by CeeCee James
I nodded, and he filled my glass a few inches, the red liquid swirling against the sides.
“Grandma?” he asked.
“No, thank you, Frank. And quit stalling.”
“Honestly, I can’t talk about that, Grandma.” He forked in a mouthful of potatoes as if the food alone would save him.
“Oh, shush,” Cecelia said with a wave of her hand. “Of course you can. It’s just us.”
“Just you and one of the witnesses, you mean,” he said, now raising an eyebrow at me.
I shrugged. “It’s just me. It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes. Again, his hand went to that old scar on his chest.
“How about hypothetically?” Cecilia prodded.
“How about hypothetically, this could get me fired?” he shot back.
“Well, I have some news,” I said.
They both turned to me.
“Who has the upstairs room on the right, overlooking the back yard?” I asked Cecelia.
She was shaking her head before I finished. “Why, no one, GiGi. Why?”
Hm. Well that put a damper on my clue. “Eliza Sue said she saw Mr. Peterson climb up the tree after a secret meeting with Rachel Green. Actually climb the tree! Her husband supposedly came out and nearly caught the two of them. I looked, and there isn’t a screen on the window nearest to the tree.”
Frank frowned as he took a sip of wine. “Rachel Green and David Peterson, huh?”
Cecelia zeroed in on him like a cat spotting a fly. “You’ve got something good. I can tell.”
His eyes shifted away. “It’s just curious, that’s all.”
“Franklin James Wagner! You better quit beating around the bush! Don’t make me come after you with my slipper like I used to do when you were a little boy!” Cecelia scolded.
Frank set down the glass and glanced at his grandma. A twinkle sparkled in his eye, and his lips quirked like he might laugh. It was kind of funny to think of. This five-foot grandma shaking her finger at her much taller and bulkier grandson. But Frank acquiesced. “Well, Grandma, that threat’s pretty scary.” He turned to me. “This is not public info,” he said, pointing his finger at my face.
I nodded, eager for any more information.
He scooped up a bite of meat and chewed thoughtfully. I could practically see the gears in his head turning: do I tell or not?
Finally, he spilled. “We found a connection between those two in Brooklyn.”
“You’re kidding me! What is it?” I asked.
“Peterson is a used car salesman. Apparently, the Greens spent some time looking at cars.”
“The Greens were looking for a used car?”
“Apparently. Mr. Peterson and Mrs. Green spent quite a bit of time together trying to find the perfect one. Alone.” His eyebrow arched at the last word.
“You think there might be some truth to them getting together, then. How did you find out?” I asked.
“This part I’m not too excited about. It was an anonymous tip.”
“Why don’t you like those?”
“Because I never know the motive of the person giving the tip.”
I sat back, considering that. I may have thought Frank was a stick in the mud, but one thing I knew for sure. He was a darn good cop. I hated to admit it, but he’d impressed me a few times.
“Do you think Mr. Green knew?” I asked.
He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not sure. Did you see anything that indicated they knew each other?”
I thought about it and shook my head, and then glanced at Cecelia. “How about you? You were here with them longer.”
She pursed her lips and glanced at the ceiling. After a second, she answered, “No. As far as I knew, all seven of them were meeting for the first time. Although, there was one odd thing.”
“Odd?” both Frank and I said at the same time.
I muttered, “Jinx, you owe me a soda,” more from old habit rather than anything else. I was caught off guard when he grinned at me.
“Wow, does that take me back.”
I smiled in return. “You probably owe me a thousand sodas. You never paid me back.”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I was kind of a jerk.”
I let that comment pass. It made me uncomfortable, and I wasn’t sure why. Quickly, I returned to the subject. “What was odd?”
“Well, Mr. Green said he’d been invited here. To our place.”
“What?” I said. “Who invited him?”
“I’m not sure. He had the invitation and everything.”
Frank leaned forward. “Are you serious? Where is it now?”
“Where is what? The invitation? Well, I hardly know. I suppose Mrs. Green took it with her when she left earlier.”
