Farmers Market Fatality Page 17
Kat stared at the Muggs' residence. Chills rambled across each goose bump. She knew Miss Jacqui was sitting on the edge of her guest bed, and Nurse Carrie leaned against the doorframe. Each set of eyes analyzed Kat's every move.
Kat did not work well under observation. The attention drove her batty. She imagined drapes moving in the upstairs windows of the Muggs' home. Sometimes she envisioned shadows rushing past the waving shades. She wished the other ladies would leave her alone. She needed to think not to imagine things. Kat opened her mouth to insist they vacated the area when she noticed a section of crime scene tape tattered and limping along with the breeze.
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Ivy played a board game with Jess and Eloise. Eden, the tiny dictator of the group, instructed the boys through a make-believe battle of dragons versus hobbits. Flora snoozed. Her head throbbed. A shoulder rub from Ever eased the tension but did not erase it. Even in sleep, she felt a thrumming and squeezing.
Eloise sneezed, waking her resting mother. "Oh, baby, are you getting sick?"
Eloise counted colored blocks and moved her token before answering, "I don't think so. It feels like allergies."
"From what?" Her daughter shrugged and returned to her game. Ivy offered the girl a tissue. Jess fetched her friend a glass of cold water. "Aww, thank you, guys. That should help you, Elli."
Eden burst through the front door, slamming it on the boys that chased her. She laughed in a mad frenzy. Her victory cackle cut off with dramatic potency. "What stinks?" Eden's nose wrinkled and she mocked gagging on the welcome mat.
"I don't smell anything," Flora said.
Ivy took a deep inhale and wrinkled her face as Eden had done. "There is this weird smell. Apples, cinnamon, and plastic."
"The candle." Flora pointed toward the hearth.
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Jacqui and Carrie bantered at the kitchen table. Carrie did her utmost to calm the older woman's nerves. But nothing worked. Amid another round of guilt weaving and comfort dodging, Kat slinked from the house. She stretched, taking in a gulp of summer air and huffing it out violently. Just a few moments longer, then she decided to brave the wrath of Ethan Everett. Whether he liked it or not, she was going inside the Muggs' house. Her choice sat firmly in her mind, but her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
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Ivy seared her fingerprints on the glass of Flora's Victor E. Candle. She rinsed them in a stream of cold tap water and fetched an oven mitt before trying again.
The red, white, and blue wax married into an awkward violet slush. The puddle sloshed around, bouncing a wilted plastic bag on its steamy waves. Ivy set the entire mess into the kitchen sink. Frigid steel clashed with boiling wax. The candle case popped, sending small pieces of glass shooting around the stainless steel basin.
"Are you alright?" Flora, quick to her feet, stood beside Ivy. She investigated the teen's hands. Other than a small splattering of wax on the girl's wrist, Ivy was fine. "What's that?" Flora gestured toward the bag in her sink. It oozed pastel powder streams down the drain.
"I'm pretty sure it's the cause of our headaches."
Flora took a wooden spoon from a decorative canister beside her sink. With the handle, she prodded the mess and fished out the offensive plastic sack.
"I have a weird feeling about this. Get your phone." She commanded Ivy.
"Already on it." Ivy snapped photo after photo, from varying angles, on her cellphone. Jess and Eloise huddled behind Ivy and Flora. "It might be better if the girls went outside, for a while, as we air out the room."
Flora went over to Enoch's resting place and scooped him into her arms. "Let's all go outside."
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Kat fished the key out from under Cordelia's planter and stabbed the lock. The door opened without her turning it. Kat's inner chicken pecked at her conscience. She ignored it and took a solid, intentional step inside before shutting the door behind her.
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Emily did her best not to cry. She knew, from experience, monsters in human flesh loved when their prey crumbled. Emily refused to whimper even when fear pulsed and pushed at her throat. A few quiet angry teardrops slid down her cheek and crusted in their tracks. The blindfold her captor haphazardly tied to her head hid her tiny weakness. She was thankful for it.
No one knew where she was. Lucas might lend a clue or two to the police if anyone thought to ask him. Ivy would be frantic and call Mr. Everett. It would be too little too late. There wasn't an escape for her. Not this time. She knew it. But there was no way she was going to let anyone else in on her thoughts. She would defy them to the end. She would fight and claw and bite until there was nothing left to fight for. Ivy's Grandmother, Miss Annie, once relayed odd but useful information to her girls over cookies and milk.
