Merriment, Mayhem, and Meows

by Patricia Fry

“Did you hear anything?” Iris asked.

  “I don’t know. Yeah, I heard noises, but I thought maybe it was the wind or just the sounds an old house makes.” She spoke more softly. “When I realized maybe it wasn’t the wind and when I heard thumping and knocking instead of creaking, I got kind of scared. Yeah, I heard a few noises.” Margaret grinned. “I finally just covered my ears with my pillow and waited for the sun to come up.”

  “I slept like a baby,” Iris said. She faced the others. “Sure do appreciate you staying with me.” She led the way to the front door, then turned. “I’ve decided not to rent out that room until we know what’s going on.” She grimaced. “Although we’re booked up next weekend.” She cringed. “How do you think I should handle it?”

  “What do you mean?” Savannah asked.

  “Well, should I tell guests there’s something odd going on in that room at night and give them the option of staying in there, provide earplugs and insist guests wear them, or just book it and hope for the best?”

  “Reserve it for someone who likes spooky things that go bump in the night,” Margaret suggested.

  Iris’s eyes lit up. “What a great idea. Yes, I’ll lead guests to believe room number five is haunted and reserve it for whoever is interested in that sort of thing. Thanks, Maggie.”

  Savannah shook her head at her friend’s sudden exuberance over what just hours before had caused a sense of horror. “By the way, Iris, how are you coming with hiring regular employees?”

  “I found a couple of housekeepers who were displaced when the old hotel in town burned a few months ago. They were thrilled to find similar work locally and they come with good recommendations.”

  “No chef yet?” Margaret asked.

  “I don’t have the heart to hire a chef, Maggie,” Iris said, laughing. “Max seems to be enjoying his new weekend cooking gig.”

  Margaret smiled. “Yes, he is.”

  “I’m not going to want to let him go,” Iris said. “He’s a fabulous chef.”

  “So Edie and Dora won’t be joining us next weekend?” Savannah asked.

  “Dora may do some baking. She’s almost as good of a baker as Edie, but her specialties are cobblers, cakes, and cookies. Edie’s the pie expert. Dora does enjoy serving, though, and she’s pretty good at it, don’t you think so?”

  “Yeah. Does she have server on her resume, Iris, or did you teach her that? You worked for an awfully long time at the diner,” Margaret said.

  Iris nodded. “Twenty-five years. I also worked part time at the kids’ grammar school in the cafeteria for several years. Before that, I just took on odd jobs—cab driver, short-order cook, cleaning woman for businesses…” She faced Savannah. “Remember when I was cleaning the veterinary clinic? Oh yes, and I was a hostess at a men’s club for a while.”

  “Hostess at a men’s club?” Savannah repeated, wide-eyed. “Wow, you have quite a checkered past, don’t you?”

  Margaret snickered. “Didn’t she ever reveal all that to you before?”

  “Does it make a difference?” Iris challenged.

  Savannah stared at her for a moment. “Yeah, maybe in a good way,” she said hugging her. She turned to leave. “Hey, thanks for the…”

  “Crazy fright night?” Margaret suggested.

  ****

  “So, have you booked the spooky room?” Margaret asked when she arrived to help serve dinner at the bed-and-breakfast the following Friday night.

  “Actually, yes,” Iris said.

  Margaret grabbed an apron from the closet in the service porch and slipped it on. “Ohhh, what are the people like?”

  “Well,” Iris hesitated, “they’re a kind of a hippy-type middle-aged couple who are writing a book about interesting places to stay in California. They did one on RV travel to out-of-the-way spots a couple of years ago and now they’re gathering material for this new book.” More excitedly, Iris said, “They’re particularly interested in haunted inns. Can you believe it? They’re ghost hunters.”

  “Cool,” Margaret said, sarcastically. “Crazies from all over the world will come here.”

  “Iris, you can ring the dinner bell now,” Max suggested. “It’s six o’clock and food’s ready.”

  Just then Brianna came into the kitchen. “Everyone’s seated,” she announced. “What is it tonight, Max?”

