The Case of the Sinister Spirit

by Leighann Dobbs

  I hung up just as I pulled into one of the parking spots at the mill building. The office on the first floor was still shrouded in craft paper, but I didn’t have time to try to peek through the edges, because no sooner had I taken a step toward the building when I heard heels click-clacking on the pavement behind me. I turned to see Connie Steele running up toward me, her hair practically glowing in the high noon sun.

  “Jane? Bad break in that ghost story, huh? Can you believe Charlie Henderson was behind it? There’s something not right about him, I tell you.” Apparently word was out that the ghostly noises being heard up on Kenwick Road were all fake.

  “I don’t know. He seems like an okay guy,” I said. Despite the fact that Charlie kept holding me at gunpoint, I was kind of starting to warm to him.

  Connie’s brows mashed together. “Okay? Have you seen those creepy dollhouses he makes?”

  “They’re not dollhouses, they’re vignettes.”

  “Vignette, chignette. Whatever they are, it’s not normal. He has an obsession with murder.” Connie leaned closer to me, her red hair glinting in the sunlight. “And I think he killed Bud.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t think so. He has an alibi.”

  “Well, I think he killed somebody. Maybe the people in those vignettes.”

  “Sheriff O’Hara said he gets the information about old murders from the cops. He makes the vignettes from past cases.” I doubted Charlie was killing people to make vignettes of their murders, but then again, one never knew.

  I could see the wheels turning in Connie’s head as she tapped a pink manicured index finger on her lips. “Sure. Some of them. But how do we know that all of them are from old murders? But that’s a conversation for another time. I’m doing an article on the fake ghost thing. I was wondering if you have any insights for me. I heard you were the one that got him to confess.”

  “I don’t really have anything to add. He was just faking that there was a ghost up there to keep people away.”

  “Keep them away from what?”

  I shrugged. “Who knows. He’s an old guy. You know how cantankerous they get.” I didn’t want to let on about the treasure. Connie was like a dog with a bone when she heard something that she thought would increase circulation of the paper. The last thing I needed was her writing an article on the old Dunbuddy treasure.

  I decided to change the subject. “So Hightower must be happy that there’s not a real murdering ghost.” I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Hightower since the last time she’d accused me of being behind the murder. That was a good sign. Maybe now that the ghost rumor was squelched, Hightower would back off. I knew she couldn’t seriously believe that I or my aunts would be behind murdering Bud. She was just used to accusing us of everything.

  “Happy? I don’t know about that. I guess she’s glad there’s no ghost. Ghosts are expected in this town, but not ghosts that kill people. Of course, if it wasn’t a ghost, that means it was a person. People that kill people are just as bad.”

  She had a point. Hightower was never happy anyway. The sooner I caught the real killer, the better.

  I escaped Connie and headed upstairs to my office. Jinx was pacing back and forth just inside the door.

  “Where have you been? I didn’t have my lunch.” Jinx trotted over to the stainless steel cat bowl I kept in the corner.

  “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “Catnapping. I don’t just lounge around all day. Gotta get up to eat. You know I’m a lean machine and need to eat at least six squares a day.”

  I threw some food into the bowl, and Moe materialized from the corner of the office.

  “Okay, Red. Fill me in. Did you find any clues out at the barn?”

  “Someone’s been digging out there. But I don’t know if it was Bud’s killer or someone looking for the treasure. I did find out some interesting information on his kids.”

  Moe hitched his hip onto the corner of my desk. “Spill.”

  “It seems that his son Steve has been talking to Bernie Alcorn. He’s the surveyor in town.”

  “Why is that suspicious?”

  “Well, for one, Steve has no money to pay a surveyor. And for two, both Charlie and Minnie mentioned something about a pharmacy being built on Bud’s land. They must’ve gotten that rumor from somewhere.”

  “So you think the kid was hedging his bets on his inheritance. Maybe he chilled off the old man to get the money early. If a corporation was sniffing around to buy that property, he would want to strike while the iron was hot and not wait for Bud to die off and leave it to him.”

