by Rose Pressey
I headed for the estate. Crowds of people moved around the beautiful grounds. I wanted to view the crime scene one more time. Honestly, I didn’t want to see the spot again, but I felt as if this were something I had to do. The area had been opened back up to the public for tours, and it was business as usual. Maybe I was crazy to even think about going back in there to the scene of the crime. I should just put all of this out of my mind. I was in too deep now, though.
Had the police missed something? Yeah, that was unlikely, but the overwhelming feeling of checking it out made me head right into the mansion. Everyone would wonder what happened to me if it took too long in there, so I would have to hurry. The last thing I needed was my family calling for a search party or reporting me missing. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d done that. A couple of years ago, I spent a little too long in Target and forgot my phone in the car. By the time I checked out, my mother had already called private investigators to help find me.
I declined going with a tour group. Even though I had access to the estate grounds for the craft fair, I didn’t have unlimited tour admissions. We’d been allowed one free tour. Anything further and I’d have to purchase a ticket. I just wanted to go out on my own. No need to see the whole mansion. Nervousness hit me as I stepped inside the hallway leading to the room where I’d found Ellen’s body. It looked calm and orderly, as if there had never been a murder. What had I expected? To still see the chalk outline of her body? Crime-scene tape still draped across the room? Sounds echoed through the massive, tall-ceilinged chamber. Giant portraits, vases, and other expensive items decorated the space. Thick velvet drapes hung from the windows.
Stepping across the marble floor, I came to the room where I’d found Ellen just a few days ago. In one way, it seemed like minutes, and in another, it seemed like years. I stared from the doorway, peering over the area. I suppose standing over here wouldn’t do much good. I had to get closer for a better view. My stomach twisted into an even tighter knot at the thought. Nevertheless, I had to do this.
I stepped over to the spot where I had found the body. Did the people who were currently taking a tour even know what had happened here? A new tour guide had taken over the area. If I worked here, I would be nervous that the killer could return. What if the person was targeting tour guides? That theory couldn’t totally be ruled out. Though why they would focus on tour guides was beyond me. Just another part of the mystery.
As I stood there surveying the room, I sensed someone behind me. Spinning around, I took in the entire room, but no one in the nearby group of tour-goers seemed interested in me. Perhaps Mr. Vanderbilt was hiding from me. Yes, that had to be it. It was odd that he hadn’t made an appearance all morning. Not even when my family arrived. They might be the reason he stayed away, though. I wouldn’t blame him. Nevertheless, I assumed I was just sensing his presence.
This was silly. Why was I here? The police had checked the scene. There was nothing left for me to find. I decided it was time for me to get out of there. Coffee and doughnuts were calling my name.
As I took in one last scan of the surroundings, something shiny on the floor caught my attention. Hidden behind an ornate buffet-style table was a gold object. I checked to see if anyone was watching me. If the tour guide spotted me fishing around on the floor, he would call security. Luck was on my side, since he was distracted by a middle-aged man wearing a bright orange Hawaiian shirt. Had he gotten on the wrong plane? Instead of Honolulu, he’d ended up in North Carolina. Bless his heart; at least he was keeping the tour guide busy. I just needed him to stay distracted for a couple more minutes. Just long enough for me to grab the sparkly object.
I inched over to the table, trying to act nonchalant. In reality, I was probably being completely obvious. Luckily, no one noticed my movements. I stood with my back against the table now. I was able to get close and eased down to the floor, stretching my arm back. I fumbled around on the floor, trying to make contact with the item. Where was the thing? Finding it without taking my eyes off the tour guide was tough. My fingers touched something cold. Aha. I’d made contact. Now I hoped the thing didn’t slip through my fingers.
I stretched my arm out from under the table with my hand firmly clutching the object. My hand shook after my stealth mission. With the tour guide still distracted, I opened my fist to see what treasure I’d unearthed. A shiny gold keychain. It was the shape of a heart and had a single gold key attached.
The initials S.K. were etched on the front. Well, this couldn’t be Ellen’s. With the amount of people that came through here on a daily basis, this keychain could belong to anyone. So why was I thinking it might have something to do with the murder? Because it couldn’t be ruled out that the killer had dropped this when they’d been in the act?
It was probably nothing to do with that, but I would keep it in my mind. Besides, how would I find out who owned the keychain and what the key was for? That was like finding a needle in a haystack. A thought popped into my head. S.K. Stan Knowles? He was on my suspect list. It was probably a crazy thought. Nevertheless, I had to consider the possibility.
The man in the Hawaiian shirt walked away, and the tour guide’s attention turned to me. Our eyes met, and I stood frozen. Guilt had to be written on my face.
“May I help you?” he asked with a note of aggravation in his voice.
It was time for me to get out of there.
“No, thank you. I was just taking in the beauty of the room,” I said with a nervous laugh.
He watched me as I hurried across the room. Glancing over my shoulder as I rushed out the door, I saw that he remained focused on me. I hoped he wouldn’t call security. Did he recognize me as the woman who had found Ellen’s body? I burst out of the estate and into the fresh sunshine. Thank goodness I’d escaped. The keychain was still in my hand. There was no way I would let it go.