"Leave evidence! Always! Whether you've been taken captive or you're storming a city. In matters of faith or matters of the flesh. Fight to the end and always leave evidence behind!"
Emily never figured she'd need Miss Annie's words. But the memory of them gave her spirit a lift. Though her habit was rusty, she prayed. "Please don't let Ivy think this was her fault."
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Kat tiptoed through the Muggs' living room. The stillness of the house crept under her skin and gave her the willies. Pressure spiraled up her spine. Someone else was in the house. She could feel them. Kat believed Cordelia returned to her house on a drug-induced whim, but the fact that Cordelia was a friend didn't calm her nerves. Something dark lingered around the once happy home. She couldn't shake it. It followed her from room to room.
If Cordelia was in the house, should Kat call out and announce her presence? Her guts squeezed at the thought. What if it wasn't Cordelia? Or worse, what if someone was with Cordelia? Kat's imagination assaulted her senses. She shoved past the late-night movie thriller scenes that played with every settling creak of the hardwood floors. Even though every ounce of common sense begged her to retreat, Kat ascended the shadowy staircase.
Chapter 34
Although disturbed, driving through the streets of Honey Pot was a breeze for Lydia Everett. She'd lived in the small town for decades. Her car practically drove itself to church and back. Lydia checked her phone when a scream startled Lydia out of the comfort of her vehicle. Someone needed help. However, there was no one around.
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Kat entered the master bedroom. She tiptoed with trepidation. Entering anyone else's bedroom felt like entering the inner chamber of a crypt, to Kat. It was sacred in its privacy.
The air was stale. Though it was deserted, a single candle flickered on Cordelia's vanity. Its light bounced from the mirror and rebounded off each wall. The room hummed with an afternoon glow and twanged with the faint scent of apple pie. Kat didn't like knowing someone graced the Muggs' master bedroom before her.
Her nerves stampeded from her stomach to her throat and herded there. Kat swallowed but could not shake the eeriness off. She was looking for Cordelia, and it was probably Cordelia who lit the candle. The idea didn't calm her. Cordelia wasn't acting like herself. A confrontation with Cordelia would be ugly, even if Kat's intentions were pure.
Lydia would snoop around and gather clues. Kat forced herself to do the same. She didn't have the foggiest idea what she was looking for, but she paced around the room. Too afraid to open closets or peek under the bed, she sifted through paperwork on dressers and nightstands. Any stealthier work would need to wait for her to have a sister spy present.
Brave and bewildered, Kat talked herself into opening a dresser drawer. Her conscience riddled her with a million reasons to halt her nosy neighboring. She tried not to listen.
Cordelia's dresser was huge. Wider than it was tall, it hosted eight drawers four on each half. Kat inspected the furniture. Jewelry boxes and perfume bottles decorated the right side of the dresser. When Kat pulled open the top drawer, she found bras, panties, and tiny sachets of lavender tucked between neatly stacked piles.
On the left side of the dresser, a si
mple wooden box and a framed wedding photo were the only ornaments. A peek inside the top drawer revealed little more than some paperwork and an antique pocket watch box. The second and third drawers were empty save for a cologne bottle. The fourth was a mess of papers and photographs.
Every few seconds, Kat spun to face the empty doorway in reflex. She felt the darkness watching her back and couldn't adjust to the stillness. Besides, the candle lighter might return any minute. That thought pounced upon Kat's last nerve, and she shivered with fear. She turned to leave and noticed a very masculine robe laid out on the bed. "Probably Mario's," Kat soothed herself with a long breath and determined to leave the entire top floor alone. She'd sit on the couch and call Lydia. Then, with her partner in crime on the phone, she'd call out for Cordelia.
She took one step onto the staircase when a gut-wrenching shriek soared from the garage. It echoed and clanged off every picture frame and wall decoration. Kat lurched and stumbled over a couple of stairs. Regaining her footing, she followed the scream. She forgot her former fear and hurried to help whoever was hollering.
Moments later she stood in the Muggs' garage. A wide-eyed Cordelia greeted her, cradling Muffin in her arms. The dog's throat heaved and huffed.
