Poisoned Pin: A Cozy Mystery (Brenna Battle Book 2) (11 page)

“The killer is Moira. And there’s nothing the police can do about it, since she’s been dead since 1890. You can read all about Moira’s tragic end in
Bonney Queen of the Bay
. As we’re about to discover, new material is mounting daily for my upcoming book on the house itself. In
House of Spirits
, we will explore the after-lives of Reiner House’s early residents. Spirits like Julia, a distant relative of the current owners, who died in a tragic kitchen fire at a tender young age, and of course, Moira, whose life is a tale of tragedy upon tragedy.”

There was a silence as Jacinda paused. So that’s who Julia was! A relative of Harvey’s. I shivered. Wow. For a second there, Miss Ghost Buster even had me at the mercy of the heebie-jeebies.

“Got it!” the girl said. “Should we try to get some shots through the windows next?”

“Play it back for me first, Avery. I want to make sure I got it right.”

“You nailed it, Cinda.”

“You just don’t want to shoot it again,” Jacinda snapped. “Give me the phone.”

Now was my chance. I gently let the branch I’d been holding swish back into place, then inched backward. I rose slightly, my knees creaking. Over the bush and the brick side of the stair case, I could see they had their backs turned. They’d wandered a bit further away from my hidey hole, and were focused on the phone, watching the footage. I got up and dashed around the side of the house, out of sight, then found a narrow opening between two rose bushes and maneuvered my way to the sidewalk. Then I started to jog slowly, back toward the front of the house. Jacinda, apparently not convinced she’d nailed it, stood in the same spot, with a glowering Avery readying the camera a few feet back.

“Is that shadow still there?” Jacinda said.

“There wasn’t a shadow,” Avery grumbled.

“Hey!” I smiled big and waved. “Jacinda. What are you guys doing here?” I did my best to sound surprised and curious instead of, you know, nosy and suspicious.

“Oh, hello, Brenna! This is my assistant, Avery.” Jacinda smiled and waved back, a twist of beaded bracelets dangling from her wrist.

She seemed genuinely pleased to see me there. Maybe she was hoping to milk some juicier details about Derek’s death out of me—on camera.
So
not happening. I kept the smile on and hoped it didn’t look plastered.

“Are you guys filming something?”

“Yes, we’ll have this episode edited and ready to upload within a couple of hours. I have thousands of followers online, and they’ll help spread the word. People deserve to know the truth.”

And apparently they also deserve to know about your book
, I thought. She sure didn’t miss a chance to plug it. But then, who was I to look down on someone for trying to make a living? She was just promoting her business. I knew how it felt, going door to door, hoping for “customers,” trying to make it.

“Did you know the police just arrested Harvey, Derek Thompson’s uncle, for his murder?” Jacinda said.

Yes? No? Should I play dumb?
Quick! Think!
I couldn’t make up my mind, but another, more pressing—to me, anyway—question did pop into my head. “How’d you find that out?”

“I’ve developed several sources in town. I’ve spent so much time in and out of Bonney Bay the last few years, doing research. Friends know to call me with tips. I’m so glad I was right here in town for this one.”

If Jacinda knew that right before Harvey was arrested, he and I had nearly been killed by a falling chandelier, she’d really flip. I’d be the new star of her next show. I wanted none of that. No, thanks.

“Well,” I said, “good luck with that.” And I said my good-byes and headed home, trying to make sense of it all.

17

Sammi actually raised her hand and said, “Later” to the other girls as they left practice that night. I wouldn’t go so far as to say she was getting friendly, but she was really coming along.

I headed for the fridge and grabbed a soda. Those kids seriously wore me out. All the excitement earlier, my concern for Harvey, it all came sagging back on me as the girls walked out the door. All except Sammi. Her gi top and belt were off, wadded up under her arm. She walked over to me and said, “So, are you on the case or what?”

I eyed her warily. “What case?”

“Yeah, what case?” Blythe said.

I cringed. I hadn’t had a chance to tell Blythe yet about Harvey’s arrest. I was kind of waiting to see if Seattle Channel Three bothered to pick up the story. Wasn’t it enough that she already knew I’d befriended a crazy old man, gone into his house with him all alone, then had him come in here and scare the children, without her knowing he was a murder suspect too? And then there was the chandelier, the near demise of her favorite big sister. Okay, her only sister. Could I get away with leaving that part out?