  He handed her a large platter. “Salmon and pork chops.” When Brianna turned toward the dining room with the food, Max placed a bowl of broccoli and a plate of asparagus in Savannah’s hands. “Hot!” he said, handing Margaret two hot pads with which to carry the baking dish filled with scalloped potatoes.” When Brianna returned, he gave her a basket of rolls and a small plate of butter pats. In the meantime, he placed serving dishes on the kitchen table for the volunteer staff.

  Once most of the chairs around the kitchen table were occupied and everyone’s plates were filled, Brianna asked, “I’m curious, what did you learn when you gals bunked together upstairs the other night?” She winced. “I sure wanted to stay here and experience whatever is going on up there. But, dang, I had to do rounds that night.” She leaned toward Iris. “Let me know if you have another slumber party, will you?” When Iris simply grinned and nodded, Brianna asked again, “So what did you find out?”

  “I found out that I can’t trust my niece and my friend to protect me if we’re attacked,” Margaret groused.

  “Attacked?” Dora repeated. “You were attacked in your room?”

  Iris shook her head. “No. We just heard some noises—evidently what our previous guests had heard—and Savannah and I went in the closet to investigate.”

  “Leaving me to fend for myself in the dark,” Margaret complained.

  “So what was it?” Brianna asked.

  The three women looked at one another and shrugged.

  “We don’t know,” Savannah said. She looked at Francine. “You said you occasionally hear things from the hall outside that room. What do you think it is?”

  “I can’t identify it,” Francine said quietly. “Maybe just the settling of an old house.”

  “What about the glow?” Iris asked. “Francine, have you seen that?”

  “No.”

  “Glow?” Brianna said. “What kind of glow?”

  Iris and Savannah looked at each other, then Iris said, “It appears to be shining down from above.”

  “You mean from the heavens?” Dora asked.

  Savannah shook her head. “Probably not. But it is overhead and it is a glow—a rather unidentifiable glow of color.”

  “Are you spending the night again?” Michael asked Savannah after the dinner dishes had been washed and put away and only a few of the volunteer staff remained in the kitchen.

  She grinned at him. “What do you think? Of course not. Anyway, the rooms are all booked. But I’ll be here first thing in the morning to find out what happened overnight.” She glanced at the others impishly. “I mean, to have breakfast with you all.”

  ****

  “Well, what was it?” Margaret asked eagerly the following morning when she arrived with Savannah.

  “Yeah, what happened last night?” Savannah asked, sitting down with Lily on her lap.

  Iris, who was at the sink cutting melon and strawberries for a fruit bowl, turned. “Oh, hi.” She shook her head. “We don’t know yet. Haven’t seen anyone this morning.” She craned to peer out the kitchen window. “I think the couple who stayed in room five is out in the garden. They’ll be here for breakfast soon.” She looked at the clock. “Oh my, it’s nearly eight. Is the egg casserole about ready, Max?”

  “Should be,” he said, opening the oven. He removed two large baking dishes and placed them on the counter.

  “Looks delicious,” Iris said. “I’d like to get some of your recipes for our new chef.”

  “You’ve found someone?” he asked, sounding almost disappointed.

  Iris laughed. “No. Not yet.” She bumped him affectionately wi
th her shoulder. “I hope to be able to rely on you for another week.”

  He smiled and relaxed.

  Margaret chuckled. “He may not want to leave you.”

  “Okay with me,” Iris said. “Guests love the food here. It’s like a five-star gourmet bed-and-breakfast inn.

  Max grinned and announced, “Ready to serve.”

  “Okay, here they come,” Iris said, when she noticed through the window that the couple from room five was walking toward the French doors.

  Savannah opened the door and peered into the dining room. “The others are seated,” she said. “Let’s go. Auntie, would you watch Lily while I help serve?”

  “But I want to hear about the ghosts,” she whined.

  Iris moved toward the dining room with one of the baking dishes. “Maggie, we’ll tell you if they have any stories. Grab that bowl of fruit, will you, Savannah?”

