Vampires, Bones and Treacle Scones

by Kaitlyn Dunnett

  Dan eased away from the sink and took the basket away from her.

  She let him have it. Who was she to object to gallantry?

  “Or you could talk to Jason Graye.”

  Side by side, they headed for the stairs. Glenora trailed along behind them.

  “Why?” Liss asked as she climbed to the second floor.

  “Simple. If he wants to buy the place, you can bet he’s already done his research.”

  “You’re assuming Graye didn’t kill Ned.”

  “It shouldn’t be too hard to find out if he has an alibi for the time of Ned’s murder. And once you eliminate him as a suspect, even if you don’t have another, you’ll still be ahead of the game.”

  “I have to admit that’s a good idea.” Liss was a little embarrassed not to have thought of it herself. She took the laundry basket back once they entered their bedroom, but her mind was still on murder while she put clothing away in drawers, automatically getting everything in the right place. “And you’re right. It shouldn’t be difficult. There were lots of people around on Halloween. Surely someone can vouch for Jason Graye’s whereabouts before he turned up at the haunted house and helped us keep the murder under wraps until the next day.”

  Liss had forgotten one thing. On Halloween, just about everyone had been wearing a costume.

  “Jason was dressed as a vampire,” Angie Hogencamp told her on Monday morning.

  Liss had decided to make her first stop the apartment above the book store, knowing that Angie would be up early to get her kids off to school. In fact, she’d found Angie downstairs. The shop was closed, but she was already hard at work on book orders in her minuscule office at the back.

  “So was I,” Angie added. “So was Gloria Weir. There were vampires everywhere!”

  “Not what I wanted to hear.” Perched on a stool in Angie’s closet-sized office, Liss tried for details, but Angie’s memories of Halloween were vague and unhelpful.

  “It was months ago,” she protested. “I’m lucky to remember who I saw yesterday.”

  Liss sighed and stared out the postage-stamp-size window, seeking inspiration. Angie’s Books was located on the northwest corner of the town square, on Main Street. Its front windows had a view along Ash Street, which actually dead-ended at that corner. But just to the west, Elm Street began, running north toward the health clinic and Dr. Sharon’s office. Angie’s side windows, including the one Liss was staring through, looked out across Elm. Angie could see the garage entrance into the former funeral home from the shop and, standing where she was now, looking directly across Elm Street, Liss had a clear view of what had once been Locke Insurance and was now Ye Olde Hobbie Shoppe.

  “Have you ever caught a glimpse of Gloria’s houseguest?” she asked abruptly.

  “Nope. Never have.” Angie didn’t look up from her computer screen. “I’m not convinced she exists.”

  Liss stood and approached the small window. There was no snow left in Angie’s small side yard or in front of Gloria’s shop. “You can’t see her back yard from here.” Hadn’t Gloria said that her aunt walked there for exercise? Or was it that the aunt didn’t venture outdoors, not even that far? Liss couldn’t remember.

  “She doesn’t have much land,” Angie said. “The credit union is on the other side of her building and the paved area by their drive up window comes within a couple yards of Gloria’s place. Truth be told, I’m surprised she’s still living above the store. She can afford to buy a separate residence.”

  “Can she?” Liss turned away from the window to find Angie watching her, her head cocked like a bird keeping its eye on a worm. “I didn’t think Gloria was particularly wealthy. None of the obvious signs are there. No expensive jewelry. No designer clothing. On the surface, she doesn’t appear to be any better off than anyone else in town.”

  “Looks can be deceiving, Then again, so can words, but she told me once that she’s a trust fund baby.” Angie shrugged. “Maybe she has to wait for the great aunt to kick the bucket before she comes into the really big bucks.”

  “If there is a great aunt,” Liss muttered.

  Angie chuckled. “What wild scenario are you dreaming up now?”

  “What I’m thinking is pretty crazy,” Liss admitted. “I was wondering if auntie is really a man.”

  “You think Gloria is having a hot love affair? Hiding a boy toy in her back bedroom?” Angie hooted with laughter.

