The Diva Haunts the House

by Krista Davis

  Not surprisingly, I slept late the next morning. Neither Mochie nor Daisy was in my bedroom when I woke. The rich aroma of coffee wafted to me as I trotted downstairs. Nina never made coffee. Aha. Jen must be trying to make amends. That was sweet.

  But there was no one in the kitchen. Not even Mochie. I poured myself a mug of pumpkin spice coffee with a hint of nutmeg and strolled through the family room to the sunroom. Not a soul to be seen. It was nearly noon, and the sun had heated the brick floor. I longed to plop onto the sofa and lounge, but I knew I’d better find my little delinquent.

  I ventured up the stairs and heard voices one flight up. Had Vegas returned? I’d better make sure Natasha, Mars, and I called each other to confirm where the girls were supposed to be so they couldn’t pull any more stunts. I padded up the stairs. June and Nina sat on chairs near an open storage-area door, looking through mementos. Jen clambered over boxes and odd pieces of old furniture, while Mochie and Daisy sniffed every corner.

  “I found another one, Gramma June!” Her tone became decidedly more somber when she added as properly as a British schoolgirl, “Good morning, Aunt Sophie.”

  Gramma June? Some serious bonding had been going on while I slept.

  Jen handed June a gold box tied with a ribbon. June opened it and cried, “Here he is!”

  Nina and I peered over her shoulder at a box full of photos. “Good morning. I assume you put on the coffee, June?”

  “That was Jen’s idea,” said June. “Look what she found. She’s such a big help.”

  Ohhh, someone had already told her tale of woe to Gramma June to acquire a sympathetic ally.

  June held up a picture. I recognized June and her sister, Faye, raising cut crystal martini glasses in a toast. June tapped the photo with her fingernail. “See the man in the corner?”

  He probably didn’t know the photo had been taken. It captured him in profile, with a straight nose and lustrous wavy hair. I could imagine him playing the role of a sensitive 1960s poet and strumming a guitar.

  “That’s Viktor.” June handed the photo to Nina and continued perusing the contents of the box.

  Nina studied the photo. “I’m not surprised that women flocked to him. He looks like he should pose for the cover of a romance novel.”

  “Add that seductive accent, and he was nearly irresistible.”

  I stretched, ready for a second cuppa.

  June turned to me. “Nina says the kids had quite a scare last night. It’s a shame some ghosts are malicious.”

  Under my breath, so Jen wouldn’t hear, I said, “Please, June, we don’t want to encourage them.”

  She waved her forefinger at me. “Don’t underestimate the powers of spirits. They’re not all as sweet as Faye.”

  I was surrounded by believers. What happened to just enjoying Halloween as fun? Citing my need for a second cup of coffee, I hustled down to my bedroom and pulled on my favorite hang-around-the-house chamois soft trousers and a cinnamon fleece sweatshirt that did nothing for me but felt soft and cozy. I should have showered and fixed my hair properly, but I really wanted that second cup of coffee after the long night. I wound my ponytail around a hair stick to pin it up and hurried to the kitchen. Lunch would soon be in order. I was just pouring my second cup when I looked out the kitchen window and saw Humphrey step out of a parked car. He’d barely taken two steps when Mars and Vegas jaywalked across the street in the direction of my house and joined him as he walked toward my front door.

  SEVENTEEN

  Dear Natasha,

  I thought the competition to have the best Christmas decorations was bad, but now the drive is on to impress the neighbors with Halloween decor. There are so many wonderful things we could do, but my boys and their friends aren’t easy to spook anymore. All my hard work with pum pkin s and branches and lights goes unappreciated. Any fresh ideas?

  —Den Leader Dad in Wolf’s Head, Georgia

  Dear Den Leader Dad,

  Play a prank on your sons. Use PVC pipe to construct a human-sized cage. Enlist the assistance of a friend and dress him in a werewolf or Frankenstein costume. Put a strobe light on him inside the cage and let him surprise the neighborhood kids by being “alive” when they least expect it.

  —Natasha

  I met them at the front door and glanced around for another dreaded dead doll. Fortunately, I didn’t see one. “Has something happened, or is this some kind of intervention?”