  “Exactly. Or he could’ve had a lead on the location of the treasure. Maybe he found out it was between a tree and a stone wall, and he needed a surveyor to pinpoint the area. Someone’s been digging there for a while with no luck. He might figure it was worth borrowing the money for Bernie to get the exact spot. The only fly in the ointment is that his car didn’t squeal.” I looked at Moe. “If a car had a loose belt or something that made it squeal, would that happen all the time, or would it go away?”

  “It’s not usually intermittent. Once a belt starts to go, it’s always going to squeal.”

  I thought about the vacuum and Zelda with her mop shoes. If car belts were anything like vacuum belts, then Moe was right.

  “Steve said Brent was lying about his alibi.”

  “Is that the one where the wife backed him up? The one having the affair.”

  “Yeah. Steve alluded to the fact he might’ve been with his girlfriend, and Chastity looked really embarrassed. Maybe she knows he was with the girlfriend and is too mortified to admit that he wasn’t there.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe she’s in on it too. Maybe all three of them are in on it together.”

  “I doubt that. It didn’t seem like the two sons got along. They kept accusing each other.”

  “Could it be an act?”

  “Doubt it.” They really seemed to have animosity toward each other.

  “Sounds like you got more detecting to do. A good shamus never puts the finger on a suspect without ruling out all the other suspects without a doubt. You need to get to the bottom of it so you don’t go around toting the wrong ringer.”

  “English, Moe, English.”

  “Toting the wrong ringer, you know, asking the wrong person.”

  “Oh, right.” I sat down at my computer and looked up the address I’d searched for earlier. “I know that. That’s why I’m going to stake out Brent and Chastity tonight to see if their car makes a squealing noise. If it does, then I know which suspects to focus on.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I figured suppertime would be a good time to stake out Brent and Chastity’s place. Maybe one of them would go out after supper, or I could catch them coming home in the car. Did Brent even work? Either way, I figured if I headed out to their house around suppertime, at some point, the car would either be coming or going, and I could see if it squealed.

  Jinx deigned to accompany me. An unwelcome sight met us in the parking lot. Vera Hightower. She was coming out of the mysterious office on the first floor. Oh, crap! Don’t tell me that the office was hers.

  Her face contorted into a scowl as soon as she saw me. “Jane. I want to talk to you.”

  “Is that your new office?” I asked.

  She looked behind her. “No. I wouldn’t be caught dead having an office in this sleazy mill. I was just delivering the new office welcome basket. All businesses get it. Never mind that. I want to talk to you about your aunt.”

  “What about my aunt?” Had she been caught at the Witch’s Brew Lounge again? Was she flying brooms around the town square? I hoped Tess hadn’t made her another potion. She’d guzzled down the first vial, and the effects of the magic were still in her system.

  “She’s down in the town common acting very strange. I have a good mind to call O’Hara and have her taken in. You know Bud Saunders was killed with a pitchfork, and what other implement is very close to a pitchfork?” />
  I had no idea where she was going with this. “I give up. What?”

  “A broom. And your aunt has been obsessed with them.”

  Oh, that’s where she was going. Not good. “Did you call O’Hara on her?”

  “I should have, but I didn’t.”

  That was odd. I’d figured Hightower would jump at the chance to have any of my family members taken down to the police station.

  “Why?”

  “Mitch talked me out of it.”

  It was my turn to scowl. “He did?” I couldn’t imagine why Mitch would be nice to my family. We hadn’t exactly parted on good terms.

  “Yeah. But I’m having second thoughts.”

  A cackling sound sliced the air, and my heart skipped a beat.

  “What was that?” Hightower asked.

  “Sounded like a raven to me,” I said. “Well, I better get going and check on my aunt.”

  “Yeah, you better.”

  Jinx and I hopped into the car and sped over to the town common. The common was a lush, grassy triangular area in the middle of a cluster of shops at the end of Main Street. Standing proudly in the center was a statue of Paul Revere on a horse. Except now the statue had something extra. Aunt Gladys was riding behind Paul.

  “Giddy-up now!” Aunt Gladys dug her heels into the flanks, her red cowboy boots clacking on the metal. A crowd had gathered, and she waved at them. “Out of the way. Out of the way.”

