Mrs. Morris and the Vampire

by Traci Wilton

  The bandstand had finally been refurbished. The lawn pristine. It was a place for the people of Salem like always. According to Patrick’s book, the historical homes around the common lawn used to be connected.

  Another ding. Then I know you read my text.

  Charlene gripped the wheel and called via Bluetooth. “I was trying not to bother you since I was calling so much.”

  “That was Serenity. Me?” Brandy blew out a loud breath. “I want to know what you’re up to.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I broke a bottle of your house wine,” she exclaimed. “Fine, that could be slippery fingers. But then the letter C showed up on the counter when I dumped the change. My angels have been whispering your name. What are you doing?”

  “Nothing!” She glared at the phone. “I just had lunch with the pirate from the witch ball—the author?”

  “Patrick Steel.”

  “Yes. He’s so smart. Very intelligent. I hope he gives me a tour from the street of the underground tunnels.”

  Brandy clicked her tongue. “The tunnels are closed.”

  “I know that. That’s why Patrick said it would be from the street level.”

  “Closed for security reasons.”

  “Government?”

  “Not just that. The tunnels were a maze of pathways, not all as safe and supported as the main tunnels. They lead to banks and the museum as well as the prison and the courthouse. Some are filled with water and sewage.” Her tone rose.

  “Why are you so worked up? Patrick and Kevin both already told me this too.”

  “I am not worked up.”

  “Maybe you should have some tea or something. Relax.” Charlene breathed in, then out, as an example.

  Brandy snorted. “Where are you right now?”

  Charlene slowed to round Washington Street, toward Alaric’s house. “Just driving home.” This close to Alaric’s and Elisabeta’s, and her reason for driving by, made her ask, “Did you ever give a statement to Officer Jimenez?”

  “I did. She’s an odd duck—she asked not only about Orpheus, but our stop at Alaric’s to visit Elisabeta. You might have warned me that you’d told them everything.”

  “Just what they needed to know. Nothing personal about you or Serenity.”

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  Charlene rolled past the rental house, slowly, then stopped in the street. No other cars were coming.

  The curtains were closed. She could see the road kitty-corner behind the house that the man had jumped from the second-floor window to run away on.

  She was sure Orpheus had asked Patrick for the tour.

  The black cat dozed on the corner of the top porch step, eyes closed, body relaxed.

  No car in the driveway, or sign of anybody home. Charlene could leave her card in the door with a message to call. She was 100 percent certain that Elisabeta had answers.

  “Where are you?” Brandy asked again. “Why am I thinking of Alaric and Elisabeta?”

  Charlene’s eyes widened. “I’ll call you later.” She jammed her thumb to the end call button. That was too spooky. “Stop reading my mind, Brandy!”

  Goose bumps slid up and down her spine and she reached into her purse for the card and pen. There was a basement entrance to the side of the house. Patrick’s book had said those were put in later and not part of the original home design of the nineteenth century. The cat startled, then meowed, jumping to the dead grass.

  Asher appeared from the basement to the lawn, bending down to pat the cat on the head.

  Her stomach clenched and she gripped the pen tighter. Celeste was right behind Asher. The girl had shadows in her cheeks and bags under her eyes as if she hadn’t slept in days. Red marks were on her throat.

  Asher and Celeste walked up the front porch stairs and into the house, followed by the cat.

  He had said that he’d made up with his roommate after a huge fight and moved back. Elisabeta had said three of them had come from New Orleans.

  Asher was tall, like the man who’d jumped from the second story of this house to run down the road. Maybe Elisabeta knew he’d been there—maybe not, if they’d been arguing.

  Had the fight been about Alaric, and Alaric’s death?

  What if Elisabeta was the killer?

  Charlene blew out a slow breath and aborted the plan to leave a note. She had to talk this over with Jack. Celeste was supposed to be on a plane home to Jersey City.

  Why had the young woman stayed? Yes, she’d been infatuated. Was Asher using some kind of vampire allure?