  Humphrey murmured, “We need to talk.”

  Nina raced down the stairs. “I hate being out of the loop! What’s going on?”

  Vegas didn’t bother saying hello. “Where’s Jen?”

  I pointed upstairs. She took off like she hadn’t seen Jen in months. Mars slung an arm around my shoulders. “I hope it’s okay. Vegas pestered me to death about coming over here. She had to see Jen. Brrr, it’s cold in here. No wonder you look like a polar bear.”

  He strode straight to the kitchen fireplace and tossed logs in with kindling.

  Nina scowled at me. “Why do I feel like I’ve missed something?”

  If she only knew. Nina was my best friend, and had I been Jen’s age, I probably would have pulled her aside and spewed the details of Mars’s kiss the night before. But in the light of day, that romantic moment seemed like something I had only dreamed and in any event was perhaps best left unmentioned.

  A fire blazed by the time I poured coffee for everyone. I did a quick head count and decided paella was in order for the cold day. While Mars brought Humphrey up to speed about our late-night excursion and the attack on me, I watched chicken legs brown in a deep cast-iron pan. I added sausage slices, along with paprika for flavor, and set them aside when they were done. I poured the rice into the pan with golden yellow saffron and a sprinkling of oregano, and turned the mixture to coat the rice. Finally, I poured in clam juice and diced tomatoes and mixed in the sausage and chicken. I ladled the entire mixture into a baking dish, covered it, and slid it into the oven.

  I joined Nina, Humphrey, and Mars at the kitchen table. In the company of my close friends, I dared to ask, “Mars, last night I got the feeling you knew something that you didn’t tell us.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Four kids saw things—things that appeared, things that went missing. One of those four seemed less spooked than the others. Plus, we caught a fifth person tearing out of the house, and we know that Heather was instrumental in the shenanigans. When I do the math, I’m hoping it doesn’t mean that Heather is really our boy Blake’s honey, and that the two of them are pulling some kind of cruel joke on Vegas.”

  I was stunned. Heather had already proven her propensity for maliciousness, but it hadn’t occurred to me that Blake might be in on it, and that poor Vegas could be their target. What a sad and frightening notion. “If that’s the case, it would explain the appearance of the dead doll on our doorstep. I bet she left it there to scare Vegas.”

  Nina poured herself another cup of coffee. “Gee, Blake seems like such a nice kid. However, if Mars’s theory is right, it would explain what he was doing in the alley the night of Patrick’s death. He probably knew Heather was babysitting, and paid her a visit to neck.”

  “It doesn’t explain why he was wearing his vampire costume. It reflects on him poorly either way. Either he’s being mean to Vegas, or he killed Patrick.” I toyed with my coffee mug. “I’m thinking about sending Jen down to stay with my parents. It’s gotten too dangerous. I thought I could keep an eye on her, but last night she proved that was only my naive stupidity.”

  Humphrey frowned and tapped his foot on the floor.

  “Bad timing,” muttered Nina.

  I didn’t understand what she meant until seconds later when Jen barreled up from behind me. She planted her fists on her hips. “You don’t mean that!”

  I could barely bring myself to look at her face out of fear that I would cave in. “I do mean it. What if something had happened to you last night? Your parents trusted me to take care of you, and now t
here’s a killer on the loose who probably thinks we can identify him. You would be much safer with your grandparents.”

  Vegas walked up to Jen and stood beside her like a warrior reinforcement. “We were fine! None of us was hurt or bitten by a vampire last night!”

  I thought Jen might cry. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders from behind and rested her head against mine. “If I leave, there won’t be anyone to watch over you.”

  Uh-uh. I wasn’t falling for that. It also meant no birthday party with her friends.

  Nina crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you know that several people, including me, saw Blake in the alley the night of Patrick’s death?”

  “Blake!” Jen released me.

  June settled at the table. “Oh my! He has such nice manners. I would never have thought it of him.”

  Mars’s eyes widened in surprise. “Mom! I didn’t know you were here.”

  “The girls and I have had the best time looking through Faye’s old things.”

  Vegas glared at Nina. “You’re wrong. It must have been someone who looked like Blake.”