Frank pulled out his phone and quickly texted. “We’ve got to track that down.”
I was excited, too. It sounded like the first real clue.
Frank continued to text for a minute, and then put his phone away. He took another sip of his wine, deep in thought.
“Sheriff Parker told me you recovered a penny,” I said. “A wheat penny that was used in the lamp.”
He glanced at me like he’d forgotten I was there. “Oh. Yeah. It was still jammed in the socket. Not sure what to make of it yet. Those kinds of pennies aren’t around a lot anymore. At the same time, it could have just been a coincidence. And we also know what the murder weapon was, a replica of a 1779 double-edged dagger, over nine inches in length.”
My eyes widened.
“Well, it sounds like everything about that man was a quandary,” Cecelia said. “More pot roast, anyone?”
“Did Mr. Green ever recognize you?” I asked Cecelia.
“Georgie!” she softly scolded. Her cheeks grew pink.
Frank narrowed his eyes at his grandma. “What’s this? You knew him?”
Cecelia sighed. “I knew him years ago. When we were both in our twenties. I met him at his family’s investing firm. We’d both just been hired on, so we bonded a little bit, being new.”
“Bonded, huh?” He lifted a dark eyebrow.
She blushed and waved her napkin at him. “You stop now.”
“You know, his investment firm’s in some trouble,” Frank said. “One of the local unions is going after them, saying they falsely invested the union’s retirement fund. There’s an audit going on, and Mr. Green’s company is filing for bankruptcy as a result.” He rubbed his jaw as his forehead furrowed with wrinkles. “This is definitely a puzzle. The guy has too many enemies, but none that fit the crime.”
“Bankrupt! My goodness. And that business was so old.” Cecelia sighed.
“You know,” he said to me, “we’re starting to lean in the direction that someone was waiting in the building the entire time for you guys to show up. There was a break-in the night before.”
I nodded. “I wondered if that was a possibility, but it seems so hard to believe.”
“Well, there’s one more suspect you both haven’t thought of yet. You know how they say that building is haunted.” Cecelia took a bite of her potatoes as if she hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary.
“I think it’s haunted all right, by something flesh and blood,” Frank replied.
“As far as I’m concerned, it was only a matter of time before it happened.” Cecelia shrugged.
“What do you mean, Cecelia?” I asked.
“That place has always been wrapped up in ghostly rumors. Maybe the soldiers have been waiting all this time.”
Chapter 16
After helping out with the dishes and packaging the rest of the food to put away, I left Cecelia’s for my apartment. I hurried to turn on the table lamp and wandered into my room. I chucked my purse on the dresser, and then eyed my bed. I was super tired.
Seconds passed as I stood there, staring at the bed. My body cried out with weariness. My brain felt numb. I hadn’t tried to sleep on my own for a while. It really might wo
rk tonight. I might be able to do it. I think I can.
But the mere thought of attempting it made fear grip my heart, and I rushed into the kitchen. I couldn’t face it. Couldn’t face the nightmares that might show up.
I got a glass of water and scrambled for my sleeping pills. The lid was stubborn and fueled the panic that was building inside me. Finally, it came off and a few pills spilled into my shaking hand.
Quickly, I swallowed one. I wandered to my bedroom feeling a combination of relief and guilt. It took about two nanoseconds after my head hit the pillow for me to fall asleep. Sleep I knew wouldn’t be disturbed by the monsters in the dark.
The next morning, I woke up fairly refreshed. I walked into the kitchen. The prescription bottle stared accusingly at me as I poured a cup of coffee. Ignoring it, I took my mug and an apple into the other room. I had to get the right mindset on. Today might be another long day at Cecelia’s, filled with squabbling guests.
I clicked on the TV and took a bite of my apple. I flipped through channels for a few minutes with no luck. Sometimes, I wondered why I even paid for cable. I was just about to give up when an English-accented voice stopped me. I paused for a second. The woman was cracking an egg and laughing.