  “Not a lover. Maybe Flo is really her great-uncle.” Liss held up a hand to ward off further derisive laughter from Angie while she tried to work out what she did mean. “Say he was someone who’d been in prison until recently. Gloria told me that her aunt had plastic surgery after an accident. Maybe it was an uncle who had his face done, and he went under the knife so that he’d look radically different from the way he did back when he was committing crimes.”

  “And the point of that would be . . . ?” Angie had abandoned her paperwork and sat with both elbows propped up on a pile of publishers’ catalogues, her hands fisted beneath her chin. She had the same bright-eyed, anticipatory look in her eyes that Liss had often seen on her daughter’s face.

  Unfortunately, even Liss’s active imagination could not come up with a good answer. “Maybe the ex-criminal uncle came to town looking for Blackie O’Hare’s treasure.”

  “Yeah, right. Assuming he really exists—which is a stretch—how would he even hear about it?”

  “I guess there’s only one way to find out. I need to talk to Gloria.” Suiting action to words, Liss headed for the door.

  At the hobby shop, as there was at the Emporium, an outside staircase led to the apartment on the second floor. Liss trotted up the steps and knocked. Gloria flicked aside the curtain that covered the inside of the small round window in the door. When she recognized Liss, she frowned. After a moment’s hesitation, she opened up.

  “Kind of early for a visit, isn’t it?”

  The kitchen smelled of bacon and burnt toast. Two plates, bits of egg still clinging to them, sat in the sink, but of Gloria’s great-aunt, Liss saw no other sign.

  “I wanted to catch you before you went out.” Liss ignored Gloria’s less-than-welcoming attitude. “I’m sure you’ve heard that Boxer’s mother has been arrested for Ned’s murder.”

  Gloria nodded. The wariness in her eyes ratcheted up a fraction.

  Liss suspected the aunt/uncle thing was probably no more than a flight of fancy on her part. On the other hand, everyone was a potential suspect, even Gloria.

  She chose her next words carefully. “I promised Boxer I’d ask questions.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as, did you see Hilary Snipes the afternoon Ned Boyd was murdered?”

  “I don’t even know what she looks like.”

  “She’s the skinny brunette who works at the High Street Market.”

  “The mousy-looking one?” At Liss’s nod, Gloria shook her head. “I didn’t notice her that day. Then again, it was Halloween. Everyone was in costume. You know—with masks.”

  Had Hilary dressed up? Liss wondered. Clearly, she hadn’t provided the police with an alibi for the time of Ned’s death. That meant she hadn’t been at work. Even though the aisles of the grocery store had been empty the evening Liss had talked to Hilary there, it was rare that High Street Market didn’t have at least one customer.

  “She could have been one of the vampires,” Gloria offered.

  “I hear there were plenty of Dracula wannabes in town for the occasion.”

  Gloria relaxed enough to chuckle. “Isn’t that the truth!”

  “Here’s the thing, Gloria. As a member of the committee, you must have been paying close attention to details that day.”

  “I was in charge of the costume parade,” Gloria reminded her. “I was working with little kids.”

  “Damn.” Liss had known that, but she’d forgotten, what with everything else that had been going on. “So I guess you don’t remember seeing Jason Graye? He was dressed a
s a vampire, too.”

  Gloria huffed out an exasperated breath. “Oh, I remember him all right. That man is a huge pain in the butt. That day, at the last minute, he insisted on being one of the judges. He just wanted to get his picture in the paper. It was so obvious.”

  Gloria, Liss recalled, hadn’t hesitated to hold a “press conference” on her own initiative after the murder. She bit back a snide comment about pots and kettles.

  “So Graye was there all afternoon? In the town square?”

  “I couldn’t get rid of him,” Gloria complained. “Not even after all the prizes had been handed out. It wasn’t until it started to get dark that I had a brainstorm and told him to go out to the mansion and see if you needed any help. I was hoping that would get him out of my hair for a while.” She sent a quick, apologetic look Liss’s way.

