The House on Hallowed Ground

by Nancy Cole Silverman

  “Romero? Like in Romeo, but with an ‘r’?” Denise winked. The detective took her hand and held it longer than I thought necessary. “And such a handsome detective, too. Are you here to talk with Misty about Lacey’s murder? Do you know who did it?”

  Romero cleared his throat, glanced at me then back at Denise, “Not yet, ma’am. But we will.”

  “Well, I can tell you this, it’s not Zoey’s ghost, that’s for certain. But then, I’m sure Misty’s already shared that with you.” Denise fluffed the back of her hair and smiled.

  Wilson slipped back into the study. From inside the room I could hear him slamming books to the floor.

  Denise jumped, and the detective looked in the direction of the study door, his hand automatically to the gun at his hip.

  “Not to worry,” I said. “I left a window open upstairs. Must be the wind. You know how it is with old houses. Besides, Denise, the detective doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

  Romero sat back down, and Denise took a seat next to him on the edge of the couch where Wilson had been sitting. She paused momentarily and looked on either side of her as though she might have thought or felt something odd, then shrugged. “So, Detective, if you don’t believe in ghosts, what do you believe in?”

  I answered. I wasn’t about to give in to Denise’s flirtation. “The detective’s found what looks like a doll’s squawk box on the trail behind the house. His forensics people don’t know what to make of it.” I pointed to the cylinder-shaped speaker on the coffee table. “He’s here to ask me what I think.”

  Denise poked at the box. “Well, then, I should think that settles it.”

  “Settles it how?” Romero asked.

  “The newspaper said Zoey and Lacey heard cat-like sounds coming from the backyard before Zoey went to bed. If you found this in the park, then it can only mean one thing.”

  “What’s that?” Romero looked amused, his lined face had a sudden glow about it. A glow I could only attribute to Denise’s close proximity, and the smell of vanilla hand cream she had just applied. An aphrodisiac for some.

  “Zoey had a stalker. Some crazed fan who knew where she lived and that her house backed up to the park. It wouldn’t take much to break in through the gate and...Wham! Bam!” Denise punched the air like she was hitting something. “Suddenly Lacey’s dead and our stalker’s out of the gate and disappeared into the park. Never to be heard from again.”

  Romero bit back a smile. “It is a possibility. Although, in a case like this, we often find the victim usually knows their killer.”

  “Ah-huh,” Denise took a quick breath. I could see she was mentally calculating the list of possible suspects in her mind. She looked at me, then back to Romero. “I assume Misty told you what happened the night of the séance?”

  The detective’s eyes slid from me and back to Denise.

  “You haven’t told him?” Denise asked.

  “I have,” I said, “but—”

  “Because if you were there, you would have seen it—or heard it anyway.” Denise was adamant. “Lacey showed up and confessed to Zoey she’d been having an affair with Chad and Chad went off the deep end. Tore the curtains off the wall, and then there was this big argument. Do you think it could be Chad? That maybe he wanted to silence Lacey?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t address your concerns,” Romero said. “At least not about the séance, but we’re still checking on Chad’s whereabouts the night of the murder.”

  Denise pointed at the newspaper on the coffee table. “Yes, well, it’s probably not Chad. The paper reported he was at some recording studio that night, so I suppose it couldn’t have been him.”

  “We don’t get our facts from the newspaper, Ms. Thorne.”

  “Denise, Detective. Please, call me Denise.”

  “Denise, then. And I appreciate your interest, but—”

  Denise put her hand on the detective’s. “Then where do you suppose Chad was? I mean, he’s Zoey’s fiancé. And a rock star. It’s not quite like he could hide.”

  Romero looked down at his hand and gently removed it from Denise’s.

  “That’s what we’re trying to verify now. The man who runs the studio’s been out of town. Chad assures us he can back his story up, but for the time being, we haven’t been able to pin down the exact time when Chad was at the studio or when he left.”