“Now, do you know what to do when you crack an egg and get a shell in the batter?” She smiled into the camera.
I sat back and listened.
“Before you dig around to get it, wet your finger first. The shell will be much more likely to glom onto it.” She did a quick demonstration.
I took another bite and watched her finish the recipe, homemade chocolate cake. It made me laugh at how easily entertained I was, but watching how she spun the cake on a glass pedestal while she frosted it was mesmerizing. She even covered it in scraped chocolate curls.
When it was over, I clicked off the TV, convinced I could make that.
Maybe.
After getting dressed, I threw back the last sip of coffee, chucked the apple core, and then headed out for the Baker Street B&B.
The house was quiet, with only Eliza Sue in the living room. Her curls were limp and she looked rather groggy, clutching a mug of coffee. I waved at her as I passed on my way to the kitchen.
“Good morning, GiGi,” Cecelia said, her hands working with a pile of dough. She seemed to be moving a bit slower than usual.
“Good morning, Auntie. How’d you sleep?”
“Oh, I can’t complain.” She cut the dough in half and placed it into two greased pans. These she covered them with a clean dish cloth and moved closer to the stovetop. “You got a phone call this morning.”
“Here? Who was it?”
“Leslie Stilton from Three Maidens’. She asked if you could swing by the manor sometime today.”
I got eggs and bacon from the fridge, wondering what the curator wanted now. “Can I have her number?”
Cecelia passed her phone over, and I dialed it up. Leslie answered on the third ring.
“Hi, Mrs. Stilton,” I said and then remembered. “I mean, Leslie. It’s Georgie Tanner. Cecelia said you wanted me to stop by?”
“Oh, hello! Would you have any time to do it today? Can we meet for lunch?”
“Sure, we can meet for lunch. Noon sound good? What’s going on?”
“I just had some more stuff moved around.” She hesitated. “Some very unexpected stuff.”
My eyebrows went up. “Okay.” I waited, but she didn’t say anything more. “I guess I’ll see you then.”
I hung up the phone and started to tell Cecelia about the call.
Eliza Sue interrupted. “Excuse me. Can I get some more coffee?”
I nodded and got up to get the carafe. Then it was time to set the table. By the time everything was done, the rest of the guests were up and at the table. I’d have to talk to Cecelia later.
Breakfast ran late with everyone surprisingly relaxing at the table. Mr. Peterson said he had to go down to the station for a second interview, as did the St. Claires. There was more than a little bitterness in Mr. St. Claire’s declaration. Mrs. St. Claire hushed him, saying it was his fault because he’d called the interview short yesterday.
Eliza Sue said she was going to pack up her belongings, with Sarah agreeing that she’d planned the same.
Satisfied everyone was going to be okay, I finished clearing the table. When I headed into the kitchen with my arms loaded with plates, I found Cecelia sitting at the table. Her eyes were closed, wincing, and she rubbed her temple.
“You okay?” I asked, setting the plates by the sink.
“Headache. One of my awful ones. I kind of wondered if it would happen when I woke up this morning. I had that funny feeling.”
“Oh, no! Do you need your medicine?”
“I just took it. I’ll be better in a little bit.” She squinted at me. “Do me a favor, love, and run to the store for me? There’s a few things I need right away. The list is by the coffee maker.”
“Of course! I’ll do it before I go see Leslie,” I said. I hurried down the hall to the linen closet and snagged a washcloth. Quickly, I ran it under cold water and then handed it to her. “Take this for your head. Go rest. I’ve got this.”
She accepted it gratefully and headed for her room. I washed the pans and loaded the dishwasher, and generally tidied up. I could hear the rest of the house growing quiet as the guests went about their day.
When everything was finished, I grabbed the list and headed out. It was a quarter to eleven. I was going to need to hurry to make it in time.
Outside, the only car still in the driveway was Sarah’s. I headed for the van, hands in my pockets against the brisk air.
