by Leigh Perry
“As a matter of fact, it closed early,” I said. “There was an incident. A woman was killed.”
Roxanne went from disconsolate to panicked. “My friend Linda was working there tonight. It wasn’t her, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t any of the people working at the haunt. It was a customer named Kendall Fitzroy.”
“Oh, good,” she said, and sank back into her chair.
I’d felt the same when finding out that Madison was safe, though I was expecting her to add something like Oh, but I’m so sorry that woman is dead.
Instead it was, “If anything happened to Linda, I’d never finish my dissertation.”
Mom winced, but said, “I’m glad your friend is safe. Here, let me get your jacket.” In a moment, she had Roxanne out of the house.
“Wow,” I said. “Was I that oblivious when I was working on my dissertation?”
“I think Roxanne has a special gift for being oblivious,” she said.
“What’s her dissertation on, anyway? Since when does a literature student need numbers crunched?”
“She’s comparing word use and evolution of language across a number of Romantic Era poets. It’s fascinating work and she has mounds of data, but has never been able to put it together in any useful way. I gather that this girl Linda is a gonzo statistician.” She waved it away. “Enough of that. Come tell me what happened at the Howl.”
While I told her, Phil started puttering around the kitchen, and soon a grilled ham and cheese sandwich and a soda appeared in front of me.
“Phil, you didn’t have to do that. I should be taking care of you—you two must be jet-lagged out of your minds.”
“Not a bit of it,” he said. “I’ve traveled so much the past year that I never worry about what time zone I’m in anymore, and I’m delighted to have my kitchen back. Now eat up before it gets cold.”
“I respect you too much to argue,” I said, and dug in.
Some people would have bristled at suddenly having “their” kitchen reclaimed, but I admit to a complete lack of territoriality over cooking. I’m not a bad cook, and I do my best to keep Madison fed appropriate nutrients, but it’s because it’s part of my job, not because I particularly enjoy it. Phil, on the other hand, has always loved cooking and admitted one of his favorite parts about Madison’s and my visits home was having people other than my mother and mooching grad students to feed.
Just as I finished eating, the door opened and Madison and Deborah came in. A bevy of hugging ensued.
“Any word about Sid?” I asked after we disengaged.
Deborah shook her head. “If they’ve found him, Louis didn’t mention it to me. We may have lucked out.”
“I wanted to go back and get him,” Madison said, “but Aunt Deborah said we couldn’t.”
“The police wouldn’t even let the crew get their street clothes,” Deborah explained. “All they would let them do is get things like keys and wallets and phones, and they watched us the whole time. There was no way to sneak out a skeleton.”
“It won’t hurt him to spend the night in whatever hiding place he’s found,” I assured Madison.
She looked as happy about it as I felt, which was not very, but Deborah knows the best way to distract teenagers. She said, “Anything to eat around here? I’m starved.”
“Coming right up,” Phil said happily, and got busy grilling more sandwiches.
“What happened after Phil and I left?” I asked.
“Not much. It turns out some of my people knew the girl, but nobody saw anything that would help the cops.”
“The awful thing is that I realized that I knew her, too,” Madison said. “Or at least I met her. Her younger sister Bianca is part of choral ensemble and Kendall came to our Christmas show last year.”
Madison was sitting between Mom and me, and we both reached over to offer hugs. Phil delivered a sandwich just then, too, which may have been more on point for a tired teenager.
“This is great, G-Dad,” Madison said between bites. “So was that story you told the cops. How did you come up with it that fast?”
“Phil has years of study from all the excuses he’s been given for why papers haven’t been graded on time,” Mom said affectionately.
“Of course it usually isn’t a good idea to lie to the police,” I said, realizing that we might not be setting the best example for my daughter. “Not that I’m saying that Phil did anything wrong, but this was a very unusual circumstance. You get that, right?”
“Yes, Mom,” she said, and I knew she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
Deborah showed no such restraint, and followed an excellent demonstration of eye-rolling by saying, “Now that we’ve enjoyed our teachable moment, maybe we should make some plans. Once Sid gets back, you know he’s going to want to involve himself in this murder.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell him that the cops have got this one. They’ve got a body to work with, and Sid wasn’t a witness, so there’s no reason to interfere. I know the last thing you want is for him to be messing around McHades Hall. Right?”
“Wrong. I want Sid on the job. And you, too.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I want you guys to investigate the murder.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?”
Though Deborah had come through for me when I needed her help the other times I’d stuck my nose into police work, she’d made it plain that she’d have been considerably happier if I’d stayed out of it.
“Here’s the thing,” she said. “I was watching the cops mill around after you left, and it’s pretty obvious that they think the guy in the Scooby suit was involved. I’m not blaming you or Sid—”
“Thanks so much.”
“I said I’m not blaming you, all right! But you and I both know the police wouldn’t be going in that direction if it weren’t for them thinking a nonexistent thief snuck out of the haunt.”
