Probable Paws

Book 5: Mystic Notch Cozy Mystery Series

by Leighann Dobbs

Genres: Ghost; Mystery; Animal Cozy Mysteries; Amateur Sleuth; Cozy Mystery; Paranormal Cozy Mysteries; Female Sleuths

Synopsis

Middle-aged bookstore owner Willa Chance is often haunted by ghosts who want her to do their bidding. Usually it involves the nasty business of bringing their killer to justice, so when the ghost of Adelaide Hamilton asks her to find an old recipe book and give it to Elspeth Whipple, it seems like an easy job.

Except Willa's search for the book has her crossing the path of Sheriff Eddie Striker one too many times for comfort. He's acting almost as if he's investigating a murder, but Adelaide died of natural causes. Didn't she?

When it turns out Adelaide's entire family had means, motive, opportunity, Willa's search becomes dangerous, and she finds herself matching wits with a cold-blooded killer that wants the same thing she does.

Luckily, Willa's cat Pandora is looking out for her and enlists the aid of the other cats of Mystic Notch who will stop at nothing to ensure Willa's safety as well as the recovery of the book ... even if it takes a little bit of magic.

Release date: April 5, 2016

Publisher: Leighann Dobbs Publishing

Print pages: 284

Sample

Chapter 1

 

 

The somber ambience inside Blake’s Funeral Home was a stark contrast to the cheerful spring day outside. Depressing strains of soft music floated out from unseen speakers hidden somewhere in the muted-green wallpapered walls. The cloying smell of dozens of floral arrangements wafted over to tickle my nose, bringing me just to the brink of sneezing.

 

I glanced longingly at the window. The view was obscured by sheer white drapes, but I knew a bright, sunny day was waiting out there. My attention drifted from the window to the casket in the front of the room.

 

I hadn’t known the deceased well. Adelaide Hamilton had been a friend of my grandmother’s, and since Gram had died a few years back, I figured it was only proper for me to attend and pay my respects in her absence. Little had I known that would take up a good part of the morning.

 

I fidgeted in the hard metal folding chair, resisting the urge to check my watch.

 

How much longer would this go on?

 

Up front, Reverend Stone, dressed in a black suit and gray tie, droned on about Adelaide Hamilton, who lay in peaceful repose just behind him. His eulogy included a painfully long account of the elderly woman’s life, including how she’d been born in and lived her whole life in our small town of Mystic Notch, nestled in the white mountains of New Hampshire, and had acted as a pillar of society and volunteered at various places, including the historical society and as a school crossing guard.

 

I decided to amuse myself by watching the family in the front row. Not that a grieving family should be amusing to watch, but this one didn’t seem very sad. Probably because Adelaide had been an old lady—her death likely wasn’t unexpected. Maybe even merciful if she was ill. Not to mention that they each seemed to have something more important on their minds than the reverend’s monotonous eulogy.

 

The first three seats on the left side of the front row were occupied by three adults whom I figured to be Adelaide’s children. They looked to be in their mid- to late-fifties—a little older than me. Gram had been older than Adelaide, and Adelaide hadn’t had kids until later in life, so her children would be about that age. I remembered that Adelaide had one son and one daughter. The second woman must have been the daughter-in-law.

 

The dark-haired woman on the end, who I assumed was her daughter, Josie, sat limply in her seat. Poured in, almost as lifeless as her mother in the casket. I couldn’t tell if she’d fallen asleep during the sermon or was on some kind of tranquilizer. Maybe she needed drugs to ease the pain of her mother’s death.

 

Next to her sat a platinum blonde who I assumed was the daughter-in-law, Lisa. I vaguely remembered something about the son’s first wife passing away. He must have remarried and, if the cautious looks he kept darting toward the blonde were any indication, she was his second wife. She was dressed in designer clothes. A big honking diamond glinted on her left finger, matched in brightness only by the stones that circled her wrist and possibly the shiny, round bald spot on the back of her husband’s head. As I watched, she leaned over and whispered in the husband’s ear then jabbed a red-tipped finger toward the boy on the other side of him, causing the husband to react like a cowed dog, his head ducking and nodding as he elbowed the boy in the ribs.

 

The boy, who had been slouched in his chair, sat up a little straighter and glared across his father at the blonde. He looked to be late teens or early twenties. A grandson? He appeared uncomfortable in his suit, constantly tugging the too short sleeves down over his wrists. He had a cell phone in his hand, which he glanced down at every so often, but his thumbs busily worked the keypad even when he wasn’t looking at it.

 

Next to him sat two girls who I judged to be in their early twenties. I’d come to the wake late and hadn’t had a chance to talk to the family, but I’d noticed these two girls right off because of their striking similarities and differences. They had nearly identical facial features, but where one girl was light and bubbly, the other was dark and sullen. The bubbly girl had long mink-colored hair that flowed past her shoulders. The other’s was the same color but cropped short. The girls must have been the twin granddaughters I’d heard my grandmother talk about.

