The Diva Haunts the House

by Krista Davis

  Jen shuddered. “It’s a Living Dead Doll.”

  TEN

  Dear Sophie,

  My daughter is having a Halloween party this year, so I’m going all out. My husband found fake tombstones on sale and made a coffin for the front yard. They’re all on display, but they just seem kind of uninspired.

  —Not Scary in Gravestown, Mississippi

  Dear Not Scary,

  You have the basics, now it’s time to dress up your graveyard. How about a shovel leaning against a tree? Drop a plastic yard bag in the shape of a fresh grave and mound mulch and dirt over it. Place black flower bouquets on a couple of the gravestones. Perch a crow or two on top of one, too. Plant a plastic hand below one tombstone so it appears to be reaching out of the grave. If you have solar garden lights, prop them up behind the tombstones so there’s an unearthly glow around them at night!

  —Sophie

  Vegas jumped up to peer in the bag. “Those dolls creep me out! Where did you get this?”

  “Someone left it at the front door.”

  “Our door?” asked Jen, wide awake. Her eyes met Vegas’s in a frightened glance.

  “It was on a pumpkin by the front door,” I said. “What’s going on?”

  “That’s not good.” Jen backed away from the bag. “I don’t even want to touch it.”

  Vegas shivered. “I will. We have to know.” Holding the bag with one hand, she dipped the other one inside, probed something, and screamed, dropping the doll and the bag. “It has a vampire bite on its neck!”

  Jen’s cheeks flared red. “It’s a message from him.”

  I picked up the doll. “Him who?”

  Jen gave me one of those impatient teen looks, like I was too dumb to live. “The vampire!”

  Nina hurried over to look at it. “Gross! You mean it’s a message, like—you’re next?”

  A spidery shiver inched down my back. I had almost been the next victim last night. Had he come back and left the doll as a warning to me?

  Vegas wrapped her hands around her neck protectively. “Well, duh. What else would it be?”

  “A prank?” I asked hopefully. I wanted it to be something else. Anything but a threat. No matter how much the girls insisted there was a vampire, if it was a threat, it came from an ordinary, but dangerous, person.

  Nina shook her head and mouthed, “Better call Wolf.” She grinned at the girls. “Probably left by a boy who wants to scare you.” She took the doll, closed the top of the bag, and stashed it on the console in the foyer where we wouldn’t have to look at it.

  I was still shaken, and I feared seeing those dead doll eyes in my dreams the way Vegas had seen Viktor. I poured a bracing mug of coffee for myself and took a few slugs in the hope it would settle my nerves. Nina resumed her place at the table, but I could see she was concerned.

  “Well?” demanded Natasha, who had declined breakfast but evidently had no qualms about stealing the banana monster finger off Vegas’s plate. “Did you see a vampire bite on Patrick’s neck, Sophie?”

  “There were two spots, but that doesn’t mean he was bitten by a vampire.”

  Nina stopped eating, her eyes wide. “Good heavens! I think I saw the killer without his mask last night! I was looking for that black cat in the alley when a kid in a Dracula outfit ran by. I didn’t make the connection because everyone is dressed up for Halloween.”

  “A kid?” I said.

  “You lost your cat?” asked Jen. “I would just die if I couldn’t find Jasper or Alice.” She frowned. “Maybe I should call the cat sitter and make sure they’re okay.”

  “I’m sure they’re fine,” said Nina. “At the shelter we don’t let anyone adopt black cats around Halloween—to protect them from people who might be cruel. We’re rounding up black cats just to be on the safe side, and there’s a big tomcat who continues to be elusive.”

  “Which way was he going?” I asked.

  “He’s been hanging around this neighborhood recently, but we’ve had reports of sightings down by the river, too.”

  Trying not to sound frustrated, I grumbled, “I meant the vampire, not the cat.”

  “Oh.” Nina waved her fork. “He was running along the alley behind the Harts’ house.”

  “Think you can identify him?” I bit into a crunchy piece of toast.

  “There aren’t any streetlights in the alley, so it was dark, but I might recognize him if I saw him again.”