  “Was he alone?” Denise pressed forward, shoulder to shoulder with the detective.

  I pulled Denise away from the detective. “You’ll have to excuse Denise, Detective. She’s caught up with news of the murder. Perhaps, Denise, we should give Detective Romero a chance to ask if there’s anything more he needs from me and allow him to go on his way.”

  “Actually, Misty, that’s quite alright. Denise asks a good question, and I don’t mind answering. According to Chad, he was at the studio with Zac and Kelsey.”

  “And you’re looking at them as suspects as well?” I asked.

  “Right now, everyone’s a suspect.”

  “Everyone?” There it was again. The subtle hint the detective wasn’t just talking to me because he thought I might be helpful in identifying the squawk box, but because he had his doubts as to whether or not I might be involved.

  “I’m following up with everyone who was at the house the morning Lacey’s body was found. Nothing for you to be concerned about.”

  “Perhaps not, but all the same, I had assumed—incorrectly evidently—after showing me this squawk box, you were here to ask for my help. That you had reconciled yourself to my talents. However, since that appears not to be the case, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “Misty!” Denise snapped her head and looked at me like she couldn’t believe what I had just said. “You’re being rude.”

  “Perhaps,” I said. “But while I don’t mind answering a few questions, being the subject of an investigation is an entirely different matter.” I lumbered to my feet, “And for that, Detective, I’m afraid you’ll have to go. You too, Denise. I’ve work to do. My own investigation if you don’t mind. And I don’t need either of you around to do it. Now go. Both of you.”

  I walked both Romero and Denise to the door, and once they were both out, gave it a good shove.

  Chapter 17

  Crystal called the following morning. She was hysterical. Somebody had put a doll in her closet at the mansion, and she was convinced that somebody was me. I couldn’t see why Crystal would be so upset about a doll. Zoey had lots of dolls around the house, and she kept most of them in the guest room where Crystal was staying. It wasn’t until she described the doll that I understood her angst. The doll’s head had been smashed and her dress bloodied.

  “What are you trying to do, frame me?” Crystal was convinced the doll had been used to murder Lacey and that I had somehow found it and mysteriously moved it into the guest room where she was staying.

  I hung up the phone and looked at Wilson. “Please tell me you didn’t tamper with any evidence you may have found when we were at Zoey’s.”

  “Would that be wrong?” Wilson grinned.

  “Ugh!” I raised my head to the heavens. Why me? “Let me remind you, Wilson, your time here is temporary. What you do. Who you help. Who you don’t help. It all weighs in on where you go from here. You do understand that?”

  “I don’t see anything wrong with returning things to their proper place. All I did was take the doll Alicia found by the pool the night Lacey was murdered and return it to the guest room with the other dolls. The police never would have found it, and you know how fastidious I am about things being out of place.”

  “Are you telling me Alicia Mae had the doll? And that it might have been used to murder Lacey?”

  “Well, I don’t know if it was used to murder Lacey or not. But I do know Alicia said she found it by the pool the night Lacey drowned and took it ba
ck with her to the playhouse.”

  “I thought you said she didn’t see anything.”

  “She didn’t. But when she heard Zoey and Lacey arguing—”

  “Rehearsing,” I said.

  “Alicia went from the guest bedroom where she had been staying to the playhouse. When the arguing stopped, she peeked out of the playhouse window, saw the doll by the pool and went and got it. The police never would have found it there, because the playhouse doesn’t exist. At least not in their world. Alicia was very upset the doll had been hurt and wanted me to fix it. I told her I couldn’t fix it, not right away, but that we needed to return the doll to the nursery. Which, in Alicia’s mind, is the closet in the guest room where Crystal had moved all of Zoey’s dolls.”

  “You placed the doll there, in the closet, right after the police searched the house the second time?”

  “I did. I suppose that should count as a good deed, right? I mean if I’m racking up points to earn my wings so to speak, that’s got to count for something.”