An adrenaline rush hit me as I hurried toward the food stand. Just a bit of a lead had set off the excitement in me. I doubted it would come to anything, but I was proud that I had discovered something else. As I stood in line at the food truck, I studied the keychain. Yes, this could definitely belong to Stan Knowles. It could have fallen from his pocket in the struggle with Ellen.
I was heading back to my trailer, trying to balance all of the items in my arms, when I heard the sound of footsteps. They crunched against ground with a distinct sound. I felt as if I were being followed. I quickened my steps while trying to keep the coffee from spilling. Sucking in a few gulps of air, I felt fear flutter in my chest. I couldn’t walk any faster without dropping everything. Maybe I should just toss the food and coffee on the ground and run for my life. Or I could turn around and confront the person behind me. No—what if it was the killer? That would be a bad idea. I needed to get out of here.
Other people around didn’t seem to notice me, or anything unusual. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me. I was being paranoid. It was easy for that to happen with the fear of a killer being around. Why couldn’t Caleb or Pierce show up right about now?
Sammie ran over when she saw me with armfuls of drinks and food. She grabbed the coffees from my hands. The expression on my face told her that I had been in some kind of scary situation. She knew me well.
“Where have you been?” she asked. “You had me worried to death. I was ready to call the police.”
“Oh, you know, here and there,” I said, taking a bite out of a doughnut.
“I’m not buying that.”
I pointed at my mouth as if to say it was full and I couldn’t possibly answer.
“I can wait,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her.
When I finished chewing, I said, “Well, I guess you’re wondering what happened to me.”
“Obviously,” she said.
“I found this keychain, and I just think that there’s something important about it.” I pulled the keychain from my pocket. “It was in the area where I found Ellen.”
“I just don’t want y
ou to get in trouble,” she said.
“No trouble here,” I said. “There is somewhere else I need to go. Would you be able to watch the booth for me?”
“Of course, that’s what I’m here for, to help. But this place you’re going, will it get you in trouble?” Sammie asked.
“No, of course not,” I said with a smile.
My brothers and dad had devoured their breakfast snacks in seconds. My mother and grandmother were daintily nibbling theirs.
“Slow down. Eating that fast is bad for your digestive system,” my mother warned.
She said that on a daily basis, but they never listened. My mother managed to get them to the car and headed to the hotel. I knew that my dad had work to do, as well. He might be surrounded by chaos, but he was focused on work. I took after him regarding that, but not so much on the clumsiness, much to my mother’s happiness. I was more like her in that respect.
Sammie and I watched as my family drove away.
“I feel like we just weathered a storm,” I said.
She laughed. “But they’re great, and they love you.”
“Yeah, I suppose they are crazy, but great. I’m lucky to have them.”
“Just remember you said that the next time they’re wreaking havoc in your life.”
* * *
After leaving Sammie at the booth, I drove to the diner. I parked the truck and got out. When I spotted a couple of employees standing outside, I became interested in what they might be discussing. A man and a woman were in earnest conversation.
“What are you doing?” a male voice asked from over my shoulder.
I jumped and spun around. “Oh, you scared me,” I said, seeing nobody there.
“Oops,” he said.
I clutched my chest. “Where have you been, Mr. Vanderbilt?”
“I was hiding out from your family. I didn’t want them to see me.”
“They can’t see you,” I said.
Still, Sammie had seen the other ghost. Maybe she would be able to see him, too.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Positive. Even if my friend and family saw you, they’d be fine with that. You’re nice. There’s no reason to be scared. They’re a little crazy but otherwise harmless.”
The ghost was afraid of my family? How ironic was that?
“If you say so,” he said. “That brings me back to the question, what are you doing here?”
“I’m listening in on their conversation. At least, I was trying to.”
“What are they saying?” he asked. “You need to be careful.”
“Give me just a minute, and I’ll explain.” I turned my attention back to the dark-haired man and woman.
The vanilla-malt blonde crossed her arms in front of her apron-covered waist. She wore the bluebell-covered uniform dress. He wiped his hands on his black pants. Apparently, he’d lost his apron somewhere along the way.
“What’s going on here?” a female voice asked from over my shoulder.
I jumped again. Mr. Vanderbilt flinched, as well.
“Oh, my goodness, Grammy. What are you doing here?” I asked. “You nearly scared me to death.”
“I thought you were acting strange, so I decided to take your mother’s car and come check on you.”
“You took mom’s car?”
“She didn’t say I couldn’t.”
“I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t want you to take it. And I’m not sure how you can even see over the steering wheel.”
My grandmother was a petite woman and sat on pillows to see out of the car. I supposed what my grandmother always said was true: where there was a will, there was a way.
“Don’t you worry about me. I get things done if they need to be done,” she said.
“I don’t doubt that, Grammy.”
“So what’s going on here? Why are you acting so suspicious?” she asked.
“I’m not acting suspicious,” I said.
She raised an eyebrow. “Now tell Grammy the truth.”
“You always know the truth, don’t you, Grammy?”
