by Krista Davis
Elaborate yet tasteful floral curtains with a bold yellow background swagged across the windows. Pale yellow walls provided a backdrop for what appeared to be family portraits, including one of my mother as a child, holding a cocker spaniel. A window seat bore bright blue cushions, and a love seat was clad in the same cheerful fabric as the curtains. A Ouija board sat on a rather modern ottoman-style table that was clad in a coordinating yellow and white lattice print. Two additional chairs did seem a bit older and stuffier in style, but their faded blue fabric bore faint yellow roses that suited the room. A small table between them held an aged book.
I felt a little bit ashamed, actually. I had never given any thought to Aunt Birdie’s financial situation. What did she live off of? This wasn’t the time to ask. Oma would surely know.
“Uh, Miss Dupuy?” said Felix. “You haven’t been playing with that Ouija board, have you?”
“You ask that as though it were a bad thing, young man.”
Felix shook his head. “You really shouldn’t do that, Miss Dupuy. You don’t know who you’ll get with a Ouija board. You could accidentally open the door to dark spirits.”
He sounded so earnest. It was really very sweet.
Birdie rambled on about my great-great-grandparents and how she sometimes heard sounds at night in the sitting room. “Oh, here’s Elmer now.”
I gazed around the room. I didn’t see anyone. Not even a mist or an orb.
“Miss Dupuy, are you by any chance a sensitive?”
Aunt Birdie beamed. “Yes, Felix. I have seen ghosts since I was a child. Don’t you see Elmer? He’s over there by the table with the book.”
We turned to look in that direction, and for absolutely no reason the book flew to the floor.
Twenty
I gasped and scanned the area. None of us were anywhere near close enough to have influenced the book. It hadn’t slid down. It hadn’t fallen off. It had flown about three feet as though it had been tossed.
“Now, now, Elmer. Don’t be upset. I’m sure they appreciated your effort to move the book.” Aunt Birdie smiled at us. “Your great-great-grandfather always was a rascal. He hates it when people can’t see him. He was a lawyer, and you know how they like to be the center of attention.”
Uh-oh. Either Aunt Birdie had lost her marbles or she was as bad as Brian. Did she know how to rig a book so it would fly off a table? I stood perfectly still. I didn’t feel anything moving—no motors or anything that might have jiggled the book. I eyed the little table. Could it be at a slant?
Grayson could hardly contain himself. “Oh, man! That was so cool. We have to come back at night. Would that be okay? Maybe we could shoot a second episode of the TV show? Whadda ya think, Felix? We have to talk with Luciano!”
“Mr. Luciano?” asked Aunt Birdie. “A rather distinguished gentleman? Snappy dresser? Has a bulldog?”
Well, well, well. Aunt Birdie certainly had noticed Mr. Luciano about town. Maybe I could introduce them and Birdie would focus her energy on Luciano instead of me. Only a month ago, Birdie, Oma, and Rose had tried to set me up. I shuddered at the memory. None of their attempts went very well, and it had been horribly embarrassing. Yet here I was thinking about doing the very same thing. I consoled myself by imagining it might be genetic.
I pulled myself together, picked the book up off the floor, and examined it. Bound in worn red leather with fancy scrolls that showed wear from age, the cover had been embossed with the names Elmer and Lisette Dupuy. I turned it over. No signs of wires or anything that might have launched it from the table. My eyes met Felix’s.
He mashed his lips together, then said, “Just like in the castle.”
Birdie frowned at us. “I suppose that’s Elmer’s way of telling me it’s time I passed his journal on to you, Holly. It’s not terribly interesting. Elmer was a decent but excruciatingly boring man. Still, he kept records. Lisette drew some sketches and stashed a few family photographs in it. I have a few other items to pass along to you as well.”
The second Birdie left the room, Felix and Grayson descended on the book and examined the table.
I watched them, but they didn’t come up with any cogent explanations for the flying book, either.
