by Morgana Best
“Sounds great, Mr. Fredericks,” James said. James’s face was flushed with excitement.
“Please, call me Victor.”
“Okay, Victor.”
And with that we all went into the dining room and ate lunch. I sat a few seats down from Victor, who was enthralling us all with stories of Hollywood, and personal details about celebrities he knew. I hung on every word. It was simply cool. I didn’t know a better word to describe it.
When lunch was finally over, two and a half hours later, Victor turned to Cressida.
“Would you please excuse us? James and I have a few things we need to go over.”
“Of course,” Cressida said with a smile.
Everyone filed out of the dining room, and Cressida and I cleared the table.
I was stacking the dishwasher when Cressida said, “I’ll go and see if I can hear anything.”
I just nodded and kept shoving as much as I could into the dishwasher.
I had just dumped the dishes that didn’t fit into the dishwasher into the sink and was filling it with hot sudsy water, when Cressida returned. “What are they talking about?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve heard the words contract, prime time, and that’s about all I can make out. Oh, and I’m sure I heard the words million dollars.”
My mouth fell open. “A million dollars?”
Cressida nodded.
“So that was why he killed Sue,” a voice said, and I turned to see Dorothy standing by the sink.
“You think James killed Sue?” Cressida asked. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t want him to kill me,” Dorothy said.
“Why do you think your James killed Sue?” I asked, keeping an eye on the knife drawer, just in case.
Dorothy took a step closer to me. “I heard them arguing, the night before Sue died.”
“About what?” I asked, as I moved further away from Dorothy.
“Sue was mad at James. She said he was faking everything, and she didn’t want to be a part of it. Sue had said she wouldn’t let him do that. She said she would tell everyone. And the next day she was dead.”
At that moment, the door swung open, and Victor walked into the room.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, although when you’re in a house this haunted, I’m not surprised you’re all on edge!” the man said, with a smile. His teeth were so white they were almost blinding. I supposed that everyone in Hollywood had teeth like that. “I just want to thank you for a lovely lunch, and it was great to meet you all, and I have a plane to catch.”
“You’re all done?” Cressida asked. “That was fast.”
“Well, you know what they say in Hollywood,” Victor said. “Hurry up and wait.” He winked and then left.
“Well, we had better call Blake,” Cressida said, when the door shut. “And we had better call him fast.”
“It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.”
(C. S. Lewis)
Chapter Nineteen .
Mr. Buttons kept an eye on the window while I searched James’s bedroom, looking for evidence to indicate that James was faking the ghostly phenomena.
“Hurry, Sibyl - James will probably be heading back soon.”
“I know, but we have to find something first.” I rummaged through suitcases and duffel bags, when my eyes fell upon some furniture in the corner. I walked over and lifted up a round, wooden table. It looked heavy and old, but I was able to flip it right-side up with one hand. “Mr. Buttons, come here - I think I’ve found something.”
He walked over and looked at the table without even a hint of optimism on his face. “A table?”
“Not just a table. Look at this.” I handed the table to Mr. Buttons and tilted it so he could see a metallic device that was fastened under the bottom of the table. “I think it’s for a signal or something. Look, there’s even a remote.”
Mr. Buttons reached over and slid the remote from its holster. He pressed a few buttons on the tiny remote, and the table shook.
“Wow, so this is how he did it,” I said. “One press of a button and it looks like a ghost is randomly shaking the table.”
Mr. Buttons pointed to a strange-looking contraption poking from a black duffel bag. “See what that is.”
I leaned over, and seized the device. It was square in shape, with large antennae, several LED lights decorating the top, and a gauge with a floating needle resting in the center. I pressed one of the buttons, and a ghostly voice emanated from the other side of the room.
I jumped and clutched at my throat. “That scared me,” I said, somewhat unnecessarily.
“He’s set it up so that if you press that button, the ghostly voice comes out of that camera,” Mr. Buttons said. He crossed the room and fetched the camera. “Press the button again, Sibyl.”
I did, and the ghostly voice said, “Leave!”
“That was the voice we heard the other night,” I said.
Mr. Buttons nodded. “Yes, and with the cameras being in the other rooms, no one would know the voices were actually coming from the cameras. Sibyl, we have enough. Let’s take the camera and the EMF meter and get out of here.”
I looked around the room, which was in disarray. “No, we’d better cover our tracks first. Mr. Buttons, could you hurry and call Blake, and tell him to get here fast, and I’ll quickly put everything back, so that James won’t know anyone’s been through his things.”
Mr. Buttons nodded in agreement and headed toward the door. “All right, but make it fast - he could be back at any minute.”
I set the table back down in its original location and tidied up as best I could. I heard the door open, and I swung around.
“What do you think you’re doing up here?” James’s tone was filled with fury.
“I’m sorry. I came up here to look for you, and the door was open. I just thought it would be cool to see some of your ghost hunting gadgets.”
James turned around and locked the door behind him. “You do realize I’m not stupid, right?”
“Err, umm,” I stammered.
