This piqued the cat’s interest. “They do make a mighty fine lobster roll at the Little Dog Diner. Mighty fine. Shall we have another before heading home?”
“Not the time,” I scolded him. “So you smell the food that Mags was eating just before she was taken?”
Paisley nodded and then stumbled slightly to the side, apparently needing to get used to being out of the costume just as she’d needed to get used to being in it. “Yeah, I smell it and it's going this way.” She spun in a full circle and then ran down the alley and turned.
“Let's go,” I said, shoving Octo-Cat into Charles’s arms because I knew he could run faster and easier with the extra burden than I could. I also didn’t want to take the chance my cat would disappear if left unsupervised.
Nothing mattered other than getting to my cousin.
Well, at least not to three of the four members of our little search committee.
We all jogged.
The Chihuahua kept moving fast but occasionally lapped us while yelling high-pitched words of encouragement. “Mommy, you can do it! You're a good runner! Yes, you are! You're a good girl! Come on, Mommy!”
While I found her cheerleading cute, it wasn’t entirely helpful. At last, when my legs had begun to feel a bit prickly from all the unplanned movement in my tight jeans, Paisley stopped, let out a low growl, and stood with her head angled slightly toward the ground.
Charles and I slowed.
“Well, that was terrible,” Octo-Cat complained. “Let's not do that again. Shall we?”
I ignored him and followed Paisley's line of sight with both my eyes and my feet.
“Do you see, Mommy?” the Chihuahua asked, impossibly keeping perfectly still despite the obvious desire to wag her tail hard. “This spot smells a lot like cousin Mags.”
Charles and I both bent down to examine the fallen items that were partially covered in snow.
“That's because these are Mags's things,” I revealed with a little gasp. I lifted her fuzzy white beret, discarded cell phone, and the shiny silver menorah she'd only just purchased that morning with shaky hands.
“Why did she leave them here?” Paisley asked with a little whine.
“I don't think she wanted to.” I stowed all three items in my shoulder bag. “No. I don't think she wanted to,” I repeated.
“So what do we do now?” Octo-Cat asked.
At the same time, Charles said, “Well, this is concrete evidence, and that's always a great thing to have.”
“But what do we do now?” I parroted Octo-Cat’s question.
“Why, we call in the cavalry, of course,” came his response.
I loved Charles’s ability to stay calm and level-headed, no matter how hard the going got. Even my cat had become fully invested in pursuing our case, his complaints coming out fewer and farther between. We were now working as one, and that made us unstoppable.
Mags, hang on. We’re coming!
Chapter Fourteen
Charles called Nan while I called my mom.
She picked up on the first ring. “Hey, honey. Did you find Mags?”
“Not yet,” I answered sadly. “But we have a small lead. Can you and Dad meet us at the alley off Third Street? You know the one right next to the pancake place?”
“Yes, we’re coming!” she promised before hanging up.
Charles wrapped both arms around me and mumbled into my hair. “It's going to be okay. We’ll find her. Your Nan is on the way right now, and she said something about bringing along a friend to help with the search.”
“That will be Mr. Milton,” I said, my voice coming out cold.
“Who’s that? I don't think I’ve met him before.”
“Neither had I. Not until today. It just seems weird, him hanging around with all that's going on.”
“Well, maybe he really likes your Nan and wants to help in order to make her happy,” Charles offered with shrug as he let me go.
I shook my head, unwilling to buy that, especially given his reaction earlier. “Yeah, or maybe he's the murderer we're all looking for.”
Charles tutted. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“Yes. No… I don't know. It just seems weird to me.”
“Well, if you're not sure about him, then I'm not either. Maybe we can try asking him some questions when he arrives.”
“Maybe.”
“Are you talking about Nan's new friend?” Octavius asked, curling his upper lip in disgust. At least we agreed on this one. “That guy doesn't have the missing parts to kill somebody.”
“The missing parts?” I asked in confusion.
“Yeah, you know. The ones that boy kittens have before they go to the doctor and—”
“I got it!” I rushed to cut him off before he could add to that description.
“Still, he's rather suspicious to me,” my tabby added. “Did you see a picture of him on Mr. Gable's camera when you looked?”
“The camera! That's right,” I said, slapping my forehead. We’d totally forgotten to look through the images. “I’ll just call Mr. Gable and see if he's willing to let us borrow that real quick.”
Although the committee head was too busy to talk for long, he revealed that he’d handed the camera over to the police before begging off the call.
“See,” Charles said, keeping his arms tight around me while Octo-Cat sat in the snow silently. “Someone's looking into it. We have lots of people helping find Mags.”
“To be fair, I don't think Mr. Milton took Mags, but he could be the murderer. I don't know. It's just strange that a guy we've never met before has suddenly become so involved in our business.”
Charles didn't say anything until Mom and Dad arrived a few minutes later.
They hugged Charles hello.
“That was quick,” he said.
“We weren’t too far away. Just over at the ice sculpture garden with the Officer Bouchard and the others. You'll be happy to know that they have the entire Dewdrop Springs and Misty Harbor police departments both out looking for Mags while the Glendale crew continues with the double homicide.”
“Isn't that great?” Dad said with his signature oversized grin. “The more, the merrier. Also the more, the faster we’ll find her. And we will find her, Angie.”
I forced a smile. “Yeah, that's what everyone keeps saying. I sure hope you're all right.”
“Faith. You gotta have it,” Dad said, his smile stretching even wider.
“Listen,” I said, dropping my voice low, making sure only the group of us could hear. “Before Nan comes by, I just wanted to say I don't trust that new friend she's taking everywhere with her.”
“Are you saying you suspect Mr. Milton?” Mom asked, her voice hitching unnaturally high at the end of that question.
“I'm saying I don't know. But until we rule him out as a suspect, maybe. I mean, I don't know who he is. I don't know how well Nan knows him. Do you guys know anything about him?”
Mom ran her fingers through her hair as she thought. “I have met him once or twice while covering stories out on Caraway Island. He seems like a reasonably decent man.”
Caraway Island. That was the one part of Blueberry Bay I seldom went. Not just because it required a ferry, but also because they didn't have much to offer other than beautiful scenery. And while ocean views and well-groomed beaches were perfectly nice, we all had those in our small corner of coastal Maine.
“Is there something wrong with Caraway Island?” Charles asked, hooking an eyebrow in my direction. He’d become such a big part of my life since moving here about a year and a half ago that I sometimes forgot he originally hailed from California. He didn't know all the little quirks of living in Glendale yet.
“For one thing, the Caraway Island Cavaliers were our high school's biggest rival,” I said, ticking off the first reason on my index finger, then raising a second finger as I continued with my list. “For another, folks from Glendale often visit Misty Harbor, Cooper’s Cove, and Dewdrop Springs, and they all come over here, too. Those on the island mostly keep to themselves, like they’re too good for the rest of us or something.”