  I exhaled. “Get the car keys. I need to see Crystal.”

  Detective Romero’s car was parked in the drive when Wilson and I pulled up in front of Zoey’s house. I ambled up the steps, not relishing the idea I was about to run into the detective again, and stopped halfway up to catch my breath. While Wilson disappeared into the house ahead of me, I spotted Romero beneath the atrium’s arched entry. He appeared to be waiting for me.

  “Crystal call you too?” He asked.

  “She did,” I said. With my hand against my chest, I felt my heart race. Whether it was the surprise of seeing the detective on the steps, or the steps were more strenuous than either my heart or I was prepared for, I wasn’t sure. I took a deep breath and exhaled. If the detective was going to treat me as a possible suspect, best I get on with it.

  Romero stepped down from beneath the portico and held out his hand. “Need some help?”

  “I suppose we could all use some.” I took his hand reluctantly.

  If offering me help up the steps was in some way an apology, I wasn’t ready to forgive the detective for yesterday’s accusation that I might possibly have been involved with Lacey’s murder. But the help up the steps I could use. Together, we climbed the remaining steps and met Crystal on the front patio. The door to the house was wide open behind her.

  “Detective.” Crystal greeted Romero formally, and with a chill I felt she had reserved for me, said, “Misty.”

  “Crystal.” I mimicked the short, terse tone in which she had used my name and smiled curtly.

  “Humph.” Crystal walked back into the house. “I’m glad you’re here, Detective. I’ve something to show you, and I suspect Misty knows damn well what it is and why it’s in my closet.”

  “Well, then, suppose you show me what it is.” Romero stepped ahead of me.

  Crystal shut the door behind us and led us down the hallway to the guest bedroom where she was staying. The room was furnished with a king-size bed, a marble-topped nightstand on either side, an antique armoire, and bookcases with lots of dolls. In the corner, beneath a white plantation shuttered window, was a luggage rack with an open suitcase on top. From the looks of things, Crystal was still unpacking.

  “It’s in there.” Crystal motioned with her head to a large walk-in closet where a life-size baby doll sat slumped on top of a vintage storage trunk. Its glass eyes stared back at us blankly, with its little mouth open in a perpetual “o” waiting for its next bottle. The doll looked like she had been trashed, its face scratched and dirty. The back of her head bashed in. Her pink ruffled dress, bloodstained and torn, revealed an open hole in the back of the doll’s plastic chest where something—perhaps the doll’s cry box—had been removed. “Somebody put it there.”

  “Do you know who?” Romero walked into the closet and looked around.

  “Why don’t you ask her?” Crystal jerked her head in my direction. “She’d love to frame me for Lacey’s murder. All because I don’t believe in her little charade about haunted houses and ghosts.”

  Romero put his hand up. “Ladies, please, let’s do this one step at a time, okay? Misty, why don’t you go take a seat on the bed while I talk to Crystal.”

  I backed out of the closet and sat on the edge of the bed where I could still see and hear Crystal and Romero.

  “Just when did you first discover the doll in your closet?” Romero asked.

  “This morning. Zoey left early for the studio. I told her I wanted to stay here and unpack some of my things. That’s when I noticed it, and I can tell you, Detective, that doll wasn’t here the night I moved in.”

  “Which was?” Romero asked.

  “The night Zoey and Chad broke up.” Crystal looked over her shoulder at me. “The night Misty did her séance. Zoey called and asked me to come over. She didn’t want to stay alone.”

  “And everything else in the room is exactly as it was yesterday?”

  “You mean after Misty came back to talk to Chad?” Crystal glared at me. “And you showed up with a search warrant?”

  Clearly, Crystal was bothered by the fact I had come back to the house after the séance. The fact I hadn’t heeded her warning to back off and leave Zoey alone had unsettled her. I felt the girl was prepared to fight me like an alley cat.