“So you thought you’d come up here and look through my gear for what? To find a motive for Sue’s murder? Did you find one?”
“A motive?” I parroted.
He looked at me in disgust. “I see you’re standing right near my table, and I’m sure you’ve already found out that it’s rigged to make it look like paranormal activity is affecting it. Also, I suppose you’ve discovered that the EMF detectors are rigged to go off whenever I want them to.”
No, I hadn’t known that. “So what if your show’s a bit staged?” I said. “I watch a lot of TV. I’m sure it’s all staged.”
James walked toward me and I backed against the wall. “Sue was going to blow the whistle and come out with the truth. Sue and I dated on and off for a long time. We pretty much started this thing together. Sue objected when I faked stuff for the pilot. So, I told her we needed to part ways and that I’d make sure she was compensated for being in the pilot. That was not something she was willing to accept though. She told me she had emails, photographs, video, and everything else she needed to prove I was a fraud. She even threatened to go to the network with the information and demand she stay on the show.”
“So she was going to use extortion as a way of staying on the TV series?” I said, hoping to keep him talking until help arrived. “Surely the network would have dealt with it themselves.”
James let out a snort of derision. “No. They would have canceled the entire thing. It was worth over a million bucks to me – did you hear that? A million bucks!”
“So you killed her?”
James shrugged. “I didn’t have a choice. I injected nicotine into her hair dye – quite clever of me, I thought.”
“Well, you n
early killed Cressida, too.”
“I didn’t mean for anyone else to get hurt. Well, until now.” Without a warning, he lunged toward me and seized me by my arm. With his fingers digging painfully into my arm, he dragged me toward the open window.
I threw myself backward, and I collapsed to the ground, pulling James down with me. James scrambled back to his feet, and grabbed me with both hands. “Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”
James dragged me to the window, and when I caught sight of the ground below, I struggled even harder. It was a long drop to the ground, with James’s room being two stories up, and I knew I wouldn’t survive the fall. I screamed, but James clamped his hand over my mouth.
At that moment, the door flew open with a loud thud. As James looked up in surprise, I took the opportunity to knee him hard in the unmentionables. I ran forward, and staggered into Blake’s arms. “He killed Sue,” I said.
“I’ll take care of him. Keep her safe and get her outside,” Blake said to Mr. Buttons, who was right behind him. He turned back toward the room and shut the door.
I crumpled into Mr. Buttons’ arms as we both fell against the wall and slid to a sitting position.
There were a few loud noises and banging sounds from within the room, and then Blake opened the door, pushing a handcuffed and sullen-faced James in front of him.
“A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning, as if supported by the rays of the sun, a bird settled on the fire escape, joy in the task of coffee, joy accompanied me as I walked.”
(Anais Nin)
Chapter Twenty .
I could not help but smile when I walked through the doors of the hospital, and saw Blake waiting there.
“I thought Mr. Buttons and Cressida were coming for me.”
“They don’t care that much for you, so I offered to come pick you up,” Blake said, his tone teasing.
“I don’t believe that for a second. Mr. Buttons is in love with me, you know.”
“I’m in love with you too,” Blake said, and then we both laughed, but I wondered if there was any truth to the statement.
“Is my dog okay?” I asked.
Blake raised his eyebrows at me. “She is.” He opened the passenger door for me and shut it when I was inside. He then hurried around the car and dropped in behind the wheel. He looked at me as he slid the key into the ignition and turned it. “Your bird is still fine, too.”
I shrugged. “Can’t win them all, I guess.”
“You were only in there a few hours. Did you think your dog was going to go crazy with sadness?” Blake asked.
I laughed and shrugged.
“How are you feeling?” Blake asked as he backed his squad car out of the parking space.
“Okay, I guess. I feel pretty dumb.”
I had broken a drinking glass at home, and when it had shattered, a piece had cut my hand pretty badly. I had needed ten stitches altogether. What I hadn’t told anyone, was that at the time, I had been remembering when James had attacked me and almost thrown me out of the window.
“You’ll be happy to know he’s still in custody,” Blake said, and I looked sideways at him. He always knew exactly what was going on in my head, and it frightened me a bit. Did he know that I’d cut myself accidentally, because I was having some strange sort of post traumatic stress flashback? I wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if he did.
I nodded and looked out of my window as we pulled from the hospital parking lot and out onto the road. “I wish that would bring back the woman he murdered.”
“You know the crazy thing?” Blake asked. “I’m not even sure the kid believes in ghosts.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“I don’t know; it’s just this feeling I have. I think he liked Sue, and it was a way to get close to her, and then it became about the money. I’m sure Sue believed in ghosts - she wanted to find a ghost and get it on tape. James just knew how much money that would get. It’s what he latched onto.”
“So he loved her at one point, but then he loved the idea of getting rich?” I asked.
“I think so.”
There was nothing but silence in the car for a few minutes, and then I spoke up. “What about Dorothy? Why all the lies?”
