Meowsical Death Read online

  Meowsical Death

  A Hazel Hart Cozy Mystery Two

  Louise Lynn

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  Chapter 1

  "It’s picture day, Auntie Hazy!" Ruth, Hazel Hart’s eight-year-old niece, cried from somewhere down the hall.

  Anthony Ray, her black cat and trusty sidekick, wisely stayed perched on the bathroom counter as Hazel applied a touch of mauve lipstick and frowned at her reflection. "Please don’t call me that at your school."

  She could imagine the whole fourth grade chanting ‘Auntie Hazy’ at her like some kind of ritual, and it sent a shiver up her spine. At thirty-five, Hazel's own school days were far behind her, but memories of that unfortunate nickname stuck to her like glue.

  "Ruth, you are not wearing a tutu to picture day. Go put on the outfit I laid out for you," Esther said in an exasperated voice. She was Ruth's mother and Hazel's sister, younger by two years. She popped her head around the bathroom doorframe and eyed Hazel's choice of outfits. "You look professional," she said though there was a hint of something in her voice that Hazel wasn't sure she liked.

  "Is it the leggings?" she asked and looked down at herself. They were floral, covered in dark-red roses with twisting green leaves. They reminded her of summer, which was still a long way off in Cedar Valley, California, where they lived.

  She had paired them with a knee-length black dress, her gray coat, and a green beret. Her slick black boots completed the outfit.

  "No, the leggings are fine. And I don't think Mrs. Jeffries is going to care much," she said.

  "At least she’s better than the principal when we were there," Hazel said and felt her expression sour at that memory.

  Esther snorted. "Tell me about it. I got in trouble for getting angry at Brian Nolan for calling me ‘Esturd’ on more than one occasion."

  Hazel patted her sister's shoulder. "Well, no one still calls you that." She smiled as sweetly as she could.

  A slight flush rose to Esther's cheeks and she swept her waist length auburn hair over her shoulder. "In our defense, Hazy is a cute nickname."

  ‘Cute?’ Hazel's big toe, but she bit back the urge to say that as Ruth danced out of her bedroom and did an impromptu cartwheel. "I hate the outfit you picked out. It's boring." She pouted to emphasize her point and put her hands on her hips.

  Like her deceased father, Ruth was a good head taller than most of the other kids her age. Hazel remembered exactly what that was like. "Why don't you guys come up with a compromise? Like mom used to do?" Hazel said and nudged her sister's arm.

  Esther's mouth thinned into a line—her signature mom look—but she let out a heavy sigh. "Speaking of—"

  "Oh, aren’t you a doll, my little Ruthie," their mom said as she fluttered into the hallway. If anything, her outfit was more colorful than Ruth's own.

  Ruth had on a pair of rainbow leggings, a yellow tutu, and a bright orange sweatshirt with some sort of cartoon rabbit on the front.

  Their mother wore various shades of pastel in an impossible number of gauzy layers, from blouse to tunic to skirt. Hazel had no idea where she bought clothes like that since none of the local shops seemed to sell them. Perhaps she had them all saved from their childhood. Or, even more unlikely, she somehow figured out how to buy clothes on the Internet.

  Hazel looked at her watch and frowned. "Oh no, we’re going to be late if we don't hurry."

  Esther let out a heavy sigh. "Now you know what life is like every morning," she said and rubbed her temples. She was already done up for opening her café, and she'd been up late baking for it as well. Something about an early morning at the Lodge for a special breakfast that was all very hush-hush. Even Esther claimed she had no idea what it was for. But she was happy they offered to pay twice her asking price for the specialty muffins.

  Hazel understood that. If a client really wanted you to go above and beyond, doubling the price didn't hurt matters in the least.

  Hazel peeked into Ruth's room and saw the plaid pinafore on the bed and knew exactly why Ruth didn't want to wear it. She remembered her mother trying to force both of them into something similar for a Christmas picture, and how she instantly stripped it off afterward since it was itchy, though she didn't remember why or how.

  "How about she wears a denim skirt? The rest of it's not that bad."