  A few minutes later, Margaret jumped when the swinging door opened, then frowned, “Oh hi, Francine…Dora.”

  “Good morning,” Dora said, giving Margaret a one-armed hug.

  Francine nodded.

  Dora leaned over to engage Lily. “Hello, sweetie. How are you this morning?”

  “Baby Monica,” Lily said, holding her doll out for Dora to see.

  “Baby Monica?” she asked, looking at Margaret.

  “There’s an infant at her day care named Monica,” Margaret explained. “Now all of her dollies are Baby Monica.”

  “How cute,” Francine said.

  Dora patted Lily’s leg. “A girl with her own ideas.”

  “How are the kitties this morning?” Margaret asked, still keeping an eye on the door.

  Francine smiled. “Wonderful.” She tilted her head. “It’s interesting to watch the interaction between the cats now that Ireland, Bonnie, and Bootsie have joined the cuddle cats. Little Bonnie is shy and not too sociable, but the two males play a little rough sometimes and kind of scare the cuddle cats. Bootsie, especially, likes to torment Oscar.”

  “Awww. Poor cuddle cats. They shouldn’t have to put up with that,” Dora said. “Can you give Bootsie a time out?”

  Francine chuckled. “Sometimes Rags does.”

  “Rags?” Margaret repeated.

  “Yes, if he sees Bootsie picking on any of the other cats, he puts a stop to it. One raised paw from Rags and Bootsie settles right down.”

  Just then, the kitchen door opened again and Savannah and Iris stepped in. Margaret watched as they poured juice and coffee for the volunteers. Once everyone else was seated, Savannah took Lily from Margaret. “Want to eat?” She strapped the toddler into the booster chair she’d brought, then dished some fruit onto a plate and placed it in front of her. “We’ll have some egg when it cools down,” she murmured.

  “Where are Craig and Michael?” Max asked. “Am I the only male here this morning?”

  “I guess you are. Michael’s working.” Savannah turned to Iris. “Where’s Craig?”

  “On a case, where else? Darned workaholic,” Iris added.

  “I wouldn’t talk,” Savannah said, chuckling.

  Iris narrowed her eyes. “Huh?”

  “I’d say you’re pretty close to being one, too, wouldn’t you, Auntie?”

  Margaret nodded. She then bounced a little in her chair. “So?” she said impatiently. When the others looked at her, she insisted, “What happened last night? Did you find out anything?”

  “Evidently nothing,” Iris said, placing an egg casserole on the table. She reached for Francine’s plate and spooned a dollop on it. “The couple in room five didn’t hear or see anything.”

  “Pshaw,” Margaret huffed handing Iris her plate. “They’re probably heavy sleepers and didn’t wake up when the ghost arrived.”

  “So you’re convinced it’s a ghost, Auntie?” Savannah asked. “I didn’t think you believed in that woo-woo stuff.”

  “Well, I…um…” Margaret stammered. “I don’t.” She spoke more loudly and with emphasis when she said, “But Vannie, you’ve gotta agree there was something going on in that room the other night—something we could hear but couldn’t see.”

  After serving the casserole to those sitting around the kitchen table, Iris took a seat across from Margaret. “Evidently, our guests didn’t hear anything.”

  “Maybe it was a passing spirit,” Dora suggested quietly. When everyone seemed to be waiting for more, she said, “You know, it doesn’t belong here, it was just passing through and stopped in for a visit.”

  Margaret stared at her for a minute before saying, “Now that makes even less sense to me.”

  “What does make sense to you, Maggie?” Max asked, grinning.

  “Um…well…I guess none of it, actually.” She sat straighter. “But I was a witness to something and I want to know what it was.”

  “Even if it’s otherworldly?” Iris asked, smirking playfully.

  Margaret scooped up some of the egg casserole on her fork. “The jury's out on that one.” After taking a bite and swallowing, she added, “Proof. That’s what I’m after. Proof one way or another.”

  “Maybe tonight,” Savannah suggested. “Your guests are staying again tonight, aren’t they?”

  Iris nodded.