  I pushed my way through the crowd. Unfortunately, Sheriff O’Hara had beat me there.

  “You come down from that horse now, Mrs. Gallows.” O’Hara had her hands on her hips and was scowling up at Aunt Gladys.

  “What? No way. You Redcoats get out of the way.” She waved at O’Hara as if to shoo her away. “I got me some tea I gotta dump in the harbor.”

  Oh, no. She thought she was on her way to the Boston Tea Party. This had happened once before, and it hadn’t ended well. It must have been the residual effects of Tess’s potion. Hopefully they would wear off soon.

  “Yoo-hoo! Aunt Gladys!” I waved at her, and she looked down at me. “Get down from the horse now, Auntie.”

  “Hi, honey! You coming to the party? Bring some sugar and maybe some lemon.” She dug her heels into the horse again.

  “No. Aunt Gladys. The party is over.” By about two hundred fifty years.

  “Say what?” She leaned over closer to me, wobbling in the seat. The statue was probably slippery. I didn’t want her to fall off and get hurt.

  “Be careful, Aunt Glad!”

  “You get down from there now,” O’Hara said. “You could be arrested for vandalizing public property.”

  I glared at O’Hara. “You’re gonna arrest her?”

  “Did you say I need a rest?” Aunt Gladys leaned precariously backward in the saddle. “I am a bit tired now that you—oops!”

  I watched in horror as she slid backward off the end of the horse as if in slow motion. The crowd rushed forward, catching her and breaking her fall.

  Aunt Gladys threw her hand up onto her forehead. “Why, thanks, everyone.” She stood up, brushing off her long black broomstick skirt. “Now where’s the tea?”

  O’Hara stomped over.

  “Okay. Okay. Break it up everybody. You.” She pointed at Gladys. “You’re obviously intoxicated and making a public nuisance of yourself.”

  I rushed over. “I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. I’ll take her home and make sure she doesn’t make a nuisance of herself anymore.” I noticed some brooms lying around the statue. That didn’t bode well. Then again, how had she gotten up onto the statue? It was quite tall. Maybe her broom-flying skills had improved after all.

  O’Hara turned to me, her hands on her hips. “Oh, so you want to take your auntie home? You don’t want me to bring her in to the station?”

  My chest constricted at the glint of smug satisfaction in her eyes. “I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Oh, really?” She whipped the cuffs out and slapped them on Gladys then started pulling her toward the police car. “Well then, how does it feel to want?”

  “I know who’s getting some mice on their front doorstep tonight,” Jinx said as we pulled up in front of the police station.

  I might have argued with him, but the thought of Bobby O’Hara stepping out in the morning to find several severed mice heads on her front step appealed to me.

  “Sounds like a plan. You stay here in the car, and I’ll see if I can get Aunt Gladys out.”

  “Will do,” Jinx said quickly. A little too quickly if you ask me. I was suspicious, but he’d curled up in the passenger seat and was already asleep.

  Inside the station, Aunt Gladys had sobered up. O’Hara had handed her off to one of the patrolmen, a wet-behind-the-ears kid named Jimmy Carruthers. Military-cut blond hair, bobbing Adam’s apple. He seemed like a nice kid.

  Gladys blushed when she saw me. “I’m sorry, Janie. I don’t know what happened. You know I drank all the po- ... I mean that smoothie that Tess gave me, and I guess it’s still kicking around in my system.” Hiccup.

  “You’re not really going to book her, are you?” I asked Jimmy.

  “Yes, ma’am. Sheriff O’Hara told me to.”

  “On what charges?”

  Jimmy looked sheepish. “Drunk and disorderly.”

  “You’re going to give her a breathalyzer then, right?” I knew that was standard police protocol. And I also knew that Aunt Gladys would pass the breathalyzer. She didn’t have alcohol in her system, and breathalyzers didn’t trigger on potions.

  I rummaged in my purse for some chocolate. If worse came to worst, I could zap him with a nevermind spell. I didn’t really want to do that, though, because he might get in trouble with O’Hara later. Better to have him be forced to let her go because they had no legal reason to keep her when she passed the breathalyzer.