  She shook off the chills dancing on her nape and put the car in gear, driving on before she got busted for snooping. Reaching the other side of the park, Charlene called Brandy.

  “Hey—it’s me. Listen, can you ask Serenity if the name Asher sounds familiar to her? I think I discovered the third person from New Orleans. If it’s true, he’s been in our sight the whole time. At the witch ball. In my house as a guest.” Her stomach clenched. “He’s at Elisabeta’s.” With Celeste.

  “I’ll ask her—but first, tell me what you were doing.”

  “I have questions for Elisabeta, but I realize now that just dropping her a note to call me probably won’t work.” She needed a better plan. “Do you know how Alaric earned his money?”

  “Serenity said he just had it, but I’ll press her for more when I ask about Asher. He was a guest at your B and B?”

  “Sleeping with a guest, a sweet girl, rather than registered himself. Asher had plenty of money and was tossing it around. Being the big shot. Celeste is in love. Sound familiar?”

  “What is with these bad-boy types?” Brandy exhaled. “Rhetorical question. Talk to you soon.”

  Charlene arrived home just as another dusting of snow was starting to fall. She’d give Avery a ride home tonight. A bike wasn’t warm or safe transportation in the fall or winter.

  Maybe it was time to think of getting a second car . . . something inexpensive but safe enough for Avery to borrow.

  She parked in the driveway since she’d be going out again and climbed the stairs.

  The Halloween decorations were now all Thanksgiving and fall. She opened the front door and breathed in the scents of spiced apple and caramel.

  Avery sat on a stool in the kitchen chatting with Minnie. Her big eyes were emphasized by blue-and-silver eye shadow and her lips a pretty pink. Now a senior in high school, she enjoyed mixing things up. Her denim coveralls had black-and-white patches and she wore one black Converse and one white. Just because she could.

  “Been here long?” Charlene asked.

  “Just arrived and deciding on what kind of pie to have before getting to work.” Avery sniffed and pointed to the bag. “What’s that? It sure smells good. Buttery. Garlic?”

  “Half a lobster roll. I had lunch with an author today at Sea Level.” Charlene put it down on the counter and smiled at Minnie. “I see you made more progress on switching out the decorations. Looks very nice.”

  “I like the cornucopia next to the shell by the door but so does Silva, so I don’t know if it should stay there. Too much temptation.”

  Charlene nodded, then turned to Avery. “Would you like the lobster roll instead of pie?”

  Avery hopped off the stool and crossed to the bag. “You kidding me? I only had lobster once and it was the best thing ever!”

  “Dig in. You can have pie later.”

  Minnie wiped her hands on her apron. “I remember being able to eat like that—enjoy it while you can, sweetie.”

  Charlene shrugged out of her jacket. “I saw Celeste down by the Commons today, with Asher. Didn’t she leave with Tommy and Joey?”

  “I thought she did,” Minnie said. “Her room’s empty.”

  “That’s really strange. Oh well.” She grinned at her crew. “What’s the plan for the afternoon?”

  Minnie gestured to Avery, who had washed up and was now biting into the lobster roll. “Avery’s going to clean out the rooms and switc
h the linens. I did two of the suites before she got here. Sheets and towels already in the wash.”

  “Excellent. Our next wave comes in tomorrow. Three of the four suites and one single.”

  “But all full again by Friday.” Minnie nodded proudly. “I made chicken pot pie for you to have for dinner, and lunch if you need something ready for guests tomorrow. I won’t be here, don’t forget. Doctor checkups all day.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.” She needed to be here the whole day, which meant no running around the tunnels—aboveground, or below, for her.

  “Everything okay, Minnie?” Avery asked in concern, lowering the lobster roll.

  Aww. That girl has a big, tender heart.

  Minnie put a hand on Avery’s shoulder. “Prize for getting older—more doctor appointments to make sure everything is running smooth. I’m healthy as a horse, Avery, and plan on staying that way.”

  Avery offered the roll. “Wanna bite? I should’ve asked. Sorry!”

  “Thanks, but no. You need more meat on your bones, while I could use less.” Minnie patted her round hips.

