A Country Gift Shop Collection: Three cosy crime novels that will keep you guessing!

“Look,” she said hurriedly, “we still don’t know for sure it has anything to do with Celine’s disappearance. Mortimer might have been killed by his ex, in an argument over money, or by somebody else who had a grudge against him. Right now I’m going to the police station for the latest news, then back to the store. Why don’t you stop by later this afternoon? You can have a look around the place and we can talk.”

Maybe Michael would be out of jail then and Diane would not have to be bothered with the news he was locked up. She might take it hard.

“Fine with me,” Diane said. She was still shaking. “I think I’m going for a drive to just clear my head.”

“Be careful!” Vicky pressed. “Wouldn’t you rather come back to town with me?”

Diane shook her head. “I need to think this over. And I don’t want to leave my car here. I just need to get away, you know.” She got into her sports car, the dog into the passenger seat, and backed out, then drove off at a snail’s pace.

Vicky shook her head. She wasn’t sure if Diane, in her state of mind, should be on the road by herself. Then again she had offered her a lift, which Diane had refused to accept.

Vicky chewed her bottom lip. Maybe she shouldn’t have told Diane anything about Mortimer’s death. But how could she not have told her after Diane had revealed her shock about a call offering evidence in Celine’s old case? That call fitted perfectly with the presence of Diane’s number on Mortimer’s list.

And Diane would have learned about Mortimer’s death sooner or later. In fact, it was odd Ralph Sellers didn’t seem to know a thing about it. It had been on the local news, right?

Then again Ralph might not have connected Mortimer’s death with the interest in Celine’s disappearance. After all, he had no way of knowing Mortimer had stolen something from Perkins’ barn.

Vicky closed her eyes a moment to refocus.

Whether it had been the right decision or not to tell Diane, it was done now. She had to trust that Diane would be careful driving while she was upset. In the meantime, Vicky had her errand to run. At the police station.

It was now more important than ever to secure the other evidence Mortimer Gill might have had.

If only Cash didn’t guess what they were up to and forbid them from going near Mortimer’s place.

In the bright sunshine the sheriff’s station looked much friendlier than it had done when they had arrived there the previous evening. Vicky had been shocked by the discovery of Mortimer’s dead body and the anticipation of being questioned by the police, like she was a suspect. Cash had meant it when he had said he could hold them overnight.

And what are you doing now? a voice whispered in the back of her head. Keeping evidence from the investigating officers. You might be accused of obstruction of justice. Give those sheets to Cash and be done with it.

No.

I made Marge a promise not to do it yet.

Clutching her purse with the incriminating sheets inside, Vicky shook off her doubts and walked in, just as one of the hardware store brothers came out.

Both had grizzled beards and always wore faded coveralls over checkered shirts, so Vicky could never determine which one was which. He halted and looked her over. “Coming too to ask about the heirs?”

“Heirs?” Vicky echoed.

The man leaned back on his heels. “Mortimer had a lot of unpaid bills at our store. We were too lenient on him, I guess, always giving him more credit. Felt kind of sorry for him the way his ex-wife was treating him, smearing his name about those anonymous letters. But now that he’s dead, we do want our money. Assuming there is anything left.”

Vicky nodded. She thought of Claire’s revelation that morning that Mortimer had ordered a brand-new van to transport his birds in. Maybe he had been caught up in some shady activity that had nothing to do with Celine’s disappearance? “I see. And could Cash tell you who the heir or heirs are?”

“No. He says it can’t be Gwenda because they were divorced and it can’t be their kids, because they didn’t have any, so it might be Mortimer’s parents or his siblings. If there aren’t any, it could be some cousin. Don’t know how I can contact them, but Cash said he’d find out for me.”

The old man shrugged. “I bet he is overworked as it is. Looking into that fire and now the murder.” He leaned over to her. “I heard that the fire was lit. Incendiary device. That’s what they say. Sheriff will drop off a list at my store for us to check if we sold any of the parts of it.”

He grimaced. “I sure hope we didn’t. Never thought that anything like arson would happen in our town.”

He turned away toward his old van. Vicky called a quick good-bye after him and hurried in. That incendiary device could be worthwhile, giving some indication as to the arsonist’s identity: technical skill, knowledge of inflammable materials.

The idea of heirs was also worthwhile to pursue. Maybe somebody had known Mortimer had money and had killed him knowing the inheritance would then go to him or her?