  “I’m sorry, honey,” said Nina. “He was even wearing his vampire cape.”

  Jen crossed one arm over her chest like Nina, but she held her elbow with her hand and used the other hand to tap her lips. “Verrrry interesting.”

  I wanted to giggle at her dramatic sleuthing pose, but bit my lip.

  “What do you know, Jen?” asked Humphrey.

  “Blake wouldn’t do anything like that,” she said. “He’s . . . he’s cerebral, like you, Humphrey. Yet . . . there’s more going on than meets the eye, or he would have told Vegas and me about it.”

  “I agree with Jen,” said Humphrey. “That’s why I’m here. I overheard a couple of cops talking about Blake this morning. He’s young, but he could have easily coaxed Patrick outside. Their theory was that he jumped on top of one of the hay bales, which would have given him a height advantage, and clamped something over Patrick’s nose to asphyxiate him.”

  “The person who accosted me wasn’t standing on anything.”

  Except for Humphrey, my friends didn’t do a very good job hiding their amusement.

  “Sophie, I feel quite confident that Blake is endowed with sufficient height to attack you.” Humphrey’s deadpan seriousness brought the rest of them to laughter.

  “No!” shouted Vegas, stomping her foot. “You know it couldn’t have been Blake.”

  Humphrey drew back at her outburst. “I’m inclined to be of the same mind. I spent hours working with Blake on the haunted house. He’s not a killer.” He leaned toward me. “We have to help him.”

  “Maybe that’s a good idea.” Nina stirred her coffee. “His mother certainly won’t be of any assistance to him. She’s been an oddball as long as I’ve known her. Afraid of her own shadow.”

  “I can’t imagine it was the boy,” said Humphrey. “Most adults can’t figure out how to asphyxiate someone without leaving any marks on the body. It’s unlikely a child could be so clever.”

  “But there were marks on the body—the vampire bite,” said Jen.

  “He didn’t die from loss of blood, though,” explained Humphrey. “He died because he couldn’t get air.”

  Jen’s little forehead wrinkled, and a tidal wave of guilt swept over me. She was entirely too young for this. Humphrey’s explanation had been simple and clinical, which was good, but I wondered if she and Vegas should be exposed to any of it.

  Jen’s lips pulled tight, and she threw a doubtful glance at Vegas. “I’m sorry, Aunt Sophie. I’m really, really sorry, and I promise I’ll never sneak out or do anything like that again. Ever. Pinky-swear.” She held out her pinky and twined it with mine. “Now can I stay? Pleeease? I don’t want to miss out on the haunted house fun.” Her head bowed, she added, “Or my party.”

  Mars rested his hand on top of mine. I thought Nina’s eyes might bug right out of her head. While I was debating how to extract my hand without hurting Mars’s feelings or drawing everyone else’s attention to the situation, Mars said, “Sophie, if we send the girls to stay with someone else, the killer will be convinced that they know something. They might even be in more danger from him. There’s safety in numbers. You’ll all be safer if you stay together. I can sleep over to protect you.”

  Whoa! I suspected I was the only person in the room who was shocked by his suggestion. “No, no, no. That’s not necessary. I think Jen was wrong about the killer leaving the dead doll. That must have been the work of Heather the Horrid.”

  June interrupted me with a sly smile. “Don’t be so quick to turn Mars down. Remember, Viktor was able to take advantage of Peggy Zane when they were alone together.”

  I slid my hand out from under Mars’s and leaped to my feet. “I have to make cornbread!” I preheated the other oven and slid a square cast-iron pan into it to warm so the cornbread would sizzle and form a crust when I poured in the batter. Glad that I could busy myself and hide my face, which burned from embarrassment and must have been the color of red wine, I stirred together cornmeal, tangy buttermilk, and a can of creamed corn.

  Humphrey puffed up his chest. “I can take turns with Mars.”

  Good heavens! Surely Humphrey wasn’t serious? I finally looked at my friends.

  Nina grinned at me, and it wasn’t a sweet I’m-your-concerned-friend grin, it was a sneaky this-is-going-to-be-hilarious smirk. “That’s settled then. One big sleepover. I’m in.”