“Always,” she said.
“I’m spying on that man and woman over there.”
“Well, get back to it,” she said.
The three of us turned and stared at the couple. Of course, Grammy didn’t know that there was a third person with us.
Grammy nudged me. “What are you doing standing back here? You should go over there and listen to them. At the least, you’ll hear better.”
“Even better, maybe you should talk to them,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.
“Is everything all right, dear?”
My grandmother had no idea that the ghost was talking to me. Should I tell her about Mr. Vanderbilt? Could I really do what Mr. Vanderbilt suggested? How would I start a conversation with them?
“I was just thinking that maybe I should go over and talk to those people. What will two strangers think when I ask about another stranger?”
“I’d ask for directions, that always works,” she said.
“I want to ask about another woman who works here,” I said.
“Well, it certainly can’t hurt to start a conversation,” my grandmother said. “It’s better than hiding over here by this car and trying to eavesdrop.”
At this point, the people hadn’t noticed me.
“I guess I can give it a shot, but I don’t know how to start a conversation.”
“Ask about the food here,” Grammy said.
“I like the way you think, Grammy,” I said. “That’s a great idea.”
“Now I see where you get your smarts from,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.
I should tell Grammy about that compliment. She loved compliments. I thought she’d like Mr. Vanderbilt, too. Pushing my shoulders back, I headed over toward the man and woman. They watched me, obviously curious as to my intentions.
When I approached, I said, “I hate to bother you, but I was wondering if you can tell me . . .”
Now I probably appeared terrified. I had no idea what to ask for. My mind had gone blank under the pressure.
“The nearest post office,” I blurted out. “I nearly forgot I need to mail a letter today.”
They stared at me as if I’d asked for the nearest train to the moon.
“Well, they’re not the friendliest bunch, are they?” Mr. Vanderbilt asked.
“I think there’s one just down the street,” the woman said. A crease formed between her barely visible blonde eyebrows as she pointed.
At least she was talking to me. That was definitely a start. But how would I transition the conversation now?
“Great. Thanks. I’ll have to head there right after I have breakfast. Is the food good here?” I asked.
I was running out of ideas on what to talk about. And I was beginning to get even stranger stares from the employees.
“I recognize that little red Mazda from the Biltmore Estate.” I pointed.
I acted as if this were a random sighting. They didn’t need to know that this was all planned. It was all in the name of solving a crime. Where they on to me? How would I explain my question? I was just being a little too nervous.
“Do you know Tasha?” I asked.
“Yeah, we work with her,” the guy said as he tossed a cigarette butt onto the ground.
I wanted to go over and pick it up or make him pick it up. No need to litter when there was a trash can nearby. Didn’t he want to keep the parking lot nice and pretty? Having litter around certainly wouldn’t accomplish that. But the litterbug was the least of my worries right now. I needed to focus.
“Yeah, we know her,” the woman said.
“Oh, really? That’s great. I know she was a hard worker at the estate.”
The woman laughed. “Things must have changed, because she sure isn’t doing that here.”
“Oh, this doesn’t sound good,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.
“Really? I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Maybe she’s going through a stressful time ri
ght now.”
Where did I even come up with the stuff? The words just slipped from my mouth without a second thought.
“Yeah, I suppose that could be it. She has been acting weird lately,” the woman said.
“How so?” I asked.
They probably thought it was strange that I was discussing this with them. I really didn’t have a reason for asking the questions. Maybe they thought I was just being a gossip.
A car pulled into the parking lot. When the man got out, I recognized the driver. Stan Knowles.
“Oh, speaking of weird,” the woman said as she watched Stan.
“He really has been here a lot,” I said.
I regretted saying that once it had slipped out. They’d wonder how I knew Stan had been here a lot.
“Do you know him?” I asked.
“Actually, I do. Well, I just know of him,” the woman said.
“Is Tasha friends with him?” I pressed.
“I don’t know what their status is,” the woman said.
“Really? That’s interesting. Maybe that’s why she’s been distracted at work,” I said.
“I think something’s going on with them,” the man said.
It sounded as if something was going on, and I wanted to get to the bottom of it. Stan walked into the diner. Now, more than ever, I wanted to get inside.
“Oh, now you have to go inside and eat,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.
I thought Mr. Vanderbilt and Grammy liked this diner, too.
CHAPTER 23
Travel Trailer Tip 23:
A trailer can be just as comfortable as home.
Add personal touches like photos and toss
pillows. Keep your trailer neat so you will be
prepared for visitors, including ghosts.
My grandmother must have been on the same wavelength, because she said, “We should go inside and eat now, dear.”
“Oh, right,” I said with a smile. “I almost forgot.”
I knew that the couple had suspicions about me, but it didn’t matter at this point. As long as I didn’t continue my suspicious behavior, they’d probably forget all about me. I looped my arm to my grandmother’s, and we marched for the diner. Mr. Vanderbilt followed behind, rushing around and grabbing at the door handle as if he were going to open the door for us. Oh, how sweet was that. Unfortunately, his hand went right through. It was the thought that counted, though.