"He's choking!" Cordelia dropped to the concrete and reclined the stunned animal on the cold floor. She kept a trembling hand on his belly. "Help me! Help."
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Lydia burst in through the same door as Kat. She witnessed a blubbering Cordelia bracing Muffin's jaw open and a disgusted but sympathetic Kat, digging around in the small dog's throat. Lydia nearly yacked in her own. If Cordelia's face had been any less desperate, she might have.
Cordelia wailed and simpered. She held the dog fast but kept glancing in panic around the garage. Lydia squeezed around the back of Cordelia's truck slipping in muddy tracks. She squatted next to Kat.
"What is he choking on?"
Kat shrugged. "Don't know, but my nails keep flicking it. Maybe I can pinch it, stab it, between two nails." More moaning squeezed from Cordelia's mouth. She choked and gagged in sympathetic gasps mirroring Muffin's anguish and anxiety. "I – I got it!" One more tug from Kat and the blockage dislodged. It went flying across the room. With a splatter that spun Lydia's stomach in disgust, it smacked Mario's workbench and slid onto the cement. Muffin would live.
Surprising her visitors, Cordelia did not cradle and kiss her family pet. She tossed a confused Muffin into Lydia's arms and launched toward the offensive throat wad. Kat instinctively smelled her fingers and retched. She approached the workbench, aiming to wash off in the sink beside it.
Cordelia huddled around the expectorant. She growled at Kat. Lydia approached slowly. Cordelia's mental state was a serious concern since the discovery of Mario's body. Neither friend knew what to expect from the fresh widow.
"It's fine, Cordelia. Kat's washing her hands and Muffin is breathing normally. You're okay. Take a moment. You've been through a lot." Lydia reached a steady hand toward Cordelia's shoulder. The crazed lady shuddered and pulled away, dropping her prize. Lydia's eyes flashed on the projectile. Muffin snorted at the offensive chew toy. Again, Lydia nearly tossed her cookies. Instead, she breathed through her mouth and charged Kat with an urgent chore. "Go to the kitchen and bring back a plastic baggie."
Kat shut off the water and wiped her semi-sterile hands along the sides of her jeans. She didn't stop for an explanation. She obeyed.
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Miss Jacqui sat in the front seat of Ethan's squad car. She twisted her torso to continue speaking with Cordelia. Cordelia sat in the back, head slumped and sputtering tears all over the front of her blouse.
"A finger?" Kat repeated after Lydia. "The missing finger?" Lydia shrugged.
"That's my guess."
"How? Why?"
Lydia ignored Kat and watched her husband work the garage. Ethan and Gus lingered at the large box freezer, hesitant to crack the lid. Lydia didn't want to see the inside of that cooler, either.
A glance inside and Ethan shut the lid with a delicate hand. Lydia read her husband's somber expression. Without a doubt, she knew, the family freezer was once Mario Muggs' cryogenic casket. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her chest.
Miss Jacqui tapped a tangerine nail against the car window. She crooked her finger at Lydia. Lydia droned over to her with Kat in tow. Slight cracking of the window gave sound to Miss Jacqui's moving lips. Still, her words were inaudible.
"Huh?"
"I said! Get... my... stool." Miss Jacqui's tone wasn't unpleasant. Her request was awkward, given the drama unwrapping around her neighbor's drive." My stool."
Lydia nodded to silence her friend. Kat stayed behind, and Lydia hurried over to Mr. Victor's trash barrels. She felt old. Her legs and feet lumbered along with her exhausted mind. She squatted to retrieve her bounty. Every sinew popped and then argued with her to desist her irrational movements. Instead, Lydia forced a grin across her lips and stretched. Toe pointed at the sky and torso bent over her toe; her body resisted before releasing. Lydia closed her eyes and allowed herself a single second of sleep.
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Emily could almost see her or what she thought was her. Her friend stood only feet away. Hope coursed through her stomach like a long swig of cold sweet tea. It alerted every nerve and organ as it shot through her body. Once at her stomach, it landed hard and bitter, making her head swish and her mind spin. What good was hope when its nemesis bit swiftly at her heels?