Aunt Birdie bustled into the room carrying a stack of ancient books. She handed them to me. “Take good care of these. They are the history of your family. If it weren’t for me, we wouldn’t have anything to hand on.”
“Thank you, Aunt Birdie.” Why did I have a funny suspicion she was really cleaning her house? No matter. I was glad to have them. And I would hand them on eventually, too. Maybe sooner than she thought, if I could dump them on my half siblings.
“Now then, about Mr. Luciano and your TV show—” Birdie stopped and turned to me. “Well? What are you still doing here?”
“I beg your pardon?” What was she upset about now?
“The flowers for their graves. Didn’t you hear what I said? I want fresh flowers on those graves tonight when people view the cemetery. I will not have anyone thinking that the Dupuys don’t honor their dead.”
Hadn’t she claimed my presence would bring out the spirits? But any excuse to leave sounded good to me. “I’ll take care of it immediately. See you later.”
I was hightailing it for the front door when it dawned on me that she would hate whatever I chose. I dashed back to the sitting room. “Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt. Which florist do you prefer, Aunt Birdie?”
Her bitter expression changed for once. Evidently she was thrilled that I had asked her advice. I made a mental note that she liked being asked for her opinion. Even if I didn’t follow her suggestions, it might be beneficial to ask for guidance once in a while.
“Catnip and Bark,” she said.
I waved and left so fast that my tailwind probably blew the ghosts out of the premises.
It was a gorgeous fall day. The nip in the air was as crisp as a ripe apple. I longed to be outside, but I hurried back to the inn, afraid to be away too long when I should be working.
I needn’t have been concerned. Zelda, Oma, and Rose were chatting in Oma’s office over tea and coffee. The sun shone through the French doors. Twinkletoes and Mrs. Mewer had stretched out in a sunbeam and didn’t even twitch an ear when I entered.
Trixie and Casper jumped to their feet and greeted me like they hadn’t seen me in years. I deposited the handful of books on the desk and squatted to pet the dogs.
While the dogs were happy, Oma, Rose, and Zelda wore worried expressions. “What happened? Why so glum?”
Oma’s lips drew tight. “Officer Dave paid Zelda a visit.”
Zelda cringed and bit into an éclair.
I guessed it had to happen sooner or later.
Zelda swallowed hard. “He was asking questions about the night Mallory died.” She waved her forefinger as she spoke. “I knew she didn’t drown by accident. I’ve been in that bath. It’s like a big kiddie pool. There are deeper public fountains everywhere.”
Rose shot Oma a fearful look. “It was an accident. Why won’t Dave accept that?” She glared at me. “You too, Holly. Why can’t the two of you concede that Mallory drowned on her own, without help from anyone else?”
I could feel the color rising in my face. “What if Holmes drowned in less than two feet of water in Chicago, and they wrote off his death as an accident?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. That would never happen. And if it did, I’d be right there in a flash, demanding to know what had”—Rose’s voice faded—“happened.”
“Mallory was an orphan.” I just let it hang there in the air.
“Now you’re making me feel terrible. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t an accident. I trust Doc.”
At least Rose wasn’t glaring at me anymore. I eyed the selection of pastries on the table, took a seat, and poured myself a mug of coffee, doctoring it with milk and suga
r. Trixie edged toward me, watching my every move, no doubt hoping for a terrible accident that would land the entire pastry tray on the floor.
“Officer Dave had the nerve to imply that I killed her out of jealousy because she was flirting with Felix. I was afraid of this. He thinks I killed Mallory!” said Zelda.
I nearly dropped my coffee mug. Mallory’s outrageous attention to Felix hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice. But to imagine that Zelda would be so angry that she would murder? Dave had gone too far. I recognized that he had to consider all the possibilities, but that seemed over the top to me.
Zelda lived with a clowder of cats. I didn’t imagine they would provide an alibi for her. “I don’t suppose you contacted anyone or sent any e-mails when you got home?”
“It was past two thirty in the morning!” Zelda put down her éclair. “I know Felix didn’t kill her. He’s much too kind. I mean, think about it. He’s the only one of them who bothered to walk us home.”