  “My bones are fine. It’s my legs that are skinny.”

  Charlene shared an amused look with Minnie. “Let me change out of these boots and I’ll be back to help with laundry.”

  “Take your time,” Minnie said. “We’ve got this under control.”

  Charlene knew they did, so she went to her room. She kicked off her boots and hung her coat in the small closet, then returned to her sitting room.

  Using the remote, she turned on the television, sat on the love seat, and called for Jack. “Jack? Are you there?”

  She needed to talk to him about Orpheus and Asher. The hospital and the wharf. The tunnels. Everything. Nobody was better than Jack for her to bounce ideas off of. She whispered again, “Jack?”

  Hugging her pillow, she sat back with disappointment. He was a no-show.

  Sparkles of light lit the room for a brief moment, and then there he was. Magnificent as always.

  She grinned. “You had me worried.”

  “I come to you whenever I can—and after your remark earlier, I hadn’t gone far. How was lunch?” He sat in the armchair across from her to see her better. “Did you solve the crime?” He’d changed from his chinos and button-up shirt earlier to a blue wool sweater and a pair of gray slacks, moccasins on his feet.

  “Lunch was terrific. Patrick showed me his maps he used for the book. I thought that perhaps the waterways and tunnels might be connected, but I was wrong. The roads are built over the tunnels and most of them are filled in or blocked off.”

  “Whoa. Wait a minute.” Jack raised his hand. “Why did you want to know that?”

  “Alaric’s body was found near Derby Wharf. He’d done a disappearing trick. Did Serenity actually use a spell that helped him travel? How did he get from the Hawthorne Hotel, to sea?”

  “Excellent questions. Did Patrick help?”

  “He nixed one of my ideas—which is helpful, in a way.”

  “Which one?”

  “That maybe there was a tunnel or secret passage from the Hawthorne Hotel to the wharf.”

  He flashed his white teeth and chuckled. “Oh. That’s very interesting. Did you get to see the map?”

  “Yes. There was a tunnel for delivering cargo at one time, but it was filled in a while ago. I guess when the Hawthorne was built? It used to be the Franklin Building, and before that, some guy’s house.”

  He crossed one leg over the other. “That’s right. I remember that from history class.”

  “Patrick offered to give me a tour of the tunnels, but from the street, since having one underground isn’t allowed.”

  “What would you learn?”

  “Where the tunnels are. Where the entrances and exits are—people in the old days used them as much as they did the roads. But even Brandy told me that it was a bad idea to go underground. Kevin said I needed a tetanus shot, but he’d take me. I think he was kidding.”

  Jack stood up in alarm. “I don’t want you going down under the city. It’s dangerous. What is Kevin thinking?”

  “He’s game if I am. The property owners and businesses that still use them have strengthened the tunnels so that they’re safe. Kevin’s been down there and knows the ones that aren’t. Sit down, Jack. You know he’d never put me in harm’s way.”

  He sat but wasn’t happy about it. “When are you supposed to do this?”

  “If I do it, it can’t be until Friday or Saturday with Kevin—Patrick can’t fit me in until next week.”

  “What’s the hurry?” Jack demanded.

  “Two men are dead, Jack. We want to help Serenity, right?”

  He glowered. “Where is Sam in all of this? Shouldn’t he be the leader of the pack? Or is it too dangerous for our pretty boy?”

  “Sam and I are no longer texting each other during a case. He’s not going to stop by for coffee. He wants to meet at the station to go over information, when he has it to share—or I do.” Charlene set her pillow aside. “Says it’s more professional.”

  “Didn’t think he knew the meaning of the word.” Jack gave her a pointed look. “He’s always made it personal, dropping in all the time.”

  Jack exuded agitation with frenetic energy that made his image quiver until he calmed himself down.

  She spoke in a soothing voice. “Well, no more.”

  “Why the sudden change of heart?” Jack tossed a plastic mouse to Silva on the windowsill.

  “It will keep the boundaries clear for both of us.” She would miss seeing Sam, though she wouldn’t admit it.

