Poisoned Pin: A Cozy Mystery (Brenna Battle Book 2) by Laney Monday
Authors: Laney Monday
Tags: Fiction
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furniture, I hoped. I poked around the cobwebs and the shadows, moving in the direction of the ballroom.
In a relatively debris and dust-free circle on the floor between two joists, a shaft of pale light shine from below. I inched carefully toward the hole in the floor—the ceiling of the ballroom below.
A huge U-bolt, which I supposed had held the electrical box attached to the base of the chandelier, lay beside a heavy metal bar that spanned from one joist to another. The chandelier had basically hung from that bar. At least its base had. With the U-bolt unfastened, the electrical box, which was attached to the chandelier, had fallen. Certainly the base of the chandelier had been attached to the ceiling somehow, but that wouldn’t have been enough to support its full weight. The U-bolt should’ve done the job, except that it was no longer fastened to the bar. How had it come off? Had it just been weakened or loosened over time? Was it mere coincidence that it had popped completely free at just the right—or wrong—time? Or, had someone been up here, waiting, loosening it?
As I crouched there, pondering, I heard a sort of scurrying sound on the other side of the attic. Rats? Ew .
Bang!
I stilled. And then it hit me. That was the door! I rushed in that direction, imagining a key turning in the lock, sealing me in here forever. I gripped the doorknob and yanked for my life. The door flew open with ease. I fought to keep my balance. Of course, the thing didn’t even have a lock. Still … I’d left the door open, for sure. And I’d distinctly heard it slam shut. Rats might possibly sound like a person moving around, but they could not shut doors, no matter how big they were.
Was the chandelier meant to get me to dismiss the whole thing as the work of spirits after all? Or was it a warning to stop nosing into Derek’s death? It could be that someone wanted to kill Harvey. But there was another possibility. Someone had really tried to kill me . Again. I raced down the stairs, searching for the culprit. But I could hear Blythe’s voice in my head, warning me, making me promise not to do anything stupid. I’d never forget how I felt when I almost lost her. I knew how she’d felt when she thought she lost me. I couldn’t chase after a murderer, unarmed, in an unfamiliar house.
16
I slipped out the side door, into the daylight, and stood there drinking in the sunshine, calming myself down and debating whether to call Riggins. And tell him what? That I’d sneaked back into the house and started snooping around? That I heard a door shut, and possibly footsteps? Yeah, right. I couldn’t even say for sure there’d been anyone in the house. I could nag him about investigating that chandelier. That was about all I could expect, given the cold shoulder I’d turned to my favorite cop lately.
I sighed. I couldn’t deny I regretted that. A little voice inside me kept saying, Wouldn’t it be nicer to just be, you know, nice, to that nice Officer Riggins? But then there was that much deeper, much louder voice that reminded me I’d be sure to regret playing nice with Will Riggins much, much more.
I snooped around the yard and the garden a bit, looking for clues, listening for doors opening or closing. Maybe the culprit was still inside, and I’d get to see him trying to sneak out. I got my phone ready just in case I needed to record him trying to escape.
As I made my rounds, I saw a car arrive and park across the street. I wasn’t sure, but I thought it looked like Jacinda Peters behind the wheel. I ducked behind the carefully trimmed shrubbery at the foot of the front steps to Reiner House and peered at the car. It was probably just Jacinda coming to ogle Reiner House, or even to talk ghost stories with Harvey, but I wanted to find out for sure. A woman emerged, followed by a girl in her late teens or early twenties, with short, straight, mousy brown hair.
The older woman was Jacinda, alright. She’d changed
In a relatively debris and dust-free circle on the floor between two joists, a shaft of pale light shine from below. I inched carefully toward the hole in the floor—the ceiling of the ballroom below.
A huge U-bolt, which I supposed had held the electrical box attached to the base of the chandelier, lay beside a heavy metal bar that spanned from one joist to another. The chandelier had basically hung from that bar. At least its base had. With the U-bolt unfastened, the electrical box, which was attached to the chandelier, had fallen. Certainly the base of the chandelier had been attached to the ceiling somehow, but that wouldn’t have been enough to support its full weight. The U-bolt should’ve done the job, except that it was no longer fastened to the bar. How had it come off? Had it just been weakened or loosened over time? Was it mere coincidence that it had popped completely free at just the right—or wrong—time? Or, had someone been up here, waiting, loosening it?
As I crouched there, pondering, I heard a sort of scurrying sound on the other side of the attic. Rats? Ew .
Bang!
I stilled. And then it hit me. That was the door! I rushed in that direction, imagining a key turning in the lock, sealing me in here forever. I gripped the doorknob and yanked for my life. The door flew open with ease. I fought to keep my balance. Of course, the thing didn’t even have a lock. Still … I’d left the door open, for sure. And I’d distinctly heard it slam shut. Rats might possibly sound like a person moving around, but they could not shut doors, no matter how big they were.
Was the chandelier meant to get me to dismiss the whole thing as the work of spirits after all? Or was it a warning to stop nosing into Derek’s death? It could be that someone wanted to kill Harvey. But there was another possibility. Someone had really tried to kill me . Again. I raced down the stairs, searching for the culprit. But I could hear Blythe’s voice in my head, warning me, making me promise not to do anything stupid. I’d never forget how I felt when I almost lost her. I knew how she’d felt when she thought she lost me. I couldn’t chase after a murderer, unarmed, in an unfamiliar house.
16
I slipped out the side door, into the daylight, and stood there drinking in the sunshine, calming myself down and debating whether to call Riggins. And tell him what? That I’d sneaked back into the house and started snooping around? That I heard a door shut, and possibly footsteps? Yeah, right. I couldn’t even say for sure there’d been anyone in the house. I could nag him about investigating that chandelier. That was about all I could expect, given the cold shoulder I’d turned to my favorite cop lately.
I sighed. I couldn’t deny I regretted that. A little voice inside me kept saying, Wouldn’t it be nicer to just be, you know, nice, to that nice Officer Riggins? But then there was that much deeper, much louder voice that reminded me I’d be sure to regret playing nice with Will Riggins much, much more.
I snooped around the yard and the garden a bit, looking for clues, listening for doors opening or closing. Maybe the culprit was still inside, and I’d get to see him trying to sneak out. I got my phone ready just in case I needed to record him trying to escape.
As I made my rounds, I saw a car arrive and park across the street. I wasn’t sure, but I thought it looked like Jacinda Peters behind the wheel. I ducked behind the carefully trimmed shrubbery at the foot of the front steps to Reiner House and peered at the car. It was probably just Jacinda coming to ogle Reiner House, or even to talk ghost stories with Harvey, but I wanted to find out for sure. A woman emerged, followed by a girl in her late teens or early twenties, with short, straight, mousy brown hair.
The older woman was Jacinda, alright. She’d changed
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