A Mew to a Kill by Leighann Dobbs

was a softy, but it was pretty obvious Neil Lane wasn’t the type to sip tea. “I don’t think your tea is going to help. Cordelia was right, that guy has one mean temper.”
    “Well, it’s a special concoction. I heard Neil was known to be lacking in social skills. I think his temper might just be his frustration at his lack of social skills.”
    I shook my head as I slid behind the wheel of the Jeep. Pepper was a bleeding heart, always thinking the best of people and wanting to help them. As I pulled out of the driveway, I glanced at Neil’s cottage in the rear-view mirror. “It’s too bad Neil didn’t seem to want to tell us anything about Paisley.”
    “Maybe he didn’t know anything,” Pepper suggested.
    “Maybe, but if that’s the case, why did he have such a violent reaction to the mere mention of her name?”

    ***

    “Can you believe Opal Winters hangs out at a jazz bar?” Pepper asked as we drove away from Neil’s.
    “She seems more like the rock bar type, but I guess you never know.” I glanced at the clock on my dashboard. It was only four and Pepper's contact had told us Opal usually appeared at the bar around five for happy hour. “It looks like we have a little bit of time. You want to go check out Paisley’s brother?”
    “Of course. I brought some tea to bring to St. Vincent’s, too. You know I drop off a special blend of herbals for the homeless every week.” Pepper rummaged in her giant tote bag and pulled out another white bag which she centered on her lap.
    St. Vincent’s church was at the west end of town, off the beaten path. The church had converted part of the rectory into a homeless shelter. We didn’t have too many homeless in Mystic Notch, but at least the few who were without homes had a place to go. The weather in the mountains could get nasty, especially in winter when temperatures dipped below zero.
    I parked in front of the small church and Pepper led me to a side door where she rang a doorbell. Father Tim answered, his face lighting up in a smile when he saw Pepper.
    “Pepper, thank you so much.” Father Tim took the bag and ushered us inside.
    “Father, you remember Willa Chance?” Pepper gestured to me.
    Father Tim’s brows tugged together as he studied me. “Anna’s granddaughter?”
    I nodded. “That’s right. Good to see you again.”
    “Same here.” Father Tim put the bag on a blonde wood desk and gestured for us to sit in the wooden chairs that were lined up against one wall. The chairs were plain, made from similar light wood as the no-frills desk. There were no pictures on the off-white walls, the only decoration a wooden cross hanging over the desk. The word Spartan came to mind.  
    “Oh, we can’t stay.” Pepper glanced at me.  
    “We’re here looking for one of your parishioners—Kenny Brown,” I said.
    Father Tim’s forehead creased in concern. “Is Kenny in trouble?”
    “Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. His sister was a fellow merchant down on Main Street and she died in a fire. We were just wondering about him…”   I let my voice trail off hoping Father Tim would assume we were wondering about Kenny’s well-being as opposed to wondering if he killed his sister.
    “His sister perished in the fire on Main Street?” Father Tim stroked his gray beard.
    “Yes.” I nodded solemnly
    “So, that explains it.”
    “Explains what?”
    “Why Kenny was acting so oddly.” Father Tim shook his head. “I was afraid he might have gotten back on drugs. I should have had more faith.”
    “How was he acting oddly?”
    “Oh, it’s just the other day he ran out of here like a bat out of hell. He missed serving supper to the homeless and he’s usually very diligent about that. He was touchy and jumpy. Of course, it’s all understandable now.” Father Tim spread his hands. “I wish he’d said something to me.”
    “I heard he stays in the homeless shelter.” I was even more anxious to talk to Kenny now, considering his odd