  “I don’t remember,” Crystal said. “I’ve had a lot on my mind. I assume if the doll was here, looking like she does now, you and your team would have seen it when you searched the house.”

  Romero swung the closet door open and shut, checking for its mobility, then returned it to its open position. “This door open all the time?”

  “Since I’ve been here,” Crystal said.

  “Let me get this straight. You moved in the night Zoey and Chad broke up.”

  “Like I said, right after Misty did that séance where Lacey’s ghost supposedly showed up.” Crystal made air quotes around “supposedly” and leered at me.

  “Okay,” Romero said. “Zoey kicks Chad out and calls you to come over and stay the night.”

  “She didn’t want to be alone,” Crystal said

  Romero cleared his throat, “Got that. And then the next day, Chad comes back to pack up his things, and you were where?”

  “At the studio with Zoey.”

  “How did you know we searched the house again?”

  “Chad called me. He wanted me to tell Zoey. He thought she should know right away.”

  “You and Chad close?”

  “Not at all. Why?”

  “Just asking,” Romero said.

  “Chad would have called Zoey himself, but he didn’t think she’d take his call.”

  “Chad ever talk to you about Lacey? Ever mentioned anything about the affair?”

  “I told you, Chad and I weren’t close, and I don’t like the questions you’re asking. I called you here because somebody put a bloody doll in my closet. And not that I should do your work for you, but I suspect it has something to do with Lacey’s murder.”

  Romero walked out of the closet then back in and exhaled. “You’re sure you’ve never seen this doll before?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose it’s one of Zoey’s. She has lots of dolls. But I can tell you, I didn’t see that doll in this closet the night I moved in. And yesterday, we spent all day at the studio, so I didn’t have time to finish unpacking.” Crystal went to the suitcase sitting beneath the window. “It wasn’t until this morning when I wanted to hang up a few things, that I went into the closet and saw the doll then called you.”

  Romero took out his cell phone and snapped a picture of the doll on top of the trunk. “I’m going to need you ladies to leave the room. I’m calling for a couple of crime scene techs to pick up the doll and dust for prints. In the meantime—”

  “In the meantime, I assume I’m free to go?” Crystal locked her arms across her ch
est. “I have a busy day.”

  “Unless there’s something else you want to tell me.”

  “Only that I think the person you should be talking to is sitting right there on the bed.”

  I was about to object when the doorbell rang followed by a quick knock and the sound of the front door opening.

  “You expecting anybody?” Romero asked. “Maid maybe?”

  Crystal looked at me then back at the detective and shook her head. “No. Not today.”

  “Stay here.” Romero drew his gun from beneath his sports coat and tip-toed down the hall toward the front door.

  Chapter 18

  “Don’t shoot!” Kelsey spotted Romero as soon as she entered the house and held her hands up. From behind Romero’s back, I could see the color drain from her face as she struggled to catch her breath. “Please, please...don’t...don’t shoot.”

  “What are you doing here?” Romero holstered his gun.

  “I forgot my jacket.” With her hands still above her head, Kelsey pointed a finger at the big picture window facing out onto the patio where a jacket lay on the chaise lounge. “It’s out there.”

  “You in the habit of coming by and letting yourself in?” Romero grabbed Kelsey’s hands above her head, patted her down, then released her and stepped back.

  “I have a key if that’s what you mean.” Kelsey’s voice shook.

  “You didn’t notice my car out front?”

  “You mean the sedan in the drive?” Kelsey pointed her thumb toward the door. “It doesn’t exactly look like a car a cop would drive. Believe me if it did, I wouldn’t have come in.”

  “Let this be a lesson to you. Detectives don’t always drive around in identifiable, unmarked police cars. Sometimes they just look like any other car.”

  “Yeah, which is why I thought maybe it belonged to Zoey’s housekeeper. I rang the bell and knocked, and when nobody answered, I figured the maid must be out back or something. Why, you going to arrest me?”