by Krista Davis
“I think I’ll go with you, at least downstairs. Your pack doesn’t appear very friendly.”
I turned to find the two dogs and two cats sitting in a perfectly straight line just outside the door. There was no growling or hissing, but even Ben hadn’t missed their wariness.
“Don’t be so worried, guys,” I said to them.
“Okay. You don’t think they’ll bite, do you?” Ben evidently thought I had directed my assurance to him.
“They can tell you don’t like them.” Good grief! Now I sounded like Zelda. “Get whatever you need and let’s go.”
“What’s the big rush? I thought you moved here for the quiet life.” He followed me into the sitting room.
“There’s a celebration at the cemetery tonight, and I need to take some flower arrangements over before my Aunt Birdie throws a conniption fit.”
“Ugh. There’s charming chore. Is it a memorial for the girl who was murdered?”
“How did you know about that?”
“Gosh, Holly, I read newspapers, you know.”
I didn’t imagine for one minute that any of his highbrow newspapers had picked up the story of Mallory’s death. “No. It’s a Howloween thing.”
“What is this?” asked Ben. He held out the odd ball that Trixie had found at the Wagtail Springs Hotel.
“Not a clue. Trixie was carrying it around.”
“It’s kind of cool. Look, the stem that juts out is concave so it sticks to things.” He popped it on his forehead.
It wasn’t the first time he’d done something childish and fun, but it always surprised me when it happened because it was so unlike him.
“Can I have it?” he asked.
“If it’s okay with Trixie.”
He leveled a worried look at me. “Holly, she’s a dog. Her brain is the size of a walnut.”
“Oh, I think she’ll know.”
As if to prove it, she jumped high in the air as if she intended to snatch it off Ben’s forehead.
“She’s attacking me!” He stumbled backward.
“She’s playing with you. You have her toy.”
“Yeah?” He plucked it off his forehead and pitched it across the room.
Trixie ran for it and played coy when he tried to retrieve it.
“Some weird dog toy,” he said.
Before leaving the inn, I checked to be sure Gingersnap, Trixie, and Casper were wearing Sugar Maple Inn collars so we could track them if they managed to take off.
I latched leashes onto them and set out on a leisurely stroll in the perfect weather.
Ben chatted about his boss and people we knew. He acted as though nothing had happened between us. It was sufficiently comfortable, and I soon found myself laughing with him.
We quickly found Catnip and Bark. Tiers of bright flowers surrounded the front of the store, making it hard to mistake it for anything else. Ben peeled off to pursue whatever he came for, and I entered the shop with the dogs. When I explained to the proprietor that I wanted exactly what Birdie Dupuy usually ordered for the family graves, he clapped his hands and said, “You must be Holly. I’m pleased to see that you take after your grandmother’s side of the family.”
Although he didn’t come right out and say he was glad I wasn’t like Birdie, I could read between the lines and grasped the implication.
“I’ve been expecting Birdie, so everything is ready. She’s rather impatient and never phones ahead.”
“Apparently I’ll be doing this from now on. So go right on making the arrangements just as she likes them, and I’ll drop by to pay for them and pick them up.”
He nodded. “Sounds like a plan. And I don’t mind telling you, I won’t be sorry to see your smiling face instead of cantankerous Birdie.”
He disappeared to the back for a few minutes and returned pulling a giant wagon filled with flowers.
“What’s this?” I had stupidly imagined there would be two or three little vases or bouquets.
“Birdie’s standard order.”
I thanked him, looped the three leash handles over one hand, and pulled the wagon with the other. The dogs walked like a team, three abreast, as though they had known each other forever. Six blocks later, I spied the cemetery across one of the main roads that ran along the outskirts of town. I dragged the wagon across the street and up the sidewalk that led to the charming old chapel.
The white building with a steep slate roof could have been in a children’s picture book. Arched stained glass windows flanked the front door. A round stained glass window adorned the pitch just under the roof, and a small steeple acted as a bell tower. I remembered the bells ringing on Christmases before my family moved away. Giant pine trees flanked the church and dark woods provided a quiet background behind it.