“You girls stop that now,” said Rose. “Doc is so upset with Dave for undermining him. And you too, Holly. You and Dave aren’t helping things by running around town asking questions that imply Mallory was murdered. I understand that Dave would like to do something more exciting than look for a lost dog, but honestly, you’re making people think something worse happened than is the case.”
I looked to Oma, who nodded in agreement. “Doc was very clear. There is no evidence of anything criminal.”
“It’s disrespectful, too,” said Rose. “Dave is a sweet boy, but Doc has decades of experience that shouldn’t simply be disregarded. Of course he knows more about these things than Dave.”
Like Zelda, I bit into an éclair. I happened to agree with Dave, and Rose’s little lecture didn’t change that. But I knew when to keep quiet. I would have to be more discreet in the future.
“How did the visit with Birdie go?” asked Oma.
“As well as can be expected. Oma, what does Birdie do to make a living?”
“A number of things. She’s an appraiser. Quite well-respected from what I understand.”
“Real estate?”
“No, no. Things. Objets d’art. Crystal, historical documents, jewelry, old books, old gadgets.”
“She writes columns for a few fancy magazines about that sort of thing,” said Rose. “She used to transcribe manuscripts for a local writer before computers took over.”
“I’m to take flowers to the graves of my ancestors.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” said Oma.
“I love Wagtail Cemetery!” cooed Zelda. “It’s like taking a step back in time. Except for the addition of new graves, I bet the church and cemetery haven’t changed a bit in a century.”
I glanced at her doubtfully.
“What?” asked Zelda. “A lot of people like graveyards. Wagtail’s is so cool and old-fashioned.”
Rose asked, “You are coming to the graveyard party tonight?”
“Eww. Isn’t that a little bit macabre?” I asked.
Oma groaned. “Loosen up, liebling. It’s all in good fun.”
“I believe Liesel is right. When did you become such a stick-in-the-mud, Holly?” asked Rose.
“Now just a minute. I like fun as much as anyone else. But isn’t it a little bit disrespectful to party in a cemetery?”
“It’s all the rage!” raved Zelda.
“Celebrations at cemeteries are nothing new,” said Rose. “Years ago, people gathered at cemeteries for special occasions. They even took picnics. On some days, the whole town turned out to clean up the cemetery. I think it’s wonderful that people take an interest in our cemetery. If it happens to be because of Halloween, well, that’s just fine.”
Zelda laughed. “And if a few ghosts show up, all the better!”
“Holmes will be there.” Rose shot a coy glance my way.
“Holmes is engaged. Don’t you start that again.” I hurried to change the subject. “So what’s going on here? Seems awfully quiet.”
Zelda grinned. “No one checking in or out. Not even many questions. Just a bunch of handsome ghost hunters running around.”
“You can spend some time unpacking. I hear your apartment is quite the mess.” Oma didn’t say it in a critical way, thank goodness.
“Now how would you know . . .” It came to me as I spoke. “Mr. Huckle. I think he banged into some boxes. Since it’s such a beautiful day, I think I’ll take the dogs for a walk. We can deliver the flowers to the cemetery and get it out of the way so Birdie won’t complain about it.”
But at that moment, Oma gasped, looking as though she’d seen a ghost.
Twenty-one
“I wondered where everyone was!”
We all swung around.
My old boyfriend, Ben Hathaway, loped through the doorway. His dimples flashed when he smiled at me. He would fit right in with the ghost hunters. He wore classic nerd glasses, with frames that were dark at the top and clear at the bottom. In spite of his studious appearance, he was actually fairly good-looking. He parted his dark brown hair on the right and wore it short. But like Holmes’s fiancée, he was a city person, hopelessly out of place in Wagtail.
Gingersnap wagged her tail and kissed his hand, which he promptly yanked out of her reach. Trixie backed away from him. She had no reason to do that—well, other than the fact that he thought I shouldn’t have kept her. But she couldn’t know that, could she?