Sammi crossed her arms and gave me that
Come on, really?
look. “You solved Ellison Baxter’s murder. Are you going to solve Derek Thompson’s too?”

So, she was finally admitting I was right about all the crimes surrounding Ellison Baxter’s murder? My investigating had landed some people very close to Sammi behind bars. Awaiting trial, to be more precise. But the evidence was pretty clear and undeniable. They were going down.

Blythe crinkled her nose. “As far as the police are concerned, Derek died of a heart attack.”

Sammi snorted. “And as far as the police were concerned, you killed Ellison Baxter. Anyway, I saw it on the news right before I came to class. The second murder in Bonney Bay in two weeks. Dan Deering’s probably standing in front of Reiner House right now.”

I groaned out loud a the thought of the relentless middle-aged reporter from Seattle. I’d had enough of that guy to last me a lifetime. So had my sister. “Blythe,” I said, “Apparently Derek Thompson was poisoned.”

“Apparently?”

“W—” I glanced at Sammi. Better not sound too friendly in front of her. “Officer Riggins told me. I ran into him earlier. When I went to check on Harvey.”

“But why do they suspect Harvey?”

“Probably because he had easy access to Derek’s food, since they lived in the same house. That is, if Derek actually ingested the poison.”

“Did he?”

I’d given in to my curiosity and concern and texted Riggins in between classes. “I don’t know,” I said. “Riggins won’t tell me anything about the case. Just that Harvey’s fine. He has his own cell. They’re keeping him there at least for today, but … ”

“They’re going to take him to Coastal State,” Sammi said. “They’ll drug him up and then we’ll never find out who really did it!”

“We?” I asked.

“What’s Coastal State?” said Blythe.

“And how do you know that?” I demanded.

“Just a guess. That’s what they do with people like Harvey when they think they’re dangerous.” Sammi ignored my first question and went for Blythe’s. “It’s that bunch of huge brick buildings you pass right before you get to the edge of Bonney Bay. It’s a mental hospital. For criminals and dangerous people.”

Oh, no. Riggins had said something about a mental health facility being a possibility for Harvey. I hadn’t considered it might be an enormous brick fortress housing the criminally insane. I’d pictured a cheery little clinic where he might get a helpful diagnosis, and later, eyes shining with lucidity, enlighten us all about what had happened to Derek. By someone else’s hand, please God.

“We have to do something. We can’t have Harvey committed,” I said.

“Exactly!” Sammi agreed.

“By
we
, I meant Blythe and me.”

Sammi scrunched up her face at me and rolled her eyes. She re-wadded her gi and left in a huff. I hoped she wasn’t going to try anything stupid.

***

I filled Blythe in on my day in between sips of ramen noodle broth. We both sat on the couch in our little apartment above the dojo. Blythe sampled a spoonful of greek yogurt and frowned at me. She did not approve of me keeping my very eventful morning—and afternoon—from her, even though I’d assured her I just hadn’t had time to get into it, since we’d had to get ready to teach class when I got back.

Blythe grabbed her laptop and found Jacinda’s first book online. It took place at Blackberry Inn, and like the book about Moira and the upcoming book about Reiner House, it featured spirits.

We discovered that Blackberry Inn was owned by a couple, Dawn and Pete Feldman. We couldn’t find any references online to the supposed hauntings at Blackberry Inn until Jacinda’s first book came out. She had used the basic framework of real events, real people, to form a story about the original owners, but stories about the ghosts inhabiting the inn were never mentioned until a few months before its publication.

“Coincidence?” Blythe said.

I sucked up a noodle. “Ha! Not likely. What if she and the Feldmans, the owners of Blackberry Inn, were in cahoots?”

“Were the owners friends of hers? Did they pay her to write a book that took place at their Inn?”

“But then, why write about Moira next?” I said.

“Because Reiner House wasn’t an inn at the time! It still isn’t an inn, is it?”

“No. Harvey gives people tours sometimes, but he never collected money. Harvey just wanted to share his ‘friends’ with other people. People who believed him.”

“That makes sense. Everyone wants to be believed and understood.”

“Derek just recently got the legal power to make the necessary renovations and convert Reiner House back into what he saw as its glory days as an inn. So, at the time the book came out, Reiner House wasn’t a threat at all. It was a draw, to Bonney Bay. Moira’s story helped bring guests to Blackberry Inn.”