But the most likely candidate for that kind of monetary motive, Gwenda, could not inherit. After all, Mortimer and she had divorced and they didn’t have children who might inherit, with Gwenda then overseeing the money as long as they were minors. No, it didn’t seem like Gwenda could profit financially off Mortimer’s death.

Behind the desk a deputy scribbled down a few words on a piece of paper, while Cash stood in the back at an overfull desk, grumbling about something. As he spotted her, he turned even redder in the face and jumped at the desk. “Did you happen to see Gwenda today? We’ve been calling her all morning, but she doesn’t respond. She could be lying dead in her apartment, for all I know.”

“No, I didn’t see her.” Vicky had even rung the bell herself before Marge and she had left, but no luck. “My mother mentioned nobody had seen her even though people had tried to contact her to ask how she feels about Mortimer’s death.”

Cash grimaced, but before he could comment on the amount of gossip flying around Glen Cove on a daily basis and her mother’s part in it, Vicky continued for distraction, “But I suppose Everett Baker has an extra key to Gwenda’s apartment. In case you want to look inside and make sure?”

“I don’t have another choice. But if there is some innocent reason for her absence, I bet she will be livid when she finds out I’ve been inside her place. I can already hear her screeching. Then again I’d rather have her screech at me than find out she will never screech again.”

Cash gestured at his deputy. “Call Baker’s offices. Let me know right away if the key to Gwenda’s apartment is there for me to pick up.”

He refocused on Vicky. “What can I do for you?”

“I actually came uh…” she cleared her throat “…to talk about Mortimer’s predator birds. None of them are missing?”

Cash seemed surprised. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“The newspaper said something about the value of trained predator birds. And Mortimer had just bought a new snowy owl a few weeks ago, Marge told me. Her boys went there to see it. I thought that maybe when you checked out the place for evidence, you had found tracks around the cages? Footprints indicating somebody had walked around there to try and get inside?”

“There were plenty of footprints all right. It had rained hard the other day and there was mud. But Mortimer walked there himself with rubber boots on, my men looked around, the whole technical team that heads out to a murder scene. I guess if the killer left prints, they got trampled later. And that the birds were the target is just talk. People looking for motive. I don’t think anything was stolen. Of course it’s such a pigsty it’s hard to tell.”

“Someone has to take care of the birds now that Mortimer is dead. They can’t get their own food and water.”

“You’re right. I hadn’t thought about that yet.” Cash frowned. “I will have to make a few calls, find out who looked after them when Mortimer was out of town. I guess those birds are not like dogs or cats who accept any temporary keeper, huh, like my deputy?”

Vicky shook her head emphatically. “I heard they can even attack someone they don’t know.”

Cash exhaled. “Great. Another headache.”

“Maybe not.” Vicky hoped she didn’t sound too eager. “Marge Fisher’s husband did take care of the birds on occasion, when Mortimer was away. She told me recently. Kevin grew up with predator birds and knows his stuff. He could do it, just until it’s clear what will happen with the birds. If you OK it, of course. He doesn’t want any trouble with the police, going someplace where he shouldn’t.”

“Smart man,” Cash said pointedly. Then he smiled again. “Thanks. That seems like a sensible solution. You see, we need a female mind around here. Someone who thinks about practical things like feeding abandoned birds instead of all those procedural headaches.”

Vicky felt kind of guilty for her hidden agenda and clutched the purse with the incriminating sheets even tighter. She actually held something that had survived the fire at Perkins’s barn. Whether it was connected with Mortimer’s death or not she should hand it over to the police.

But she had agreed with Marge that she wouldn’t share with Cash right now. Not until they were sure he wasn’t involved somehow.

So there was no way back. She cleared her throat. “Can I see Michael, maybe talk to him for just a few minutes?”

Cash pursed his lips. “No. I want to let him sweat. No visitors unless they’ve got a very good reason.”

Vicky shrugged. She didn’t want to press him, as she didn’t want to draw attention to the exact relationship between Michael and her. She was sort of confused by her attraction to him and the realization he was still hurting over Celine. Maybe Michael would never be able to really care for another woman as long as the old case was unsolved?

“Look…” Cash lifted his hands. “I don’t want to sugarcoat things for you, Vicky. Michael could be in big trouble. He might even be implicated again for Celine’s disappearance. People might conclude he killed her and silenced Mortimer because Mortimer could prove his guilt.”