How to Survive a Killer Seance

by Penny Warner

“Yep. Cops said it looked like the woman fell into the debris, and then, when her husband went to help her, he also fell. That caused a major landslide of old magazines, books, and other junk. They hadn’t been seen for a week, but nobody bothered to check on them.”

  “That’s awful!” I shivered. I promised myself that when I returned home this afternoon I’d do a thorough decluttering of my place. No way was I going to let Brad find me in a heap of stale chips, dirty underwear, and cat puke.

  “Okay, well, I’ve got to run,” I said, shaking off the image and remembering my priorities. I handed him an extra key I kept in my kitchen junk drawer. “Lock up when you leave. And thanks for the latte and bagel.” I gave him a quick kiss, like a housewife headed for the dry cleaner, and flew out the door.

  On the hour-long drive over to the Winchester Mystery House, my thoughts ping-ponged between memories of last night with Brad and visions of last night at the party. By the time I arrived at the mansion, Brad was winning the match.

  I parked, dashed inside the front door of the gift shop, and knocked at Mia’s door.

  No answer.

  A security guard I didn’t recognize entered from another door. He appeared startled to see me.

  “May I help you?” he asked, frowning.

  “Yes, I’m Presley Parker . . .”

  He glanced round. “How did you get in? We’re not open yet.”

  “I’m the event planner . . . was, anyway . . . for the Séance Party held here last night. Mia showed me which door to use.”

  He crossed his arms as if waiting for a better explanation.

  “I’m here early because I left a few things behind and came to collect them.”

  Blank look.

  “Where’s Mia?”

  “She’s in the ballroom with another lady.”

  “Oh great! That’s where I need to go. Can you take me there?”

  The guard pulled the walkie out of his belt and spoke into the squawky mic. I heard Mia’s voice at the other end give permission for me to join her.

  “This way.” He led me along a winding path to the ballroom that was becoming more and more familiar to me.

  “Hi, Mia,” I said as I entered. “Sorry I’m late. I meant to get here earlier. Looks like I still beat the tourists. I just came to get a box of candlesticks I left behind—”

  “Hey, Presley.” Stephanie Bryson appeared from the doorway that led to Delicia’s green room.

  “Stephanie! What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I came to check on the 4-D Projector,” Stephanie said. “Anyone seen Levi? He didn’t come into the office this morning. He’s always there early.”

  Mia and I looked at each other and shook our heads.

  “What about Jonathan? Did he show up?” I asked.

  “No sign of him either,” Stephanie said.

  Jonathan was still missing? Or was I jumping to conclusions? Maybe he was with Lyla somewhere, working out their problems—or battling them out.

  Stephanie rapped on the door that led to Levi’s temporary workplace. No answer.

  “Mia,” Stephanie called out. “This door’s locked. Can you open it, please? Levi said he’d bring the projector into the office this morning, but he never showed. Jonathan will kill me if anything happens to it.”

  Locked? It had been locked when I went to see Levi last night. But I’d made sure it was open when I left.

  Mia pulled out a ring of keys as she headed over. She found the one she was looking for and inserted it into the lock. With a quick twist of her wrist, she opened the door, then stepped aside to allow Stephanie to enter.

  I was putting the last few candlesticks into a cardboard box when I heard a scream.

  Stephanie appeared at the door, her eyes wide, her mouth covered by trembling hands.

  “Stephanie?” I said, rushing toward her. Goose bumps had broken out along my arms. “What’s wrong? Is the projector gone?”

  She shook her head, her hands slowly sliding down from her face.

  “It’s Levi! He’s . . . dead!”

  Chapter 12

  PARTY PLANNING TIP #12

  You may think your Séance Party is unsuccessful if no actual spirits appear. But look for subtle signs of their presence, such as the smell of perfume, an odd reflection in a nearby mirror, or a participant’s sudden feeling of trepidation.

  Levi? Dead?

  Please, no.