  His cheeks turned red. “Oh yeah. That’s right.” He opened a filing cabinet and pulled out a little breathalyzer unit then administered it to Gladys, who, for once, was cooperative.

  She blew, and he looked at the device. “Huh. It’s not registering anything.”

  He shook it then handed it back to her. “Can you try again?”

  She blew again. Still nothing.

  “Well, I don’t know what is wrong with this.” Jimmy looked around the room, calling out to a dark-haired officer near a Mr. Coffee machine that looked like it had been there since the 1980s. “Hey, Parker. Can you check this out? I have a drunk and disorderly here, but she blows zero on the breathalyzer.”

  Parker took the device and looked at it.

  “Is it this redhead here?” He pointed to me. “They’re usually trouble.”

  “No, this one.” Jimmy pointed to Aunt Gladys.

  Parker frowned. “You’re arresting an old lady?”

  Aunt Gladys pulled herself up to her full height. “Young man, I am not old. I’m wise.”

  Parker smiled at her. “I’m sure you are.” He turned to Jimmy. “Let her go, Jimmy.”

  “But Sheriff O’Hara said...”

  Parker pointed to the breathalyzer. “You can’t arrest her if she’s not drunk. Maybe she’s just a little...” Parker made loopy circles on the side of his head, indicating he thought Gladys might be loony. “Can’t arrest people for that.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “My aunt needs special care. And our lawyer certainly wouldn’t like it if she was arrested under false pretenses.”

  “I don’t need special care,” Gladys started but shut up quickly when I jabbed her in the ribs.

  “Well, okay...” Jimmy’s voice wavered uncertainly.

  I grabbed my opportunity before O’Hara came in and made a fuss. “So, we’re free to go?”

  “I guess so.” Jimmy sounded reluctant.

  I didn’t wait for him to change his mind. Aunt Gladys had already had the cuffs removed, so I pulled her out of the chair, and we started down the hallway. Much to my dismay, we ran into Jinx on the way.

>   “What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay in the car,” I whispered. The last thing I needed was to have to explain how my cat ended up in the police station. Which made me wonder, how had he actually gotten into the station? Last I knew, he couldn’t open doors. But he was resourceful. He’d probably slipped in when someone else opened it.

  “Well, you were in here so long, I thought you might need some help,” he said.

  “We don’t need any help. Now, let’s go ...” I didn’t finish the sentence, because just then, I happened to glance into Sheriff O’Hara’s office. She was seated at her desk. On the other side of the desk sat Brent Saunders and a blonde. Was that his girlfriend? Apparently O’Hara wasn’t as dumb as I’d thought. She’d picked up on what Steve had said out at Bud’s property about Brent and figured out who the girlfriend was. Was she checking if he really had been with her the night Bud was killed?

  “Darn. I wish I could hear what they were saying in there,” I said.

  “Oh, no problem, dear, let me just cast a walls-have-ears spell.” Gladys raised her hand in the direction of the office.

  “No!” I put my hand on her arm, pushing it down. “No spells. That would be cheating.”

  Jinx made a noise beside me. He rolled his eyes. “Okay, Miss Ethics, would it be cheating if a friend overheard what they were saying and told you?”

  A lot of private investigators got police information from the cops they knew. If O’Hara had liked me, she might even tell me exactly what Brent and his girlfriend were saying. She’d certainly tell Mitch. So overhearing something or being told by the cops wouldn’t be cheating.

  “I suppose not.”

  “Fine.” Jinx trotted over to the office, and I followed, making sure to stay out of O’Hara’s line of vision.

  Jinx put his ear to the wall. “Okay. She’s asking where they were the night of Bud’s death. The girlfriend’s saying they were together.”

  “Where?” I asked, scanning the hallway nervously to make sure no other cops walked by and noticed my cat with his ear to O’Hara’s office wall. Luckily, it was a small town, and the rest of the cops, besides Jimmy and Parker, who were in the squad room, were out on calls.