A Mew to a Kill by Leighann Dobbs Page A

blue flowered shirt and old lady jeans. She lifted a Styrofoam cup. “We brought coffee for you.”
    I trotted to the front, joining them on the sofas. Hattie leaned in front of Cordelia, who was wearing a matching flowered shirt in pink and identical old lady jeans, to slide the cup across the coffee table toward me.  
    “Any news on the goings-on across the street?” Bing asked.
    I shook my head, peeling back the plastic tab on the cover of the Styrofoam cup and taking a sip. “Nope. What’s the word on the grapevine?” I raised my brows at Hattie and Cordelia.
    Like most small towns, Mystic Notch had a rather active grapevine and my regulars, especially the Deering sisters, were right in the middle of it.
    “We haven’t heard a thing.” Hattie looked disappointed. “We were hoping you might know something.”
    “Unfortunately, I don’t know anything about the fire or Paisley’s death. But I did find out something interesting last night. Did you know Paisley had a brother?”
    “A brother?” Hattie turned to look at Cordelia. “Did you know that, Sister?”
    Cordelia shook her head. “No. Paisley hasn’t been in town that long, so I don’t know her family. She’s a newcomer.”
    Bing’s bushy brows knit together. “Wait a minute. I think I remember meeting her brother at the veterans’ meeting. Ken is his name. He was in the army. As I recall, he was affected terribly by the war. PTSD. I don’t know much about him, though. He didn’t seem like he was going to stick around town.”
    “Elspeth said he was in the homeless shelter.” My heart clenched. I hated myself for suspecting him. He was a military veteran, for crying out loud.
    Cordelia’s forehead wrinkled. “I think I remember something about him and that fire last year. The one during the Founder’s Day parade. I think he was a suspect for a while, but it turned out it wasn’t him.”
    Bing nodded. “That’s right. He worked at the lumberyard and was chummy with Amanda.”
    “You don’t think the brother had something to do with it, do you?” Josiah asked as if he could read my mind. “What motive would he have? Unless maybe he likes to light fires.”
    “I don’t know. That brings up a good question. What was the motive?”
    Hattie glanced over at the photography store. “Well, George Witt might have had a motive. If he wanted to keep Paisley quiet.”
    “That’s right. We heard you tell Gus you saw George and Paisley arguing and … well …” Cordelia’s cheeks flushed. “Practically everyone in town knows there was something going on between them.”
    “And let’s not forget about Neil Lane,” Bing added. “He might have had a motive.”
    “Yeah, money,” Josiah said. “He needs it.”
    “How do you know that?” I wondered.
    “I was in the post office yesterday playing checkers with Minot Ring and Neil pulled up in that clunker of his. It was making some strange noises, grinding and then making a cha-chug. Sounded like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I was surprised he could start it up when he left. Anyway, I reckon he needs money to fix that car. That twenty thousand dollar grand prize would probably be like a million to him.”
    I made a mental note to talk to Pepper and see if she wanted to pay a little visit to Neil Lane. “How did he seem? What was he doing there?”
    “He was checking his post office box.” Josiah twisted his lips. “He’s kind of an odd duck, anyway, but now that you mention it, he did seem right upset. He dropped the post office box key several times and was cussing like crazy about it. Out of sorts, even for him.”
    “I’d watch out for him, Willa,” Cordelia warned. “He might be dangerous.”
    “Yeah, don’t go getting any ideas about confronting him,” Hattie said.
    I sipped my coffee to avoid replying.  
    Bing stood and tossed his cup into the trash. “Well, until we know a little bit more about what really happened and how Paisley died, we’re just speculating. We