  I rushed into the room—big mistake when there’s a dead body inside—and saw Levi Webster slumped over his computer keyboard. The back of his head was a mass of thick, coagulated blood, dotted with bits of white matter. Blood had dripped down the side of his neck and seeped into his T-shirt.

  My stomach clenched.

  “What happened?” Mia said, following me inside moments later. She gasped when she saw Levi’s mutilated head and slumped body. Meanwhile, Stephanie had pulled back at the door and stood cringing at the sight.

  “Stephanie! Call nine-one-one!” I yelled to her. No response, just a glazed look. “Stephanie! Now!”

  “Okay . . .” she whimpered, finally withdrawing her cell phone.

  “Don’t touch anything,” I told Mia, who was reaching to pick up something from the floor. I glanced down. A large brass candlestick lay at the back of Levi’s feet. The corner of the heavy end was covered in blood.

  “The candlestick,” Mia whispered, recoiling her hand and crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s like a real game of Clue. What do you think happened?”

  I took a deep breath, trying to get control of my nausea. When the dizziness passed, I glanced around, avoiding looking at Levi’s wound directly, and said, “It seems pretty obvious. Someone hit Levi, probably from behind, then dropped the candlestick, and ran.” I glanced outside the open door and yelled, “Stephanie? Did you call?”

  She appeared in the doorway, calmer now, more like her controlled self. “Yes, the police are on their way.”

  “Oh dear,” Mia said. “I hate the thought of a bunch of police cars out front. Not good for business, you know.”

  I shot her a look that said, “This is not the time to be worried about appearances.” Out loud I said, “A man has been murdered, Mia.”

  She nodded and stepped out of the room, and pulled out her cell phone. In spite of my urge to throw up, I remained in the room a few minutes, checking for any clue as to who might have killed Levi. Lyla? Jonathan?

  It had happened as a result of my party and the weapon was one of my party props. I felt somewhat responsible. I knew once the police arrived, I wouldn’t get another chance to do much investigating of my own. And the last time something like this happened, I was nearly arrested as a suspect. I wouldn’t let that happen again.

  I studied the crime scene, quickly making mental notes. Levi appeared to have been working on the computer, probably still trying to figure out what had gone wrong at the séance. His right hand was on the keyboard, the left had dropped to his side. He’d been struck from behind—that was clear. The door we’d entered was on his left side. It had been locked last night when I knocked on the door, I’d left it unlocked. Then it was locked again.

  The bloody candlestick lay on the floor behind him. Hopefully there would be prints on the weapon, but my guess was, probably not. Even the dumbest criminals knew to wear gloves or wipe off prints after they’d killed their victims.

  Unless it wasn’t premeditated, or the killer was forced to leave quickly.

  I checked the computer screen. It was dark. What had Levi been working on when he’d been attacked?

  I looked around for something to use to tap a key and bring up the sleeping screen. I spotted a pencil at the far corner of the desk and picked it up by the tip. I held it over the computer keyboard and tapped a key with the eraser end.

  The screen came alive, filled with a bunch of numbers, much like I’d seen the night before. Must have been some kind of coded program for the 4-D presentation that Jonathan had requested. Had Levi finally figured
out what had caused the glitch?

  Or who had hacked into the program?

  I heard the sound of sirens in the distance. The police would be here momentarily. I didn’t want to be accused of “tampering” with the crime scene, so I stepped back into the ballroom, got out my iPhone, and called Brad. Glancing around while I waited for him to answer, I spotted Stephanie still on her phone and likewise Mia on hers. I left Brad a short message—something along the lines of “Come quick!”—then waited for the police to arrive.

  Two uniformed officers from the San Jose Police Department cordoned off the room, while one of two detectives asked the three of us—Mia, Stephanie, and me—to stay until he could question us. We’d been waiting nearly thirty minutes when Brad finally arrived.

  “Thank goodness you’re here,” I said, rushing up to him. “You’ll never believe what happened . . .”

  But he didn’t look surprised at all. “I know. Someone found a body. I heard it on the police scanner. You okay?”