“Doesn’t that make it my fault?” Phil said mildly. “Should I have come up with a different explanation?”
“No, Dad, you were great. If it weren’t for you, the police would be leaning on Georgia, trying to find out who she rented that costume for. Now she’s safe, but the police aren’t going to be able to find the real killer.”
“You don’t know that,” I said.
“I know every minute they spend searching for Scooby is a minute wasted. Look, Georgia, I’m not asking you to do anything you haven’t done before.”
“Ahem!” I said, looking at our parents.
Phil and Mom started one of their silent conversations, the kind made up of lifted eyebrows and significant glances that had infuriated Deborah and me while we were growing up. In fact, they still infuriated me.
“Georgia,” Mom said gently, “we don’t have all the details, but we do know that your recent research projects haven’t been entirely academic.”
“You do?” I said, eyeing both my sister and my daughter speculatively.
Before I could decide who’d spilled the beans, Deborah said, “Look, it’s late and we’re all tired. Just think it over, okay?”
Phil yawned pointedly. That started a round of yawns, and I knew I’d been outmaneuvered for the time being.
“Fine,” I said. “We’ll talk after we get Sid back.”
But after Deborah left and the rest of us got ready for bed, I started thinking that there might be something my sister wasn’t telling me. Plus, despite what I’d told Madison, I couldn’t help worrying about Sid. I’d charged my phone as soon as I got home, but there’d been no word from him. Where was he, anyway? Was he okay?
It took me forever to get to sleep.
6
The phone woke me considerably earlier the next morning than I wanted to get up, given the night before. I was scrambling to answer
it when I realized it hadn’t rung a second time. Since Madison didn’t have a landline in her room, I concluded that it had been a wrong number and the caller had given up. I punched my pillow into the proper shape and would have fallen asleep again had there not been a knock on the bedroom door.
“Georgia?” my mother said. “Deborah needs to talk to you.”
Right. Mom and Phil were back. I grabbed my phone, and politely said, “What do you want?”
“I’m on my way over to the haunt.”
“You aren’t opening tonight, are you?”
“Are you awake yet? Of course we’re not opening tonight—it’s an active crime scene and they’re still doing all that forensics stuff. Once that’s done, Detective Raymond here wants me to walk him through the place, to show him how we operate. Then he should be able to let the cast come pick up their personal belongings. I thought you might want to bring Madison over to pick up her things.”
“You mean I’ll be able to get Sid, right?”
“Sure, if she left her school books here, she can pick them up, too.”
“School books? What are you—? Wait, is Louis right there listening?”
“Obviously.”
“Okay. What time should we be over there?”
“Sometime this afternoon, maybe one or two. I’ll call when I know for sure.”
“One or—” I looked at the clock. “Deborah, it’s eight o’clock in the morning. Why did you call me so early?”
“No, no trouble at all.”
She hung up before I could tell her what a miserable piece of sacrum she was, so I hung up my own phone and rolled back over, determined to get some more sleep.
Until I smelled bacon cooking.
I cannot fathom how anybody could have slept after that tantalizing scent wafted through the house. After five minutes of trying to resist, I gave up, took a quick shower, put on my Saturday loafing jeans and a Boston University sweatshirt, and made my way downstairs to find Phil once again at the stove.
“You really did miss cooking, didn’t you?” I said.
“Tremendously. How do pancakes and bacon sound?”
“As good as they smell.”
“I was going to make omelets, but there weren’t enough eggs. There’s not much maple syrup, either.”
“I was planning to shop today,” I said a little defensively.
“No problem. Your mother went to the grocery store to stock up. Oh, she had to take your car because we haven’t picked ours up yet. Is that all right?”
“Sure,” I said, trying not to sound annoyed. “It’s low on gas, but there should be enough—”
“Don’t worry, she’ll fill up the tank on the way back. Now if you’ll set the table, I’ll have the pancakes ready in a couple of minutes.”
I saw that Byron was in his favorite spot under the table, hoping that somebody would drop some food, and it seemed plain that he’d already adjusted to having Mom and Phil around.
“I should get Madison up to tend to the dog,” I said.
“Oh, let her sleep. I took him for a quick walk when I got up.”
“It’s okay to wake her to take care of him, Phil. She knows Byron is her responsibility.”
“I don’t mind.”
I made a mental note to remind Madison that she was not to take advantage of my father’s willingness to help. Of course, I’d be more convincing if I weren’t eating a batch of Phil’s pancakes at the time.
Despite his apologies that he was off his game, I’d made it through a stack of them plus accompanying bacon when Mom got back with vast quantities of groceries, and it took all three of us to put it all away.
“Are you planning to feed an army?” I asked.
“I remember how much teenagers eat, and I expect Roxanne will be coming around.”