“Ben!” I jumped up. “What are you doing here?”
He held up a hand in greeting to the others. “Hello. I had to drive up here for business.”
I would have been suspicious, but his very wealthy boss happened to have a fishing cabin in Wagtail. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities that Ben really did come to work.
I hustled him out to the reception desk. “Where are you staying?”
The dimples made another appearance. “Here.”
He said it with such cheery assurance that I thought he must believe he had a reservation. “But we’re booked.”
“I didn’t think I had to pay for a room. I figured I’d bunk with you.”
Oy. My head spun. “Ben, we broke up.”
“Not really.”
“Yes. Really. I packed up my life and moved here, remember?”
Two creases formed between his eyebrows as though he was perplexed. “You make a move sound so final. And anyway, we’re still friends. Right?”
Oh boy. I had never considered anything like this. Why hadn’t he called? “Well, I guess so.” It wasn’t as though we ended our relationship in a big snit. And I did have a spare bedroom in my apartment. “Okay, you can stay, but I have to warn you that I haven’t unpacked yet.” I handed him a spare key to my quarters.
Ben wrinkled his nose. “You’ve been here for days. What have you been doing?”
“Thanks, Ben,” I said sarcastically. He had just helped me remember why we broke off our relationship. I ignored the confused look on his face but I wondered how he knew when I had moved. “Did you go by my house?”
He flushed red. “Your tenant was moving in.”
Served him right. I hoped it shocked him to realize that I was gone. “Let me grab some books.”
I hustled into Oma’s office and hissed, “Did you have anything to do with this?”
Oma clutched her forehead with one hand. “Not the Ben again.”
“Don’t call him that!” I whispered. “Ben. Just Ben. Not the Ben.”
“Ja, ja. How long does he have to stay?”
Zelda grinned. “I’d forgotten how cute he is.”
“Ach, Zelda. Do not encourage her.”
I grabbed the books Aunt Birdie had given me and bustled out to Ben. “Follow me.”
When I unlocked the door to the apartment, Trixie, Twinkletoes, Casper, and Mrs. Mewer were waiting inside. They mus
t have used the pet doors to scramble up the hidden stairway. Not one of them ran to Ben.
Trixie pulled her ears back and watched with worried eyes. Twinkletoes sat on top of the tallest packing box looking quite regal with her black tail wrapped around her white front paws. I hadn’t known that sweet face could be so aloof and superior. Mrs. Mewer looked on, the turquoise mouse at her feet. Casper must have picked up on Trixie’s concern, because even he wore an unhappy expression.
“Good grief, Holly! How many animals do you have? I thought there were only two.”
“The other two are guests of the inn.” I deposited the books on a bookshelf near the fireplace and showed Ben to the extra bedroom.
“This is much better. I can deal with this. Lucky you didn’t let that mess migrate into this room, huh?”
I bristled. “Look, Ben, I’m not going to apologize. I moved a couple of days ago, and it’s been busy around here. Besides, it’s not like I was expecting company, you know.”
“It’s a good thing I came! I can unpack your stuff while I’m here.”
I had to stop myself from screaming, No, no, no! Why was I so testy with Ben? He hadn’t done anything. Okay, so maybe he’d been critical, but I could take that. Ohhh, but he hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t given me a hand with packing or moving. He hadn’t shown up to say good-bye. And now he had appeared like he thought he was a white knight riding to the rescue on his steed. I took a deep breath and exhaled. “No, thanks. This is my home. I’d rather not have to call you when I can’t find my belongings.”
“Of course. How can you stand to live in this mess?”
“Why aren’t you staying at your boss’s cabin?” Oops. That certainly sounded rude. He didn’t seen to notice, though.
“He rents it out. Apparently all of Wagtail is sold out right now. For Howloween, I guess? I saw the big sign when I rode into town.”
Rode? Hade he really said rode? I must be imagining things. “I need to take care of a little chore. Make yourself at home. There are drinks and snacks in the fridge.”