  I had to resist the urge to stick my tongue out at her. I poured the cornbread mixture into the hot pan and slid it back into the oven to bake. Looking for a reason not to return to my seat next to Mars, I checked the paella and added peas and shrimp while savoring the tempting aroma that wafted from the pot. But the food didn’t distract me for long. Jen sat on the window seat, stroking Mochie’s fur, and I couldn’t help worrying about her. Part of me yearned to ship her to safety. Was Mars right? Would the killer be misled into thinking Jen could identify him and had gone into hiding? She deserved a second chance, I reasoned, and I could always change my mind and cart her down to my parents’ home in the country. For now, I would keep a close eye on her.

  I opened the cupboard and took down green majolicastyle plates from Portugal. When I ladled the paella onto them, the saffron color of the rice contrasted nicely with the green of the plates. Mars ticked me off by rising to assist me. When had he become so helpful? He graciously handed out the plates, along with forks, knives, and orange and green napkins imprinted with huge golden mums.

  I slid the platter of cornbread squares onto the middle of the table, where everyone could help themselves. “I guess it would send the wrong message to shut down the haunted house.”

  The cry that rose could probably be heard all the way down to the river.

  “We’re sticking together.” Jen raised a piece of cornbread like it was a saber. “All for one and one for all.” She looked at me, her brow furrowed. “Right, Aunt Sophie?”

  I picked up a piece of cornbread and mimicked her battle stance. “You bet!” I was in it up to my ears now.

  June buttered a piece of cornbread. “I don’t know these people as well as you do, but I’m usually a good judge of character. Young Blake is a proper gentleman. He’s not a calculating killer. I’m all for tracking down the real killer to assist that young man.”

  I had other reasons to uncover the killer—namely so I wouldn’t have to look over my shoulder every minute or worry about Jen’s safety. Plus it drove me nuts that everyone felt obligated to protect me. “Blake never made a secret of his hatred for Patrick. Don’t you think a twelve-year-old would be smart enough to keep those feelings private if he planned to murder someone?” I asked.

  “Thirteen,” corrected Jen.

  I continued with my train of thought. “I like Dash, but maybe he couldn’t deal with the divorce, and he killed Patrick out of jealousy. That’s a lot more likely.”

  Vegas stared at her plate, her arms hanging limply
by her sides.

  “Don’t you like paella?” I asked.

  She nodded and pushed it with her fork, but didn’t take a bite.

  “We love paella!” said Mars. “Natasha won’t cook anything that comes out of one pan. Vegas and I sneak out for fun food. Don’t we, Vegas?”

  “I just feel so terrible about Blake.” Vegas toyed with her spoon. “I don’t understand why he would have come here wearing his vampire costume. Why didn’t he mention it? He couldn’t have killed Patrick. I mean, he hated him and all, but he wouldn’t have killed him. I wish we could do something to help him.”

  “Can we help Blake, Aunt Sophie? You’ve been involved in murder investigations before. Couldn’t we please help him by finding the real killer?” asked Jen. “We’ll do whatever you tell us.”

  Humphrey reached for cornbread. “I, for one, like young Blake. Jen’s quite right. He’s an insightful young man. Besides, there’s a question to be answered here. When we know the answer, we will know the identity of the killer.”

  Everyone stopped eating and paid attention.

  “The murderer went to lengths to make it appear that a vampire killed Patrick. Why?”

  It was a good question.

  “Publicity?” Humphrey looked at me.

  I sagged. “Humphrey! You know me better than that. Staging a vampire bite is one thing, but killing someone? Oh please! This is the same thing the kids were talking about last night. I had nothing to do with it.” I raised my empty hand in protest. “In spite of whatever idiotic rumors might be on the Internet.”

  “A person would have to be insane to murder someone for publicity for a haunted house.” Nina smacked Humphrey playfully.

  “Suppose the killer wanted to cast suspicion on someone else?” Humphrey directed his reply to Nina.

  “Wait a minute,” I cried. “Are you implying that someone killed Patrick to make me look guilty? That’s crazy. Besides, I only met him one time.”