  Of course he did. “It was Stephanie—she found him. She was pretty shaken up, although she seems better now.”

  “You okay? Of course, it’s not like you’ve never seen a dead body before, right?”

  “Very funny.”

  “Brad!” the taller, better-looking detective called as he strode over. Odd . . . he looked familiar. But I’d never had any dealings with the San Jose Police.

  “Hey, Lonnie.” Brad grinned widely and gave the officer a vigorous handshake. “Long time, no see. How’s your golf game?”

  “Better than yours,” the detective replied.

  “We’ll have to see about that,” Brad countered.

  The two of them threw a few more manly barbs at each other. Finally Brad remembered I existed and turned to me. “Presley, this is Lonnie Melvin. Detective Lonnie Melvin, that is. Congrats on passing the exam, by the way.”

  “Melvin?” I repeated, shaking his proffered hand. “You’re not related to Detective Luke Melvin of the San Francisco Police Department, I hope.”

  “My big brother.” He grinned proudly.

  Oh boy. That was all I needed—another Melvin cop in my life. That was why he’d looked so familiar. I could see the resemblance, in spite of the fact that Lonnie had auburn hair, light freckles, and green eyes, while Luke Melvin was blue-eyed, black-haired, and freckle-free. Not to mention, always on my case. Two cops in the same family? They probably came from a long line of police officers. Lucky me.

  Brad followed Lonnie to the crime scene, while I finished filling another box with mini Ouija board key chains. At the same time, questions kept popping into my head like inflated balloons. Last night I had deliberately left Levi’s door ajar when I finished talking with him. This morning it was locked.

  Had Levi shut and locked it? Or the killer?

  If it was the killer, when had he arrived? Soon after the party broke up? Or sometime early this morning?

  Had I been the one who inadvertently let him in by not closing the door? Or did Levi know the killer and let him in?

  Or did the killer have a key?

  The questions were driving me crazy. It would take a medical examiner, a trained detective, or a real psychic to determine some answers.

  Mia approached me as I closed the box of party props.

  “Who do you suppose did this?” she whispered. “Someone from the party last night?”

  I wondered where her concern lay—for the dead man? Or for the reputation of the Winchester House? And I also wondered if her brief affair with Jonathan played any part in this.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Whoever it was obviously went in some time after we left last night. The door was open when I left Levi, but it was locked this morning because you had to use a key to get in.”

  “You know that’s not the only entrance to the room, don’t you?’ Mia asked.

  I blinked. I’d not thought of a second door—and certainly hadn’t seen one when I went in there.

  Mia went on. “I told you, this mansion is full of secret doors and hidden passageways. It’s like something out of a Nancy Drew mystery. Some of the doors only open from one side, some lock automatically when they close, and some are just facades.”

  “So you’re saying someone could have gotten into that room from another entrance?”

  “In that particular room, yes. There’s a door inside the closet. But we keep that door locked, too.”

  Two doors to one room. One hidden in a closet. Both supposedly locked.

  “You don’t think . . .” Mia began, then pressed her lips together as if trying to keep the words from pouring out.

  “What?”

  “Well, Lyla and Jonathan were really upset last night. Remember how they stormed out of here? Do you think one of them might have killed that poor computer guy? I’ll bet Jonathan was furious at Levi for exposing all his secrets.”

  Where were Lyla and Jonathan?

  No one had seen them since they’d left the party last night. According to Stephanie, Jonathan had not turned up at work, and Lyla had not answered the cell phone that was practically glued to her ear. Both seemed to have disappeared . . .

  A balloon popped inside my head. Could they have disappeared into the Winchester Mystery House? Were they still here somewhere? Trapped? Lost? Hiding? There were so many places a person could be in this 160-room mansion.

  Brad and Detective Lonnie Melvin reappeared from the crime scene. A forensics team had arrived to do their CSI thing. Dr. Vicki Huynh, the ME, according to her name tag, was the last to arrive—a petite, slim woman with short dark hair. Melvin began talking with her, while Brad sauntered on over to me.