A blur of white streaking under the front tire caught my attention. I squatted down to look under the van. The little Pomeranian stared back at me. Well, like before, I assumed the pup was looking at me. Her fur still covered her eyes.
“Bear. Come here, Bear,” I cajoled, making a soft snap with my fingers. The dog woofed. “What are you barking at? Come here, sweetheart.”
The animal’s tail wagged ferociously like a windsock in a storm, but the dog didn’t budge. I tried a different tactic. “Peanut.” A few kissy noises. “Come on, Peanut.”
The dog scurried out from under my van, and into my waiting arms. Her tongue attacked my face.
“Sweetheart.” I laughed, trying to duck. “What are you doing out here?”
I looked around but didn’t see the neighbor anywhere. “Time to take you home.” I carried the plump pup through the grass and then down Mr. O’Neil’s driveway.
Nothing had changed from yesterday. The front porch still appeared old and decrepit. The piles of newspaper still lay in rotting piles. I shifted the dog in my arms and firmly knocked on the door.
“I’m coming. I’m coming,” Mr. O’Neil yelled. “Hold your horses.” He opened the door and stared at me through his glasses. He did not look impressed. “Oh. It’s you.”
I lifted my arms a bit to bring his attention to the squirming dog.
“Bear!” He gasped. “What in tarnation are you doing out here?” He reached for the dog, glancing at me again, this time with confusion.
“I found her running through Cecelia’s property. Did she escape?”
“She darned well did. Must have squeezed through when I went out to get the mail. Don’t you do that again, naughty girl,” he murmured into the fur on her neck. “She probably thought she was going on a walk. Her momma used to do that for her.”
His voice caught with pain. Silence drew out between us for a second or two. Then, he cleared his throat and scowled at me. “What do you want, a reward?”
Normally, his tone would have set me off. But I recognized it for what it was, a desperate defense because he’d been caught with the fracture to his heart wide open and unprotected.
“It’s fine. I’m glad she’s safe.” I started to go and then hesitated. “You know, Mr. O’Neil, I wouldn’t mind borrowing her from time to time. I like to walk, but not without a compani
on.”
“You’d like that, would ya?” He pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose and considered me. Finally, he nodded. “Well, we’ll see. I’ll let you know.” He paused for a second. “And call me Oscar.” With that, he shut the door.
I shook my head, wanting to chuckle. What a display of friendliness!
I glanced at the time on my phone and groaned. It was eleven. As I ran to the van, I put a call through to Leslie, to explain I had to run to the store, and that I might be a little late. After six rings with no answer, I hung up, hoping she’d understand.
I shoehorned my van into a parking spot at the back of the lot, and ran into the store with the grocery list. There were just a few things on the list, I should be in and out. The smell of pumpkin spice hit me from the coffee stand inside the store. I would have been tempted to get a drink myself, but several people stood in line already
After a quick search, I had Cecelia’s apples, lard, rhubarb, and brown sugar in the cart, and I was on my way to the checkout. Amy, one of my favorite checkers, was working, so I made my way into her line.
“Hey, lady!” she said by way of greeting and started to ring my things up. “I didn’t know you baked.”
I smiled as she weighed the apples. “This is for my aunt, but I might try my hand at it one of these days.”
“Gotta keep busy, right?” She bagged the fruit. “Speaking of busy, how’s the tour thing going?”
“Slowing down now that we’re in autumn. But people are still visiting my website. I just got another one booked.”
“I’m telling you, you need to add my grandpa’s barn to your tour. That thing has more history than half the places in town.” She read the amount due. “That’ll be seventeen fifty-two”
I handed her a twenty and she counted out the change.
“Two forty-eight,” she said as she handed it back. She shut the register with a clang.
I stared at the change in my hand. One coin stood out from the rest.
A wheat penny.
“Something wrong?” she asked. She leaned forward and recounted it. “Yeah, two forty-eight, like I said.”
I picked out the penny and held it up to her. “It’s strange to see one of these, is all. Someone was just talking to me about them.”