  “You have to tell Wolf,” I said. “And don’t blab to other people about the fact that you saw him. You don’t want to find one of those dead dolls at your door.”

  “Did he have long fangs for biting people?” asked Vegas.

  “Vegas, we still don’t know the cause of Patrick’s death. Maybe the”—I chose my words very carefully for the benefit of the girls—“man in the vampire costume had nothing at all to do with Patrick Starski’s death. Which brings me to another point—eat up! We have a ton of work to do before the first tours of the haunted house tonight.”

  After Natasha and Nina left, I rinsed the dishes and stashed them in the dishwasher while the girls changed clothes. I slid chicken tenders into a zip-top bag and poured part of the cooled Scaryaki sauce on them to marinate in the fridge until dinner.

  We packed up the signs they’d made; fed Mochie, who appeared sleepy and as though he was waiting for us to leave; attached a leash to Daisy’s collar; and headed for the haunted house.

  Humphrey and Bernie were already there when we arrived. We divided the remaining projects, and I was amused to see that Jen had become the list keeper, following in the footsteps of her micromanaging mother. Daisy romped in the graveyard in the back while the kids helped Bernie and Humphrey spook up the mock gravestones.

  I returned to the front room to tackle the chandelier. I worried about the kids, though. Was it safe for them to be exposed to members of the public who came through the haunted house? Would the killer be among the people we welcomed? Maybe I should leave them safely at home, with an adult and Daisy for protection. On the other hand, maybe the haunted house would be the safest place to be since Bernie, Humphrey, and Nina would be here with us. Wasn’t there safety in numbers?

  Thunk. I paused, momentarily paralyzed. It was just the normal creaking of an old building. It wasn’t as though my own house didn’t make sounds. I glanced around and realized I had broken my promise to myself not to be alone. Thunk, thunk, thunk. The noise picked up speed, and so did my heartbeat. Where was it coming from? There had to be a rational explanation.

  In spite of myself, I turned with caution toward the stairwell just in time to see a bright red ball bounce down the last three steps. I snatched it up and listened. Was someone else in the house? Had one of the kids snuck inside to play a prank?

  I hurried to the kitchen and looked out the window. They were all in the backyard. Something must have dislodged the ball. It had probably been left behind by a child when the building was used for a store. I left it on the kitchen table and joined the others outside where they were attaching crows to gravestones.

  “Did anyone hear from Jesse?” I asked. Given the circumstances, I didn’t expect Blake to continue helping with the haunted house. I wondered if we needed to enlist extra help.

  “Jesse’s coming!” said Jen. “He texted me this morning.”

  I returned to the kitchen and hustled down the hallway before I realized something was wrong. I backed up and peered into the kitchen. The ball wasn’t on the table anymore.

  A chill ran through me. I tried to tell myself that there were lots of people in the house, never mind that I was fairly certain they were all out back. It could have rolled off the table, I reasoned. When I didn’t spot it on the floor, I forced myself to put it out of my mind. I was overreacting to every little thing.

  I climbed the ladder to work on the chandelier, and through the gauzy black curtain that hung over the window facing the street, I could just make out Maggie’s huge Hummer outside. I cringed when I heard her tires
spin. Reluctantly, I descended the ladder and went to open the door. I found Blake and his mother on the sidewalk in front of the haunted house.

  “I’ll make sure you get another school project.” Maggie brushed Blake’s hair with a trembling hand.

  “Mom! Don’t start that again.” He raised his hands to cover his ears. “I’m not listening.”

  Maggie looked like she might burst into tears when Blake ran past me into the house and disappeared inside. Walking toward me, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket in her jacket. Tight jeans accentuated her long legs. She could have been a lanky model in her Ralph Lauren blazer, but the fancy duds couldn’t erase the haunted and sleep-deprived appearance of her face.

  “I’m so sorry about Patrick,” I said.

  She lit a cigarette. “Thanks.” Her voice quavered when she said, “Please. Don’t let Blake out of your sight. I . . . I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him.”

  What was she so afraid of? “Is he in danger? Is there something I should know?” Had a dead doll landed on their doorstep, too?