“But then, Derek came along with his new plans. They killed him before he could carry them out,” Blythe speculated.

“Wouldn’t Harvey have said something if the owners of Blackberry Inn had come by right before Derek died?”

“Probably. I don’t think he’s so far gone in the head that he wouldn’t have remembered that bit. But Derek could’ve visited them or met with them somewhere else. They could’ve had coffee or a snack.”

“Why would they get together at all?”

“Just because Harvey hated them, that doesn’t mean Derek wasn’t friendly with them,” Blythe pointed out.

“It might’ve even put them on the same side, as far as Derek was concerned. Maybe the competition was friendly to Derek.”

“But then, that blows a hole in our whole theory about the Feldmans orchestrating his death to eliminate a competitor,” Blythe said.

I sighed. “You’re right. And then there’s the fact that Derek was against the whole ghost-tourist thing anyway. Wouldn’t that have turned him off to the Feldmans, if they were encouraging, or even paying Jacinda Peters to promote ghost stories? Wait! Harvey told me the Feldmans created a whole website debunking the Reiner House stories.”

“Let’s find it!” Blythe said.

We found the site easily enough, but finding its creators wasn’t so easy. They were completely anonymous, using the nickname
Spirit Busters
.

“I wonder if Harvey actually saw this site himself,” I said.

“Yes, me too. And if not, who told him about it?”

“Someone could’ve told him the Feldmans were behind it.”

“So,” Blythe said, “we have the Feldmans’ site, promoting their inn and referencing Jacinda’s book about its friendly spirits, and then we have another, anonymous site debunking the Reiner House myths, but saying nothing about Blackberry Inn.”

“We’ve got to find out more about the Feldmans somehow.”

“But first, we need to worry about tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” I dropped my fork. “Oh, no. I forgot about tomorrow.”

“We need to work on your Fitness Day speech.”

Yes, the Fitness Day speech. Tomorrow I was going to have to face ghosts of a different sort.

18

The next day, Harvey was still sitting in the Bonney Bay Jail, and I was pacing in a prison of my own, awaiting a punishment I most certainly did not deserve.
 

“They’re coming. I can hear them coming.” I tried not to whine. Oh, this was worse than standing in a stadium tunnel in Brazil, waiting for my name to be announced so I could enter, alongside my opponent—Yara, adored by her judo-crazy fans as a national hero. Worse than hearing nothing but the thunderous chants of her name in my ears. Almost, but not quite as bad as the moment I realized I’d broken her arm in front of that mass of pulsing adulation. Which soon turned to near-murderous rage.

Okay, so this fell short of fearing for my life, or even standing on top of the podium as the Pan American Champion while the whole stadium turned their backs on my flag and drowned out the Star Spangled Banner with the weight of their disgusted silence. I think it’s fair to say that Yara and I both really, really wished she’d just tapped out of that arm bar instead of fighting it literally to the breaking point. For totally different reasons, but still.

“Brenna, you can do this,” Blythe said, for the millionth time.

I continued to pace the teachers’ lounge, right off the multipurpose room, where I’d be speaking to the students of Cherry Orchard Elementary. The chattering and laughter and shuffling of feet were unmistakable. Class by class, the kids were filing in, probably being instructed to sit cross-legged on the floor, to scoot in toward the front to make room for the other classes that were still on their way.

“Are you sure we can’t just go out there, take turns throwing each other around a few times, and toss the kids some flyers?” I said.

Blythe plunked her styrofoam cup of bad coffee into the garbage. “Brenna. The kids want to hear what you have to say for Fitness Day.”

“They want to hear what an Olympian has to say about being a Champion. They want to be inspired. I am not a champion, and I’m not the least bit inspirational.”

Blythe opened her mouth, no doubt to say, “You inspire me,” or something ridiculous like that. I just shook my head and held my palm out to silence her before she even got a syllable out. “Just give me a minute, okay?”

“Right!” Blythe said cheerfully.
 
“You get in your zone. I’ll just be right over here, in the corner. Not saying a word.” She took a seat at a far table, picked up a newsletter that was lying there, and began to read, as if the cafeteria schedule was the most engrossing piece of literature she’d ever encountered.