The cemetery was less appealing. An old black iron fence bearing decorative spikes on top surrounded it. No one had raked the leaves recently. The gravestones varied from tall and notable pillars to some so small they were little more than the size of a book. Seemingly out of nowhere, a dark cloud covered the sun. The day grew chilly and a wind kicked up. Leaves flew through the air like whispers. If Brian were there, he would surely tell me spirits were present.
The dogs lifted their noses to sniff the scents, and without warning, Trixie barked.
I eyed the dense woods behind the church and the cemetery. I didn’t see anyone or anything unusual. She probably smelled possums or squirrels. Casper appeared to be on alert. His tail was perpendicular to the ground, and his nose was quivering.
I turned my attention to the mass of flowers and lifted the first arrangement out of the cart. Golden sunflowers and chrysanthemums melded with pumpkin orange lilies, purple liatris spikes, and stunning gaillardia with their deep rust centers and bright yellow edges.
I’d played my hand wrong with Birdie after all, because I had no idea where the graves were, nor had I realized there would be so many arrangements. From now on, maybe we would make this our little get-together. I could pull the wagon for her, and she could count this as time spent with me. Maybe that would get me out of unpleasant Saturday night dinners.
I gazed at the grim cemetery. I didn’t believe in ghosts, so why did it creep me out? The specter of death, I supposed. Sucking in a deep breath of air, I entered the ancient gate with the dogs leading the way. “To the Dupuy graves, please, puppies.”
They charged ahead, sniffing the ground.
Okay, how hard could this be? I just had to look for graves with the name Dupuy. I concentrated on the names engraved on tombstones. Richardson, Clodfelter, Pierce, Quinlan—I recognized the names of local families as I walked. No Dupuys yet.
A fierce wind blew, whipping my hair into my face. It howled through the nearly leafless trees in the cemetery. I paused, trying to wipe my hair out of my face with my arm, when Trixie and Casper pulled away from me and ran, their leashes flying through the air behind them. Gingersnap wagged her tail and gazed up at me as though she wanted to run and have fun, too. Not a chance. I grabbed her leash.
“No!” I screamed. “No!” That was probably the wrong command in a hundred different ways. “Come, Trixie!” Who was I kidding? She hadn’t been to training yet. Maybe Casper had. It was bad enough to lose my own dog, but someone else’s? That was a nightmare!
“Come, Casper! Casper, come!” He paid me no attention at all. The dogs had stopped in the back corner of the cemetery. They pawed and sniffed and dodged in circles.
Relief flooded over me. The fence. They couldn’t go any farther.
I let Gingersnap join them and promptly found Elmer’s grave. I set the arrangement down. “I hope you’ll like these. They’re gorgeous.”
I fetched the other arrangements and closed the gate behind me lest the dogs lose interest in the back corner. It wasn’t until I had placed flowers on the third grave that I realized I h
ad said something to each of my ancestors. Only half an hour ago, I had sounded like Zelda. “Now I’m as looney as Aunt Birdie.”
I shook my head and used both hands to clear windblown strands of hair out of my face. “Oh, this is ridiculous. There’s no reason to feel jittery or uneasy. It’s just wind, and there are no such things as ghosts.”
Leaves blew around me with such force that I felt certain Brian would have insisted the spirits were complaining about what I had said.
The dogs were still barking in the corner of the cemetery. I made my way toward them, pausing to see who warranted the ornate obelisk.
Swags of roses had been cut into the top. Beneath them, perfect folds of fabric had been carved in the stone, ending in ornate stone tassels. I peered at the name. Dr. Ira Wraith. His wife and son’s epitaphs appeared there as well. The sun broke through the clouds, turning the giant cherub beside it golden. It was every bit as ornate as the obelisk. The chubby angel held one foot in the air behind him as though held aloft by his finely detailed wings. A wrap looped around his legs, and carved flowers cascaded down the pedestal on which he stood. Rebecca Wraith.
I was surprised that she hadn’t been buried with the rest of her family.