 

Twins ran in the Hamiltons’ family, which brought me to the last family member—Adelaide’s twin sister, Marion. She was seated in a wheelchair at the very end of the row. They’d removed a chair to make room, but it stuck out into the aisle. She was wrapped in a blond-mink coat despite the warm spring day, and she glowered at the casket like a debutant glowering at bird poop that had just splattered her gown. Or maybe her cranky demeanor just made it look that way. Maybe her glower was genuine grief at her sister’s passing. I knew a lot about Adelaide from Gram, as they had been close friends, but I knew practically nothing about Marion. Gram had never mentioned her except in passing.

 

The dull droning of the reverend’s voice had almost lulled me to sleep when I heard a rustle from somewhere behind me. Which was odd, because I was seated in the back row. Maybe someone had come in late and didn’t want to make a spectacle of themselves by slipping into one of the empty chairs.

 

I looked over my shoulder for the rude latecomer. No one was there.

 

“Pssst…”

 

I looked again, a jolt of concern running through me as I noticed a swirling mist peeking out from the entrance into the next room. I ignored it. It was probably just glare from the sun, or a mist from the deodorizer plugs I’d seen scattered around, or maybe someone was smoking in the bathroom and the smoke had drifted out.

 

“Hey … Willa. Willa Chance.”

 

Shoot. I couldn’t ignore my own name. Worse, it seemed I was the only one that had heard it. That, combined with the mist, could mean only one thing. A ghost.

 

I half turned in my seat, ignoring the dirty look from the lady beside me. Yep. The swirling mist had formed into a human shape. A tiny old lady. I glanced back up front, rising slightly in my seat to get a glimpse into the casket. No surprise there, the ghost was newly deceased Adelaide Hamilton.

 

“Hey, what are you, blind? I’m talking to you.”

 

I had experience with ghosts and knew there was no point in ignoring them. She’d just continue to pester me until I let her have her say, so I slunk out of my seat and headed into the next room as discreetly as possible.

 

“What took you so long?” Adelaide, or should I say Adelaide’s ghost, glared at me as I pushed her farther into the empty room.

 

I glanced back to make sure I was out of sight and earshot. “Hi, Adelaide. What can I do for you?” I knew she wanted something. They always did.

 

“’Bout time you came here.” She peered around me, craning her neck to see into the other room. “How’s it going in there? Am I getting a good send-off?”

 

“Reverend Stone is being very … thorough.”

 

Adelaide snorted. “I doubt my loving relatives had any part in that.”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

Adelaide misted and swirled anxiously. “I think most of them might be pretty happy I’m gone … one of them may even have had a hand in it.”

 

“You think one of your relatives killed you, and you want me to find out which one.” That didn’t surprise me. Ghosts only ever contacted me when they had unfinished business, and usually that unfinished business included seeing their killer brought to justice.

 

Why they picked on me or how they even knew to come to me, I had no idea. I only knew that a couple of years ago, after a near-fatal accident, they started coming, and they would not leave me alone until I helped them. I was sure Adelaide would be no different.

 

“Find out which one killed me? No. That’s not what I want you to help with.”

 

“Really?” That did surprise me. I’d braced myself for a long investigation where I would have to muster up all my skills as a former crime journalist, but if Adelaide didn’t want me to find her killer, maybe I would get off easy.

 

“I need you to find something for me.” Adelaide craned her neck to look into the other room again, her face turning concerned. I was vaguely aware that the reverend’s voice was no longer droning. The service must be drawing to a close, which meant I didn’t have much time to talk to Adelaide. It wouldn’t do to have people come wandering in and catch me talking to thin air.

 

“Money?” I prompted.

 

Adelaide shook her head. “No. Betty’s recipes.”

 

“Recipes?” I wondered if ghosts could be senile.

 

Adelaide made an odd face. “Surely your grandmother mentioned Betty’s recipes?” Now it was my turn to make an odd face. I’d forgotten, but now that Adelaide reminded me, my grandmother had mentioned Betty’s recipes.

 

In her will of all places. She’d left explicit instructions that I make sure Betty’s recipes go to her neighbor and old friend Elspeth Whipple. I’d looked all over for that darn recipe book but never found it.

 

“Oh, so you had the recipes,” I said. “Why would your family kill you over that?”

 

Adelaide gave an agitated swirl just as I sensed someone in the doorway behind me. I turned to see one of the granddaughters. The dark, sullen one.

 

“Who are you talking to?” she demanded, her brow creased as she looked into the room beyond me.

 

“Who, me? No one. I was just looking for the bathroom.”

 

She continued to glare at me suspiciously as I pushed past her to exit the room. “I guess it must be out here.”

 

I glanced back over my shoulder as I walked away down the hall. The girl still stared at me, but Adelaide’s ghost was gone. Darn it! I’d hoped she’d stick around long enough to at least tell me where that recipe book was, but I didn’t see any sign of her as I elbowed my way through the crowd and out to my car.

 

I didn’t worry about it, though. I knew Adelaide would come back sooner or later. Once a ghost had its sights set on me doing something for them, they tended to bug me until they were satisfied. In the past, that had been extremely annoying, but this one seemed like a slam dunk.

 

The only thing Adelaide wanted was for me to find some old recipe book. How hard could that be?