehead. "Hey, good morning, Sonja," he said cheerfully.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your workout," she said, feeling bad for bothering him on his day off. She had to admit, it was odd seeing the man in any other clothes than the suit she was accustomed to.

  "It's no trouble at all. I needed a break. Come on in," he offered, stepping inside and walking back toward the kitchen without too much worry about the woman at his door. Clearly, he trusted her. If he was the killer, he was very comfortable in this situation.

  Did he know Frank had gone in with the police that same morning?

  Letting the thought go, Sonja stepped inside and shut the door. Compared to the warm morning, it was nice a cool inside, maybe even a little too cold. She figured Jameson had turned the air conditioning up to stay cool during his workout.

  "You know, I was grateful to that state detective fellow. He worked fast and efficiently to make sure I could stay here last night. I wasn't looking forward to having to find a hotel if they needed the whole house."

  "I bet."