“Funny how often grad students show up near mealtimes. Which reminds me, I should write you a check for Madison’s and my share.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Mom said. “You can buy the next load.”
Phil took advantage of the additional available ingredients to make omelets, despite my insistence that I’d already had plenty to eat. I only ate mine to keep from hurting his feelings.
Afterward, as we sat sated at the table, I said, “You know I’m really glad you two are back, but it did catch me by surprise. I haven’t even started looking for a place for Madison and me yet.”
Mom said, “Your father and I were talking about that last night, Georgia, and there’s no rush. In fact, maybe we should consider making this a permanent solution. After all, the house was big enough for all of us when Madison was a baby.”
“Are you sure about that?” I said. “Teenager Madison takes up a lot more space than infant Madison. Plus we’ve got the dog now.”
Byron, who is no dummy, picked that moment to lean lovingly against Phil, who patted him and said, “Oh, Byron is no trouble at all.”
“Well as long as we divide up the housework—and the expenses—I’m willing to give it a shot, but if you start to feel crowded or taken advantage of, speak up immediately!”
Mom patted my hand. “I’m sure things will work out just fine.”
“Sounds great,” I said, but I wasn’t completely sanguine. I’d known a fair number of people in my generation who’d had to move back in with their parents for financial reasons—it was distressingly common among adjuncts—but I hadn’t known any who’d enjoyed the process. Still, I was going to need a new set of tires on my car before winter set in, and if Madison and I could stand to share a house with my parents for even a month or two, it would help my bottom line quite a bit.
Since Mom had taken care of the grocery shopping, I got started on laundry. Madison eventually woke up, and after Phil fed her, I took her aside to tell her about the idea of sharing the house.
I was expecting a little pushback, since it had been just the two of us for most of her life, and adding Sid to the mix had required some adjustment. But she said, “Makes sense to me.”
“You’re sure?”
“It’ll take a lot of the burden off of you if we don’t have to move, so why not?”
“Sweetie, my job is to make life easier for you, not the other way around.”
“I know, but seriously, the house is big enough for all of us, and you get along with G-Mom and G-Dad. Now if it were Aunt Deborah—”
“Don’t even go there,” I said. “Speaking of my beloved sister . . .”
“Please don’t tell me you two are feuding.”
“We don’t feud. We just disagree some of the time.”
“As in all the time.”
“Some of the time,” I insisted. After all, 99 percent of the time still counted as “some,” and Deborah and I weren’t that bad. I explained the plan for us to head to the haunt to get her things and retrieve Sid. “Are you okay with that?”
“Sure,” she said. “I didn’t have anything planned for today other than working at the haunt, and that’s not happening.”
“I mean are you okay with going back to McHades Hall after what happened there?”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to go there alone in the middle of the night, but otherwise, it’s no problem. I am just as glad I didn’t see the body.”
“I could have done without seeing her myself,” I said, though it hadn’t been my first dead body. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about being able to say that. “Anyway, are you sure about going over there?”
“Mom, I go to PHS every day, and there was a murder, an attack, and an abduction there last year.”
“True,” I said, “but if you change your mind or want to talk to your therapist again, just let me know.”
“Will do,” she said. “What about you?”
“Wait, I’m the mother. I’m supposed to ask these things.”
&
nbsp; “I could call G-Mom and get her to ask.”
Phil, who wandered through the living room at that point, cleared his throat.
“Or G-Dad,” Madison said.
“I’m fine. Living with a walking, talking dead guy takes a lot of the scare out of it.”
“I get that, but I meant going to McHades when you’ve got a thing about haunted houses. What’s the story with that, anyway?”
Fortunately the phone rang, so I was able to dodge the conversational bullet.
“Thackery residence,” I answered.
“It’s Deborah. The police say people can come get their belongings now. Be sure to bring something big enough to carry all Madison’s stuff.”
“Message received.” I hung up the phone and said, “Time to go get Sid.”
7
Though it was just past one in the afternoon and the night’s Halloween Howl festivities weren’t due to start until four, there were more people out and about on the McQuaid quad than usual for a Saturday afternoon. A small horde of physical plant people and student volunteers were gathering debris and emptying trash cans, trying to get the grounds cleaned up before they all got messed up again.
The front door to McHades Hall was striped with yellow crime-scene tape, and there were signs that said Closed until further notice on the ticket tent and the front entrance. An extremely bored-looking Pennycross police officer was stationed at the door.
“Hi. My daughter works here and we were told she could come claim her belongings.”
“Can I see some identification?” she asked.
I pulled out my driver’s license and Madison handed over her student ID. The officer radioed somebody, gave our names, then handed back our cards. “You’re clear.”
“Is the press causing problems?”
She nodded, looking disgusted. “We gave them everything we could, and they still want to poke around. Head in and somebody will escort you to the greenroom.”
That wasn’t good to hear. I didn’t know how we’d be able to sneak Sid out with a police officer in attendance.