Furious barking broke my concentration. I jogged among the headstones and nabbed the three leashes.
“All right, all right. Hush. Enough barking!”
They weren’t interested in the grave, as I’d thought. They aimed their noses toward the woods outside of the fence. Moss grew on two plain tombstones that sat next to each other outside of the cemetery. I craned my neck to see the names. Dr. Hiram Montacue and Obadiah Bagley.
I stepped back, shocked. They had been ostracized. The people of Wagtail hadn’t buried them among their own respectable townspeople. Hiram had been a murderer. I wasn’t surprised that they wouldn’t want him in their cemetery. But Obadiah had been his victim. Why had they buried him outside of the fence, and even worse, right next to the man who had killed him?
Gingersnap started another round of barking, which prompted Trixie and Casper to join in. “Shh. You’re noisy enough to wake the dead.”
At that exact moment, I caught a movement in the trees. A shiver shuttled through me. It was probably only a deer. But wouldn’t I have heard a deer prancing away through the dry leaves? Only the youngest, most naive deer would stick around with this barking.
I was letting all the talk of ghosts get to me. Still, I felt as though someone was watching us. Many of the leaves had fallen, but the evergreens still provided a dense, dark thicket.
Nonsense. I was being silly because I was in a graveyard. Of course, that didn’t explain the dogs’ behavior.
“C’mon.” Holding their leashes, I turned quickly and bounded through the cemetery as fast as I could go, watching my step and dodging around grave markers.
When we reached the gate, I glanced up and screamed.
Twenty-two
Holmes opened the gate for us. “You’re running like you saw the devil himself.”
“Where did you come from?”
He was as calm as a summer sky. “Across the street. I’m supposed to meet Doc Kilgore and some of the guys here to set up for the celebration tonight.”
I peered at him. “Are you sure you weren’t in the woods trying to spook me?”
His gaze shot over my head to the woods. “I would never do that.”
“Yeah, right. So it was you.”
“Honest, Holly, I just got here. It was probably a deer.”
“That’s what I thought too, but they have trouble not making any noise when they leap away.”
Holmes couldn’t hide his grin. “You’re so skittish! The next thing I know, you’ll be telling me you’ve changed your mind and that you believe in ghosts.”
“Speaking of ghosts, do you know why Obadiah is buried outside of the cemetery?”
“Sure. He murdered Hiram.”
“Duh. Obadiah couldn’t have murdered Hiram, because he was already dead.”
“Ah, but they saw the ghost of Obadiah delivering the snakes that killed Hiram, remember?”
“That’s stupid. I’d rather not think our ancestors would fall for something like that.”
Holmes laughed. A nice hearty laugh that always warmed my heart. “Shh. I wouldn’t say that quite so loud out here in the cemetery where they’ll hear you.”
“Very funny.”
Several golf carts drove up, laden with supplies.
I waved good-bye to Holmes and turned to leave.
“Hey, Holly!” he called. “You’re coming tonight, right?”
How could a girl turn down that kind of heartfelt invitation? “You bet. Wouldn’t miss it.” Not if Holmes would be there, I wouldn’t. Maybe it would be fun. Maybe Oma and Rose were right. I just needed to loosen up a little and enjoy the spirit of the season.
When we returned to the Sugar Maple Inn, I removed all the leashes from the dogs. They descended upon Eva, Felix, Mark, Grayson, and Ben, who were relaxing in the sitting room with glasses of wine.
“I see you all met Ben.”
“They’ve been telling me about their ghost hunting adventures,” he said.
Eva waved at me. “Look at this. Isn’t it the cutest?”
She beckoned me to the huge window. Twinkletoes and Mrs. Mewer lay side by side, fast asleep. They weren’t touching, but given a little more time together, they might even snuggle.
“I thought this might be a boring trip for Mrs. Mewer, but she’s having the best time of her life. Who thought she would make a friend?”
“I’m just glad they’re not hissing at each other anymore.”
“Zelda told me about the GPS collar. Is it okay to let Mrs. Mewer run around the inn? I’ll be out part of the night at your aunt’s house.”