  Charlene clasped her hands and brought the subject away from the detective. “Patrick said that Salem used to be extremely wealthy. Where did all of the treasure from the ships go? Were leaders of the community lining their own pockets?”

  Jack snorted. “Maybe there was some of that, but Salem’s forefathers set up the Peabody Essex Museum to house local artifacts as well as priceless objects from overseas. To keep them protected, not for personal gain.”

  “I have a strong desire to check out the museum myself.” She grinned at Jack. “Admire some of that amazing treasure.”

  “The priceless items would be heavily protected.” Jack rubbed his hands. “Not out in the open, up for grabs.”

  “I know . . . but Dru works there. Maybe he could pull some strings.” Dru, who she’d love to chat with. “Brandy mentioned the tunnels used to lead there. And to the banks. That doesn’t seem very secure to me.”

  “A bank vault is extremely secure. It would take a team of professionals to get away with a break-in.”

  “Not if you have a secret passageway that leads inside the vault.” Charlene got to her feet with a smirk.

  “You have a point,” Jack conceded, “but I’m sure they’ve been closed off for a great many years.”

  “You’re probably right. Kevin mentioned heightened security after nine-eleven—that was a wake-up call. Hey, you ever heard a rumor about treasure buried inside the tunnels?”

  “No.” Jack placed his hands on his hips. “Not surprised, though.”

  “Kevin said there wasn’t any; so did Patrick.”

  “Was the author a snob, like we feared?”

  “No way.” Charlene laughed. “I told him that I’d been a little nervous and he was nothing but sweet about it.”

  “I’m glad you had a nice lunch.” He bent down and grabbed the mouse from Silva, who lifted two paws to get it back.

  “I asked Patrick who had contacted him last week about an underground tour and the tunnels.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Don’t keep me hanging. Who was it? One of our vampires?”

  Charlene perched on the armrest of her love seat. “He couldn’t remember the name, said it was weird. I asked if it was Asher, because of all the money he’s been flashing around, and he said the name was stranger than that.”

  “Like Alaric?”

  “Maybe. But listen, I have reason to beli
eve that Asher is on friendly terms with Elisabeta and, surprise, surprise, he might be the third person who moved from New Orleans with them to form a new coven.”

  “Where did this information come from?”

  “I saw him with Celeste on the way home from lunch. Strange, right?”

  “Where did you see them?” Jack was agitated once again. Arms folded, he paced the small room.

  “After lunch I took a quick drive around the Commons.”

  “That’s an odd way to come from the wharf.”

  She shrugged, face hot. Busted. “Just had a feeling something wasn’t right, so I did a quick check. You always tell me to trust my instincts. At Elisabeta’s place I spotted Asher climbing up from the basement and into the house by the front door. Cat liked him, which means he lives there. Probably. The cat was hostile to Brandy and me.”

  “Charlene,” Jack growled.

  “Sorry. Remember the tall man running down the street? Well, that could’ve been Asher as well as Orpheus. And maybe it was Alaric who contacted Patrick, but I think it was Orpheus.”

  His brow arched. “Brandy questioned him, you said, and he told her under her spell that he did not kill Alaric.”

  Charlene nodded. “Orpheus was ticked off that day at Alaric for betraying the coven—but not furious. Still, something is giving me that tingle that there’s more to it.”

  “We’ve talked about this before. A murderer isn’t going to blink over telling a lie that will save him from jail. Tingles or no tingles. Doesn’t happen.”

  With an eye roll, Charlene continued, “Patrick described Orpheus’s diamond earrings to a T, which is why even though Orpheus may not have killed Alaric, I’d bet money he was the one who contacted him about the tour.”

  “So we’re back to Orpheus.” Jack scratched his head.

  “What if he was able to get past Brandy’s spell? He is the most logical candidate for being the murderer.” She studied the area rug on her floor as if the answer was in the floral pattern. “Then again, I strongly feel that Elisabeta, Asher, and Alaric were all working together, and then something went wrong.”