  “Do they have any ideas?” I asked Brad.

  “Not yet. Hit over the head from behind. Don’t know exactly how the killer got in—both doors were locked. Nothing seems to be missing.”

  He’d apparently found the hidden door—the one I had missed. I mentioned to Brad that I’d left the door open last night, then asked, “The killer just left all that expensive, high-tech equipment behind?”

  “Appears so. But Lonnie will have his computer guys take a thorough look. Although someone could have downloaded something using a flash drive and just walked off with it.”

  I hadn’t thought of that.

  Two technicians brought out the body on a gurney, wrapped in an opaque plastic bag, and wheeled him out the main ballroom exit. Luckily, I couldn’t see the wound, but the memory of what I had seen made the room spin again.

  “You okay?” Brad asked, grabbing my arm.

  “Fine,” I said brushing him off.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Okay. Well, it looks like they’re done, so I better get to work.” He gave me a last squeeze, then returned to the room where Levi had died. The body had been removed, but the blood remained, and that was Brad’s jurisdiction.

  “Miss Parker?” I heard my name called and turned to see Detective Luke Melvin’s brother standing behind me.

  “Yes?” I said. My heart began to beat rapidly. I was always nervous talking to Luke Melvin, and apparently it would be the same talking to Lonny Melvin.

  “I just want to ask you a couple of questions. You’re the one who found the body?”

  “No, that was Stephanie. Mia let her into the office, Stephanie went in, she screamed. Then I went in.”

  He had already talked to Mia and Stephanie, so I wondered if this was a trick question, an attempt to trip me up and—What? Confess? That was what Luke Melvin would have done.

  Lonnie Melvin asked a few more questions, jotted down a few notes, then said if I remembered anything else to call him. He gave me his card and returned to the crime scene.

  Left on my own, I thought about poor Levi. More questions bubbled up like sparkling champagne.

  Who had access to the room? Just about anyone who was at the party—the guests, the staff, even the caterers. And waiters.

  Who had access to the candlestick?
Likewise—anyone.

  Well, that narrowed it down.

  I thought about MOM—one of the many things I’d learned from hanging out with Brad. Determine the Method, Opportunity, and Motive. Retrieving my notepad from my purse, I sat down, and jotted down some facts.

  I knew the method—the heavy brass candlestick. I wrote that down, then added “Fingerprints?”

  I’d learn the opportunity—the approximate time Levi was killed—when the ME came back with her results. I left a question mark.

  But what was the motive? Why had Levi been murdered? I did a little brainstorming and came up with some possible motives:

  1. Jonathan was enraged at Levi for embarrassing him at his own function. That was a strong one. Jonathan carried the candlestick out of the room and could easily have used it on Levi.

  2. Lyla could have been furious at Levi for exposing something she may have already known—that her husband was a philanderer of epic proportions. And she could have bashed Levi’s head in. I remembered Lyla having some sort of conversation with someone about a “surprise” she had planned. What was that about?

  3. Girlfriends: Jonathan had allegedly slept with a number of the women who had been present at the party, and Levi had named them—Violet, the administrative assistant; Courtney, his limo driver; even Mia, the manager of the mansion. Maybe one of them had been mad enough to hammer Levi for dragging her name through the mud.

  4. Someone else at the party who had had a grudge against Levi, like one of the filmmakers or investors.

  5. Someone trying to steal Jonathan’s 4-D technology—and Levi was in the way.

  I closed my notebook and stepped over to the doorway of the crime scene, blocked by yellow police tape. Brad was on his hands and knees in his white jumpsuit, pressing a cloth into the bloodstained carpet. Detective Melvin had disappeared.

  “How’s it going?” I asked.

  He looked up. “We’ll see. This carpet is hand-painted. It’s really old and very delicate.”

  I looked over the Victorian carpet, with faded cabbage roses in peach and forest green. “Did you find anything . . . unusual yet?”