  “Was he reluctant to go?”

  “Not at all. As things turned out, it was a good thing I sent him. To give credit where credit’s due, he did some fast thinking when he saw all those police cars arriving on the scene. When the chief of police told him that somebody was dead inside the mansion, he came up with the idea of telling people there was an electrical problem. Let’s face it, hearing that there was a real dead body in the haunted house would not have helped our fundraising effort.”

  The upshot was that Jason Graye had an alibi. He was off the hook for Ned’s murder.

  “Was there anything else you wanted?” Gloria looked impatient to be rid of her uninvited company.

  That she’d not offered Liss coffee or other sustenance, or even a chair, had made that plain from the start, but seeing how antsy Gloria was only reinforced Liss’s suspicions. The woman clearly had something to hide.

  “I am curious about one other thing. Was it your great-aunt who phoned the town office to ask about buying the Chadwick mansion?”

  “What? Of course not! Why would she?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you. Someone named Greeley wanted to know the asking price.”

  Gloria started to speak, stopped, scowled, and abruptly excused herself to storm out of the kitchen. Liss hesitated only a moment before she followed. Her quarry had gone no farther than the adjacent living room.

  One quick look at Flo Greeley convinced Liss that her wild speculations had been way off base. The woman squaring off against Gloria, hands on generous hips and head tilted back in order to meet her niece’s eyes, was short, squat, and stacked. A thin white scar bisected one cheek, coming perilously close to her left eye.

  “What were you thinking?” Gloria demanded.

  The older woman gave as good as she got. “We need a house. One away from the center of town. This apartment is too small. So is the lot it’s built on. And, frankly, you’re starting to get on my nerves!”

  “Then move out. I like this place. It’s convenient.”

  “That’s exactly what I plan to do, with or without you. Why else have I been talking to real estate agents?”

  “So you were the Greeley who phoned the town office?” Liss interrupted.

  Two identical pairs of green eyes glared at her.

  “Yes,” Flo Greeley admitted after a beat. “What’s it to you?”

  “Just tying up a loose end,” Liss assured her. Fierce as Gloria’s Aunt Flo appeared to be, Liss could not imagine her stabbing Ned in the neck. For one thing, she’d have had to stand on top of the three-step stepladder just to reach that high.

  Liss hoped to catch Jason Graye before he left for his office in Fallstown, but she was too late. The detached garage next to Graye’s small Cape Cod cottage on the corner of Pine and Lowe, just a block distant from the town square, was open and empty.

  She stood for a moment, studying Graye’s lot. The house and lawn were well cared for but somehow the property lacked character. Liss had been equally underwhelmed with the interior décor the one time she’d been invited inside. The furniture and accessories had been nice enough, and undoubtedly expensive, but the house lacked the lived-in warmth that made a mere residence into a home.

  The chairs hadn’t been very comfortable, either.

  By the time Liss returned to her own cozy domain, she’d made a decision. Dan was right. It was a good bet that if an inventory of the contents of the Chadwick mansion existed, Graye had a copy. He was meticulous in his real estate dealings, even if he wasn’t precisely honest. Besides, with a trip down to Fallstown, she could kill two birds with one stone. She had to do her weekly grocery shopping sometime, didn’t she?

  Less than an hour later, Liss parked in the small, secluded lot behind Graye’s Real Estate. She grimaced as she got out of the car and hit the button on her keychain to lock it. The last time she’d left a car there, it hadn’t made it safely home with her. Her trusty old PT Cruiser had gone off the road and into the river, sinking to the bottom. She’d almost gone with it.

  That, however, had not been Jason Graye’s fault. She marched around to the front of the small building and into the reception area.

  It was much as she remembered it from her previous visit more than two years earlier. The young woman sitting at the desk was different, but the hanging ferns and African violets looked the same. So did the computer, printer, and fax machine. Graye did not appear to have upgraded.

  “Help you?” the receptionist drawled. Behind oversized glasses, her pale blue eyes were at half mast.