  Esther wrinkled her nose but nodded. "Fine. Why should I even bother? Put on your jean skirt – the knee-length one – and let’s go. We don't want to make Auntie Hazel late on her first day as the school photographer," Esther said and gave Hazel a sunny smile.

  Hazel took a deep breath and nodded. She’d signed the contract last summer to be the official school photographer around all of Lake Celeste, the large alpine lake that the small town of Cedar Valley nestled against. But this was her first official job as such. There weren't many towns or schools around Lake Celeste, only ten in total counting all the elementary, middle, and high schools, but she felt the same kind of fluttering nerves in her stomach she had on her own school picture days. Or the same sort of nerves she got when starting a new job.

  Though, unlike her old gig as a photojournalist and forensic photographer in Los Angeles, this wouldn't have anything to do with dead bodies.

  With a heavy sigh, Ruth switched the yellow tutu for a denim skirt, and they all bustled out into two separate vehicles. To Hazel surprise, her mom trudged toward her truck with Ruth while Esther went for her own SUV. "You're not going to your shop, mom?" Hazel asked.

  Her mom shook her head and smiled sweetly. "Oh no, Tess has everything taken care of today, and Esther’s no fun. She’s going up to the Lodge all by herself. She already said I was explicitly banned from following her. So, I might as well go see my precious little jewel of a granddaughter have her fourth-grade pictures taken," she said and bopped Ruth on the nose.

  Ruth giggled and climbed into the backseat of the truck.

  Hazel sighed, and let Anthony Ray, in his sweater and harness, jump in before she did. He settled on her mom's lap and began to purr.

  "You’re bringing the kitty?" Ruth asked and bounced in her seat as she buckled her own seatbelt.

  Hazel nodded. "Your principal said I could. And the longer the snow stays on the ground, the antsier he gets."

  It was a bright cloudless day in Cedar Valley and the sun reflected off the snow in a way that was nearly blinding if you looked at it too long. The weather was a few degrees above freezing, but not quite enough to help with the snow melt. Nor did that mean this was the last of the snow. It could fall as late as June, though that was particularly uncommon.

  Still, Hazel knew what Anthony Ray felt like. While she loved her tiny mountain town, at that time of the year, she wished for warmer weather as well. The snowy landscape got boring to shoot after several months of it. And it also meant the number of animals diminished due to the cold.

  Spring was the best time of year to shoot wildlife, and Hazel itched to jump back into her passion as soon as possible. Of course, her photography studio couldn't subsist on that alone, so Wild @ Hart Photography had to do a bit of everything. Hence the school photography gig.

  But if it paid her bills Hazel wasn't about to complain.

  She pulled up at the small school, which didn't seem to have changed since she went there, and parked in a visitor’s spot. Before she even climbed out and grabbed her equipment, Ruth had sprung out of the car and made for the playground where a group of kids her age waited.

  Her mother also bustled inside and
disappeared.

  Thankfully, Michael, her assistant, popped up around the same time. "I've already set up the lights and the background screens. All we need is the cameras and we’ll be ready to go," he said, and his chubby cheeks squished into a smile. It wasn't nearly as pained as it had been a month before when his girlfriend turned out to be the opposite of what she seemed.

  Hazel let out a relieved sigh. "Good. Glad you got here early because getting Ruth out of the house is worse than getting Anthony Ray out of the house," she said and lifted her cat around his belly.

  Michael eyed the black cat and took one of the camera bags from her. "They really let you bring it to school?"

  Hazel rolled her eyes. Anthony Ray and Michael may not have gotten off on the right foot, but Hazel wasn't sure if it was Michael's fault or the cat’s. Maybe a little of both. Michael was incredibly good-natured, but he didn't seem to spend much time with cats and approached Anthony Ray like one would a dog, which had greatly insulted him. Ever since, he gave Michael a wary eye and lifted his paw if Michael got too close.

  It was a warning that her assistant heeded well enough.

  "You’re not going to unleash him on any unsuspecting kids, are you?" Michael asked as they walked into the cafeteria.