“I looked into it. As far as I can tell, she simply wanted to distance herself from her family. Her sister is James’s mother. I don’t know, though; she’s a hard woman to talk to.”
“I thought she was a killer, but she turned out to be a victim in a way. Her nephew knew we would suspect her. You know, I wondered for ages why the killer didn’t remove the bottle of poisoned hair dye – James was obviously hoping it would be found, and Dorothy would get the blame.”
Blake agreed. “And he had no idea that anyone else would use the hair dye. Cressida was the only other woman living at the boarding house, and she had her own bathroom. James wasn’t to know that the plumber would be renovating Cressida’s bathroom at that very time.”
“He’s disgusting,” I said.
“You’ve met a few killers recently,” Blake said. “Surely they were all disgusting?”
I laughed, but it was a sad laugh, quiet and short. “That’s true,” I said with a sigh. “Listen, let’s stop talking about all of this stuff. And I’ll give you a million dollars if you stop and get me a milkshake. I’ve wanted one for five days now.”
“You don’t have a million dollars, and you weren’t in the hospital for five days; it was four hours,” Blake said, shaking his head.
“Okay, I’ll give you my respect, and it doesn’t have anything to do with being in the hospital; I’ve just wanted a milkshake for a while.”
Blake laughed. “You already respect me.”
I had to laugh. “Says who?”
“Your eyes.”
I shook my head in mock disgust. “Oh, you’re so corny. Please stop for milkshakes.”
“Yes ma’am,” Blake said. And so he did, and we sat in the parking lot of McDonalds and drank them. We talked about everything but James or the window or Dorothy, and when our cups were empty, Blake took me back home.
I knew Mr. Buttons and Cressida would be concerned about me, and would be expecting me to go to the boarding house as soon as I got home, but they would ask me the same questions, and fret over me, and I didn’t want that, not at that moment. I had Blake drop me off at my cottage. I waved goodbye with my good hand and watched him drive off, and then I went inside. I took a long shower as best I could, while keeping my stitches dry. I changed and then walked outside, toward the boarding house.
When I entered the house, Mr. Buttons and Cressida were in the front hall, waiting for me. They smiled and hurried to me.
“We missed you,” Cressida said.
“It was four hours,” I said.
“We know, but this place is dreadfully boring without you, dear,” Mr. Buttons said. “It really is. There hasn’t been a mystery to solve or anything.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I think I could use a break from mysteries,” I told the British man.
Mr. Buttons looked affronted. “Surely you can’t be serious.”
“Okay, well as long as the next one doesn’t start with a murder, I guess I could go for a mystery.”
“That’s the spirit,” Mr. Buttons said, and we all laughed.
* * * * The End * * * *
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Watch for Book FOUR in the Sibyl Potts Cozy Mystery series.
A Matter of Wife and Death.
There hasn’t been a murder in weeks, so Sibyl and her friends, Cressida Upthorpe and Mr. Buttons, breathe a sigh of relief. Yet no sooner have honeymooners, a famous businessman and his wife, booked in to start their married life in bliss, when a tragic accident befalls one of them. The council authorities move to shut
down the boarding house for safety reasons.
The media focus their attention on the husband, believing he was the target, and protesters move to town to rally against the husband’s company, which is destroying the local wilderness land.
What with Blake’s ex-girlfriend coming back to town, and a rival boarding house opening up nearby, can Sibyl keep a cool head, solve the murder, and save the boarding house from the local authorities?
* * *
You might also enjoy Morgana Best's #1 Best Selling series: The Misty Sales Cozy Mystery Series.
Book ONE in the Misty Sales Cozy Mystery Series.
A Motive for Murder
Misty Sales is a slightly overweight journalist for a paranormal magazine in Australia. While her social life is almost non existent, she does have one skill: while wearing shapewear and with her reading glasses perched on her nose, she can out-research the best of them, especially when her caffeine levels are high.
When sent to England to write articles about alchemists of the past, Misty has no sooner arrived than she finds the body of her elderly Aunt, and at once inherits her Aunt's feisty cat, Diva. Misty is suddenly drawn into a web of intrigue, secret societies, and the mystical.
What secret of her aunt's gave someone a motive for murder?
As time runs out, Misty races to put the pieces together before she becomes the next victim.
Book TWO in the Misty Sales Cozy Mystery series.
A Reason For Murder.
What do Voodoo spirit bottles have to do with the ghosts in an Australian touristy village? Plenty, as Misty Sales discovers to her detriment. Morpeth, once an early river port of Australia but now famous for its ghosts, plays host to Misty's latest mystery. Misty Sales, journalist for a paranormal magazine, is back from London, having been made Keeper of a Society about which she knows nothing. Her caffeine habit is out of control, as is her job security, and her cat, Diva, is more unpredictable than ever. Even Misty's life is left in the balance, as her Editor sends her to write about the ghosts of Morpeth. In danger, in shapewear, and in debt, Misty matches wits against an unseen enemy. He attacks Misty with natural and unnatural means, while Misty hits back hard with facts.