  She seized my shoulder with the grip of a falcon and whispered, “Do you know about Viktor?”

  “Maggie!” A man I didn’t recognize barked at her from the parked Hummer.

  Her fingers flew to her mouth, covering it. “Take care of Blake,” she hissed as she scurried toward her car.

  Viktor? Of course! Blake went home and relayed June’s exotic story to his mom. I blew off her silly fear and greeted Jesse, who ran along the sidewalk. He stopped and tossed his hair out of his eyes. “Sorry I’m late.”

  Daisy loped to greet him, her tail wagging in a circle. We could hear an irritated voice coming from the kitchen. We peeked in and found Jen and Vegas working feverishly to decorate the kitchen as an otherworldly dining area that we had discussed the week before.

  “They’re coming to the preview tonight,” said Jen to Vegas.

  “Bleah.” Vegas stuck out her tongue. “Miss Perfect, Heather Corbin, would never miss an opportunity to chase Blake.”

  I could see Blake in the yard talking to Humphrey.

  “You have nothing to worry about, Vegas. It’s obvious that Blake doesn’t care about Heather. He wouldn’t be here if he wanted to spend time with her,” said Jen.

  “Hi,” said Jesse. “What should I do?”

  I ducked out and went back to my own job on the ladder.

  Moments later, Blake ambled into the witch’s lair and looked up at me. “Mrs. Winston? The window in Viktor’s room was open when I got here. Bernie said I should ask if you opened it.”

  “No, honey, I didn’t.”

  “Then who did?”

  I winked at him. “Viktor?”

  Blake shook his head. “No. Vampires don’t exist.”

  Finally! A kid with some sense. “I wish you would convince Vegas and Jen of that.”

  “Dad made sure I knew when I was growing up. He used to sneak me Count Chocula cereal and let me watch Count von Count on Sesame Street so I would see vampires as comic and fun.” He turned pensive. “I like dressing up as a vampire, but it’s all just in fun. Could I wrap that for you?”

  “Sure!” I dismounted and handed him the black cloth that I’d been strapping around the brass. I lowered my voice a bit. “I’m so sorry about Patrick. Are you sure you feel like being here? Everyone would understand . . .”

  He grasped the black cloth and scaled the ladder with athletic ease. “I’m glad Patrick is gone.” His eyes met mine briefly before he focused on the light fixture. “I guess that’s a terrible thing to say, but it’s the truth. Did you know him?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, I did. I’m glad he’s out of our lives. He used to spy on my mother. I hated him!” The fabric flew to the floor.

  I picked it up and handed it to him. “You can leave some hanging shreds. They make it look creepier.”

  “He moved into our house.” Blake’s voice grew hostile. “Our house! And then he bossed us around and made up stupid rules. I used to lie awake at night, thinking of ways to get rid of him.”

  “But your mother cared for him. She must be devastated.”

  “Once she realizes how much control he had over us, and what a jerk he was, she’ll be glad he’s gone, too. All those phony-baloney people are coming by the house with food and talking about what a great guy he was.” He stared down at me. “Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean he wasn’t a bad man.”

  I blinked at him. Hadn’t Gabriel called someone a bad man last night? It was a common enough phrase, but still . . .

  “Does that make me an awful person?” he asked.

  What could I say? “No. I think it’s sad that you feel this way about him. Don’t move, I’ll be right back with the crystals.” I walked to the kitchen entrance, only to be pushed back by three screaming banshees and Daisy, who pranced and barked like she was one of them.

  “You can’t come in here. This is our territory,” declared Jen.

  “I just wanted to retrieve my crystals for the light fixture.”

  “Jesse will get them for you,” said Vegas.

  I backed up, smiling from memories of being their age and trying to surprise my parents. Jesse raced back to me in the lair, breathless, and handed me the painted crystal prisms. I thanked him and raised them, one by one, to Blake to hang.

  “Do you believe in vampires?” asked Blake.

  I was beginning to get the feeling that all those phony-baloney people had kept Blake from being able to talk things out. “No, honey, I don’t.”