  Hazel sighed. "He's good with kids. Well, he's good with Ruth."

  Michael didn't seem convinced, but he didn't say anything more.

  Half of the tables in the cafeteria had been pushed to the side to make room for the photography set up. And from what she could tell, Michael had done an admirable job setting up the background screens and the lights. Even the tripods were ready for the cameras.

  That would come last.

  In preparation, Hazel had spoken with many other photographers who had done something similar and they all warned the same thing. Do not set up the expensive camera until the children are in line and ready to have their photos taken. Otherwise, someone would bump into the tripod and knock over a three-thousand-dollar Nikon.

  Hazel wasn't about to take any chances.

  She secured Anthony Ray's leash to one of the folded tables. It was heavy enough that he wouldn't be able to wander far. She also set out a bowl of water for him.

  Then Michael handed her a cup of coffee from the café on Lake Street—CATfeinated—and grinned sheepishly. "I stopped by on the way here."

  He'd been buying her coffee a few times a week since the whole business with his ex-girlfriend. And Hazel wasn't about to say no. She paid his wages but also knew that he'd put her in a very precarious situation, regardless of his good intentions.

  "How is Celia?" Hazel asked since she hadn't had a chance to drop by and see her best friend that morning.

  Michael shrugged. "Swamped, like usual. Though I thought most of the tourists would be gone since it's too slushy to ski."

  Hazel shrugged and took a long gulp of the lukewarm coffee. She’d have to heat it up, but it was the thought that counted. "Unless we get another good snowfall, the tourists will start dying down until the snow melts."

  Until the new rush of spring and summer tourists showed up. Which was the busy season for the lake in general and Cedar Valley in particular. Especially with all the weddings planned.

  Hazel had her planner booked with them.

  "Watch the equipment and Anthony Ray, would you?" Hazel asked Michael and headed toward the teacher’s lounge—the only place she thought would have a microwave that didn't involve the lunch lady glaring at her.

  She found it easily enough but hesitated when she reached for the knob. It was that same old feeling of excitement she had as a kid when they walked past the door and it was cracked open.

  It was forbidden for students to enter, and though she was obviously no longer ten, the rule still flitted around in her brain nonetheless.

  She shook her head and stepped inside, right into the middle of the thing she least expected.

  Her mother stood, hands on hips, and faced a woman who looked a good ten years older than she was, even if they were exactly the same age. The few tables and couches that filled out the room were empty, so at least no one else was present for the showdown. Hazel had the intense urge to either pull her mother out of the room or back out before anyone noticed her.

  "Casting Ruth as a tree, Roberta? You’re doing this out of spite. You've always done it out of spite. You targeted my girls because of me. Admit it," Hazel's mother said and took a step forward.

  The woman, Roberta Martin, stood her ground. She looked exactly how Hazel remembered her, only older and more skeletal than before. She was rail thin, her bones stark against her sagging skin. Her hair was gray, though she tried to hide it with brown dye, and pulled into a tight bun at the back of her neck. She dressed like a schoolmarm from the turn of the century, in a high-necked blouse and a skirt that went all the way to her ankles. If Hazel thought her mother had a hard time finding clothing, she had no idea how Roberta Martin managed.

  "That's ridiculous, Maureen," Mrs. Martin said in an accent that was no part Cedar Valley. She spoke with a put on British accent mixed with a haughty East Coast accent, and Hazel wasn't sure why. As far as she knew, the woman had lived here her entire life. "I've done nothing but be fair to your family. I only put them where I see fit, and little Ruth is a tree," she said and bared her teeth, startlingly white against her pale, stretched lips.

  She looked like a skeleton come to life, and a shiver went down Hazel’s spine.

  Chapter 2

  "Hello, Mrs. Martin. I came to warm up my coffee," Hazel said and made for the microwave.

  "Just like your mother, barging in where you’re not invited. And look at the lovely job you've done in raising her, Maureen. I thought she was a photographer, and yet, like her mother, she’s dressed as though she joined the circus," Mrs. Martin said and the slightest hint of a triumphant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

  "At least my daughters and I have plenty of imagination, Roberta," Hazel's mother snapped and her arms flew in the air. The gauzy layers of her blouse and tunic flowed after them.