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Kat helped shut the garage door and watched the town police drive away. Lydia stood, slack-jawed and spaced out, next to her. Carrie, Cordelia's nurse, spoke with Miss Jacqui on the lawn across the street. Kat couldn't hear what they were saying. Miss Jacqui held her stool in her one good hand and gestured using the other's elbow.
"I don't know what to do next?" Lydia exhaled rather than spoke. She slid onto the hard cement and stared into the grill of her car. Ethan made her leave it there until his team finished with gathering evidence. She examined the tread of her tires without meaning or thought.
Kat plonked beside her. "About what?"
"Huh? Oh, Joe...Cordelia... everything." Lydia tossed her head from side to side and squeezed her eyes shut tight. The world didn't go away with the darkness. It waited for her to return.
Kat remained still, watching her friend. Lydia was always so stable. Why was she freaking out? Disappointment settled on Kat's jaw. "Nope!"
Lydia's eyes shot open wide. "Huh?"
"Nope. I'm not allowing this. Yes, you're tired. You're confused, and you're probably scared. We all are. Now, put on your big girl britches. You have a mystery to solve, and you're going to solve it!"
"Excuse me?" Lydia's arms bowed at her hips, elbows out in defiance.
"Nope." Kat met her friend's gaze with equally fierce tenacity. Lydia’s cheeks puffed, and her breath whistled through her pursed lips. Kat didn't back down.
Still, eye to eye, Lydia's face blazed with the sparkle of discovery. Kat echoed her goofy smile and waited for the news. "When did it rain last?" Kat's eyes rolled up in concentration.
"Yesterday, I think. The Blotter called it a Sunrise Sprinkle. Why? Did you solve it?"
"Nope. Just curious. Hand me your phone." Kat watched Lydia click her phone camera at the mud." I'm sending this to Flora, and then I'm going back into Cordelia's." Kat clapped three times and sprinted to standing.
"What is Ethan going to say?"
Lydia eased herself to her feet and brushed concrete dust from her bum. "He doesn't care what we do in the house? Just the garage?"
"He said that?"
"He didn't not say that." Kat's eyebrow peaked. She emitted a low giggle and went to the front door. Lydia creaked along behind her.
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Ivy could not stop pacing. Flora's kitchen rug shot static through Ivy's socked feet. She sent sparks through Baby Scout's skin at the slightest motherly touch. The baby yowled and arched in startl
ed panic. Ivy lifted Scout from her seat and cupped the small downy head in the crook of her neck. Scout burbled complaints in baby speech until she soothed.
There'd been no news. Ivy's spine bubbled. A knock from Flora's front door liquefied Ivy's kneecaps and she sunk onto the arm of the couch. Gus stood flat-faced, awaiting entry to the Brandes home.
After sending the children away, both mothers swayed in the kitchen. Their babies nestled in their arms; they watched Gus poke at the strange plastic sack. They'd done the same thing only an hour before.
Gus didn't speak. He hmphed and sighed. His eyebrows squished against his eyelids, and his tongue clicked against his front teeth. Without a single syllable, he slid the bag off the kitchen countertop and into a large plastic baggie. He then shoved the remaining bits of candle and glass into a separate container and made his way back to the door.
"Wait," Ivy cried out. "Is there any news?"
Gus answered with a flat glance toward Ivy's eyes. He didn't like bearing bad news and hated being questioned about things he couldn't divulge. In the case of the missing Emily Prior, he didn't know enough to form an answer. He and Ethan scoured the hospital and questioned all the staff. An officer from Ashton was viewing security shots. There wasn't a clue to the whereabouts of Ivy's best friend. With all the new happenings in Honey Pot, Gus worried over when he'd next get the chance to join the search. For the moment, the citizens of his favorite town were unaware the girl was missing. Only a select few were privy to the information.
Ivy's face despaired. She felt Gus' silence sealed Emily's fate. If Ivy didn't need to help Flora, she'd be out there searching on her own. Flora escorted Gus from the house. Their conversation about the candle became white noise to Ivy's thoughts. She'd forgotten to call Lydia. Lydia would search for Emily.
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The makeshift squad entered the Muggs' master bedroom. Kat shivered at the stale air. "I've been through their drawers."
Lydia stonewalled in the middle of the room. A tangy twang of spice scented perfume sailed into her face. Her nose stung. Her eyes opened and searched for her senses' assailant.