  On a nearby table, a drip pot had yet to fill the waiting carafe with coffee, although the smell of it already pervaded the office. In Liss’s opinion, that aroma made a nice change from the previous receptionist’s pungent perfume. “My name is Liss Ruskin,” she announced. “I’d like to speak to Mr. Graye about a house in Moosetookalook.”

  Now that she was there, details of her earlier dealings with the real estate broker came back to her. She remembered that he’d given her the card of an associate—an auctioneer specializing in the contents of old houses. Oh, yes, Liss thought. If Graye didn’t have a copy of the Chadwick inventory, he’d definitely know how to lay hands on one.

  “Liss!” A smarmy smile stretched Graye’s thin lips wide. He’d obviously heard her speak and recognized her voice, because he hadn’t given the young woman time to announce her. He stood in the door of the inner office, beaming at her in what he probably thought of as an avuncular manner.

  “So,” he said, waving her toward the chair in front of his desk, “what can I do for you this fine spring morning?”

  It was spring, Liss realized with a start, and had been for over a week. In a few more days, five months would have passed since Ned’s death.

  Time to fish or cut bait.

  She didn’t sit down. “I only need a moment of your time. I—”

  “Looking to sell out, are you? That house of yours will bring in a tidy sum now that the renovations are complete. Storefront on the first floor. Apartment on the second. I can offer you—”

  She pointed to her mouth. “Read my lips. I’m not here to sell anything.”

  “Buying, then? I can—”

  “I’m not here to buy, either.”

  He stopped smiling and took a step closer. Since he was only an inch or two taller than she was, this failed to intimidate Liss, but it did annoy her. He was invading her personal space. “Back off,” she snapped.

  Graye held his ground for a moment longer as if he needed to assert his ability to dominate the situation. Then he retreated behind his desk and settled into a well-padded swivel chair. He leaned back and once again gestured at the seating opposite him, a much less comfortable-looking piece of furniture.

  “Why don’t you sit down and tell me why you are here.”

  Liss was tempted to rest her palms on the desk and lean in until they were eye-to-eye but she caught herself in time. She’d come to ask a favor. That meant she had to play nice, no matter how big a jerk Jason Graye was. She sat down and crossed her legs at the knee. The smile she pasted on her face was every bit as phony as his.

  “Are you s
till interested in buying the Chadwick mansion?” she asked.

  He tented his fingers on his chest. “Possibly. If the price is right.”

  “Would I be correct in assuming that you’ve already checked into the property, and the contents of the house, fairly thoroughly?”

  “If you’re asking whether I’ve been able to examine everything for myself at my leisure, the answer is no. You thwarted my efforts before Halloween. Then the police put the place off limits. Twice. Since then, Thea Campbell has gone out of her way to be . . . difficult.”

  Good for Ms. Campbell, Liss thought. “That’s too bad. But I know how thorough you are. You must have done a lot of research if you were considering buying the place. And you were a member of the board of selectmen when the town acquired the property.”

  “I was. If I hadn’t been, the place would have been mine long before this. I’ve been through it once—the briefest of surveys—in company with the other selectmen. After that I was told it would be a conflict of interest for the town to sell it to me while I still held elected office.”

  “How fortunate for you that you were voted out.”

  Her thinly veiled sarcasm earned her a fulminating look, but Graye didn’t pursue the point. “What exactly are you fishing for, Liss?”

  “Information.” Changing her mind, she rested her palms on the top of his desk. “There’s been a suggestion made that my cousin was stealing antiques from the mansion before he was killed. I’d like to either prove or disprove that theory. To do so, I need to know what was in the mansion to start with. Was an inventory made when Blackie O’Hare’s wife died?”

  A flash of surprise crossed Graye’s face and was quickly gone, replaced by a look Liss could only interpret as calculating. He swiveled slowly back and forth in his chair as if the movement aided his thought processes. “Well, well, well,” he murmured after a few moments of silent contemplation. “It appears that I have something you want.”