  "Well, in my day, ladies were expected to act and dress in a certain way."

  Hazel's mom let out a bark of humorless laughter. "We both know that’s a lie. If anyone is a lady, it isn’t you. Not with all those skeletons rattling in your closet. You even started to look like one!" she cried and pointed at Mrs. Martin's bony chest.

  "Is that a threat, Maureen?" Mrs. Martin’s eyes narrowed behind her black framed glasses.

  "I would never threaten anyone," Hazel’s mom said sweetly.

  Hazel grabbed her coffee from the microwave. She let it go a bit too long, and her hand flinched as she wrapped it around the paper cup. "I think that's enough. Mom, let's go before you get kicked out of school. Again."

  This time, Mrs. Martin’s smile was fully triumphant.

  "Just you wait, you'll get what's coming to you, Roberta. And when it does, the whole town will do a little dance on your grave and celebrate."

  Mrs. Martin's eyes widened, and she trembled. "I have a mind to turn you into the new sheriff."

  At the thought of Sheriff Cross, Hazel frowned.

  "Go ahead. He's sweet on my Hazel here, so we'll see whose word he takes. Mine or yours."

  At that, Hazel yanked her mom from the room and let the door slam behind her.

  "What was that? Sweet on me? Sheriff Cross is not—"

  Her mother shook her head. "You can't lie to me. I know you two had coffee the other day. Celia told me all about it."

  With her mom out of Mrs. Martin's presence, her anger abated quickly. Still, Hazel frowned. "We didn't have coffee together. I was there for my standing order, and he came in for his standing order at the same time. It was crowded so we sat on the heated porch. That was it," she said, though she felt her ears turning red and knew her cheeks were probably doing the same.

  Her mother patted her on the shoulder, and they headed back to the cafeteria. "If you say so, dear. But sweet on you or not, I haven't
done a thing to actually harm Roberta in years."

  Hazel let out a groan. "Do I want to know about the ‘in years’ part?"

  Her mother gave her a small secret smile. "I've never told the story? Well, there was that time when you were in third grade and Essie was in first, and she gave you a D in music because she was jealous, of course. So I may have replaced a few of the chocolates in her desk with a laxative." Her mom said the last part quickly.

  Hazel shook her head. "That’s—Don’t do that again. A laxative could kill her," she hissed.

  Her mom didn't seem to take that particularly seriously, which was the trouble with her sometimes. "Oh, I wouldn't do it again. But looking at her brings up all these terrible memories, and I can't stand the woman," she said and looked ready to stamp her foot.

  As long as Hazel remembered, her mother disliked Mrs. Martin, but she never really knew where the animosity came from. Hazel knew they’d gone to school together in Cedar Valley, but that was it.

  Her dad might've been able to fill her in on it, but he wasn't coming back until the next day. "You picking up dad from the airport?" she asked to change the subject.

  A girlish smile spread across her mom’s lips, and her eyes sparkled. "Of course. Though, Esther insists I bring her SUV. She doesn't trust the Toyota to get back up the hill in the ice and snow. I told her I'm not going up Mount Rose, but will she listen? No."

  Hazel settled down near her equipment on a stool that Michael had arranged there, and her mom sat near her. She could imagine why Esther came to that conclusion. It wasn't so much her mother that might suggest driving up Mount Rose, but her father couldn't help himself sometimes.

  As soon as he got back to Cedar Valley, he’d disappear into some wilderness region to snap as many pictures as he possibly could. And Mount Rose was one of his favorites, besides the lake basin itself.

  The bell that sounded the start of school rang, and Hazel settled in to get to work. Her mother flitted off to help in Ruth's classroom and Hazel sighed. Hopefully, that would keep her away from Mrs. Martin for the rest of the day. She didn't need to have a showdown with the woman in front of a group of spectators. That would be worse than them going at it one-on-one.