“Sure. No problem. We’ll look after her.”
“If you see her in the library, you might want to shoo her out of there. She’s been known to shred books and newspapers.”
We tiptoed away from the sleeping kitties just in time to see Officer Dave arrive.
He looked straight at us. “Eva Chevalier? I’d like to have a word with you, please.”
“Brian.” She barely breathed his name. “This is Brian’s doing.”
Mark jumped up from his seat. “What’s this about, Dave? Eva didn’t do anything.”
Dave kept a poker face, but his gaze locked on Mark for a hair too long. “I’d like to speak with you privately, Eva. Excuse us, please.”
Eva and Mark exchanged a fearful glance.
Dave followed Eva to her room in the cat wing.
Mark’s chest heaved with each breath he took. He kept his eyes on Eva. We all trailed behind Dave and Eva. When the door to her room closed, we waited in the inn library.
Ben whispered, “I feel like I missed something. What did Eva do?”
“Nothing!” barked Mark. In a softer tone, he repeated, “Nothing.”
“Brian saw Eva outside the inn the night that Mallory was murdered,” I murmured. Doc would be furious when he learned about this.
“Brian doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Mark snarled. “I never should have put him in the mix of ghost hunters. He’s just retaliating because Eva caught him in some underhanded ghost tricks.”
“Which you knew would happen,” said Felix.
“Makes for good TV. People like conflict. But it’s not fair of him to lie about Eva and imply that she was mixed up in Mallory’s death somehow.”
A little shuffle behind us drew our attention. A cameraman bounded in our direction. “Where are they?”
Mark held his hand up. “We’re not shooting this.”
Brian thundered toward us. “You just said conflict makes for good TV. Wish we could see her face. Was she panicked?”
“You’re a w
orm, Brian. The lowest of the low.” Mark seethed with disgust.
“Oh, it’s okay to make money off me by putting me on the hot seat and wrecking my reputation? That didn’t seem to bother you so much, Mr. High and Mighty. But now that it’s Eva in the middle of the controversy—”
“You twit. This has nothing to do with the show. I will not allow it to become a sick drama about Mallory’s death.” Mark’s eyes flashed with anger.
“Really, Mr. Big Shot Author? Why not? Where were you when your girlfriend was drowning?”
“I wouldn’t be quite so bold about accusing other people if I were in your shoes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Felix stepped between them. “Hey, guys. Let’s not start attacking each other. We’re all friends. Okay? We need to stick together.”
It was Brian who seemed the most put out. Trixie placed her paws on his thigh and nuzzled his pocket for treats. He pushed her away. “What’s wrong with your dog? I don’t have any dog treats.”
Mark kept a vigilant and worried eye on the door to Eva’s room. Grayson had stayed out of the argument, but he stood by with his friends.
I excused myself, but before I walked away, Felix said, “Would you like to join us for dinner tonight? Ben is coming. Then we’re going to walk over to the cemetery.”
“Sounds great. I just need to check in with my grandmother.” I walked toward her office with Trixie trotting ahead of me. I had risen early so I could get to work but I hadn’t done a thing for the inn all afternoon.
Oma wasn’t in the office, so I walked upstairs to her apartment. She answered the door in a chic pantsuit with a jacket reminiscent of Chanel.
“Wow. Where are you off to?”
Oma smiled coyly. “Dinner at the Blue Boar.”
I suspected that the charming chef who owned the posh restaurant had a bit of a crush on my sweet Oma. “Is Rose going, too?”
“You would like to join us, perhaps? Doc will be coming when he finishes helping at the cemetery.”
“Is it my imagination or is there a spark between them?”
Oma nodded. “It would be nice, no? Doc and Rose have been widowed for a long time. Like me, Doc has a daughter who lives in Florida and never visits. Such a pity. We miss them so much.” She bestowed a beautiful smile upon me. “I’m so glad I have you, liebchen.” She hugged me with a fervor that I knew came from deep within her. “So would you like to come with us?”