  He nodded and kept working.

  “Okay, you can come in now,” called Jen.

  I peeked first, then walked in slowly, taking in all the amazing details. Two skeletons sat at the kitchen table, now covered with an orange tablecloth. The sun flickered on warm walls, just a shade lighter than a pumpkin. A black candelabra draped with cobwebs acted as a centerpiece. The table had been set with what appeared to be hand-painted plates. “Did you make these?” I asked.

  Jen beamed. “In my pottery class.”

  Orange with black trim on the edges, each one featured stars and moons and the image of a black Halloween cat on the orange middle. “They’re fantastic, Jen!”

  Black napkins had been rolled up and fastened with orange ribbons imprinted with dancing ghosts. A drink of a vile electric green shade stood before each skeleton, a piece of dainty black lace wrapped around the stem and tied in a bow.

  They’d located a three-tiered cake stand somewhere, painted it orange, and glued on more of the black lace around the edges. It featured spiders on the top tier, except that a couple had escaped and made their way to the table; little white chocolate ghosts on the second tier; and tiny sugar pumpkins on the bottom tier.

  Everywhere I looked in the kitchen, they had arranged delightful vignettes. Clusters of spooky pumpkins perked up the old countertops, containers bearing skull-and-crossbone labels stood behind glass cabinet doors, and bats perched on shelves.

  A sign over the stove read, “Eat at Your Own Risk. They Did!” with an arrow pointing toward the graveyard in the back.

  I ran from kid to kid hugging them and telling them what a fantastic job they’d done. “We’ll have to take photos so your teachers and principals can see what you accomplished. It’s just amazing.”

  Unfortunately, the kitchen clock, which moaned every fifteen minutes, reminded me that we had less than four hours before the tours began. “I think we’d better do our final walk-through to be sure everything is ready, and then grab some lunch and change into our costumes.”

  The kids, Daisy, Humphrey, Bernie, and I paraded through the witch’s lair on our way to the foyer.

  “Isn’t that Mars’s mother?” asked Jen.

  I looked out the window. Sure enough, June stood on the sidewalk looking up at the house, her face contorted in an uncharacteristic scowl.

  I continued to the foyer and opened the front door. “You’re just in time to do a las
t round with us.”

  Beyond her across the street, Detective Kenner leaned against the red brick wall of a building. He lifted his head in a nod of recognition. I supposed I should be glad to know he was looking out for us, but his persistent attention to me always sent a chill along my spine.

  Nina hurried along the sidewalk and joined us, distracting me from Kenner.

  June smiled at her. “That hearse with the skeleton driving it is wonderful! What fun!”

  She stepped inside and accompanied us up the stairs. The kids chattered nonstop, but I noticed that June remained very quiet.

  When we reached the vampire’s bedroom, Jesse pounced on a silver cigarette case that lay on a table under the window. “I don’t remember this.”

  Neither did I. I looked to Humphrey and Bernie, but they seemed as perplexed as I was.

  June took the thin case and turned it over. “My old eyes can’t see like they used to. This looks like it’s sterling. Jen, can you see markings on it anywhere?”

  Jen dutifully studied it, with Vegas looking over her shoulder. When she turned it over, they both screamed, and Jen dropped the case as though it burned her hands. “That’s not funny, Blake.” Her hands trembled and she refused to pick it up.

  “What? I didn’t do anything.” Blake seemed genuinely perplexed.

  I picked up the cigarette case. On an oval in the middle of the sterling silver case were the fancy engraved initials VL.

  “Viktor Luca.” June’s breathy voice was barely audible.

  “Oh, come on,” I protested.

  “What else could VL stand for?” asked Vegas.

  “Maybe Vegas Lafferty? Or Vincent Lachen? Or Vera Luchese?” I placed the cigarette case near the martini glasses. “It’s certainly elegant—wherever it came from.”

  I urged them to move on, but June pressed an ice-cold hand against mine. “There’s something you should know.”

  A howl went up in the hallway, and we rushed out.

  Blake held his cell phone in his hands, and the girls stood on either side of him, clearly perturbed.