  “Do you think you’ll be in their book, anyway?” Margaret asked. “I mean, aren’t they writing about haunted places? What if they find out there are no ghosts here, then they won’t include you in their book.”

  “I thought about that,” Iris said. “Today, I hope to spend some time with the writers, Evan and Merilee Moore, and fill them in on the history of the place.” She became more animated. “I’ll invite them to dance where the Kaisers danced after their son’s wedding to Geraldine.” She leaned forward and spoke more quietly. “I might even tell them that some of the early movie stars danced in that spot.”

  “You’ll lie?” Margaret asked.

  “No,” Iris defended. “We know who was here and when, according to early newspaper accounts.” She glanced around at the others. “They used to report that sort of stuff on the social pages of newspapers. Can’t we assume some of their famous guests also danced in that spot?” She continued, “I’ll have the Moores sit in the chair the governor sat in when he visited.”

  “And take them for a walk in your former cemetery?” Margaret asked, grinning.

  “Why not?” Iris said, straight-faced. “It’s part of the history, isn’t it?”

  “The meals alone should put this place on the map,” Dora said. “Max, this casserole is lovely. What’s your secret?”

  “Well, nothing special, I guess. Fresh eggs, flavorful sausage, green onion, red bell pepper, and cheddar. I can’t exactly tell you what seasonings I use because it’s never the same—it’s whatever I feel like using or have available at the time. But usually I use fresh thyme, salt and pepper, of course, and a little celery salt. Today, I omitted the celery salt and sprinkled in some chopped cilantro because I used chorizo in place of the farmer-style sausage.”

  “Well, it’s delicious. I understand you actually are a chef. I’ve known you for all these years and didn’t know that about you. How is that?”

  Max glanced around at the others before saying, “It was a long time ago. I worked in fine restaurants in Chicago for many years.”

  “What made you change careers?” Francine asked in her quiet manner.

  “Cats.” When he noticed Francine waiting to hear more, he explained, “It all started with the cats hanging around behind one of the restaurants where I worked. I had a cat at the time, but when I saw the plight of street cats, I was sort of drawn to get involved.”

  “Well, we’re sure glad you’re keeping your culinary skills sharp,” Iris said.

  “Yes, we are,” Savannah agreed.

  Dora stood up. “I’d better go see if the guests need anything.” But before she reached the door, they heard an ear-shattering crash followed by a screech. Dora jumped away from the
door, her hands against her chest.

  “What the…” Margaret said, staring at the others, agape.

  Savannah immediately wrapped her arms around Lily, who looked as though she was about to cry. “What was that?” she whispered to Iris.

  “Hell if I know,” Iris said, standing and moving quickly toward the door. When she saw Max try to head her off, she said, “It’s okay, I’ll go.” She motioned for Dora to stand back out of the way as she cautiously pushed the swinging door open and entered the dining room. “Oh, my God. What happened here?”

  As Iris assessed the situation, she was joined by Max and Savannah. Margaret peered into the room from the doorway, with Lily in her arms. Francine and Dora stood behind her.

  “Uh-oh,” Lily said.

  Margaret kissed Lily’s cheek and gazed out over the group that stood staring down at the rubble. “Uh-oh is right.”

  “That vase was an antique,” Iris said solemnly. “A beautiful antique.” She looked at her guests. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” an overweight woman in her seventies said. “It just sort of flew off the shelf there and crash-landed.”

  “Was there an earthquake?” a rather timid-seeming man asked.

  “No,” another guest insisted. “We would have felt it if it was an earthquake. That vase was there one minute and on the floor the next.”

  “Like it was tossed around by a poltergeist,” Merilee Moore said quietly.

  “I didn’t sense a presence,” her husband assured her.

  “Neither did I, but what other answer could there be?” she insisted.

  Margaret walked into the room with the baby, leaving the other two women at the doorway. “Cats,” she said.

  “I didn’t see a cat,” one guest insisted. “Did anyone see a cat?”

  Once everyone had agreed that a cat hadn’t been in the room, Savannah asked, “Are you sure? Cats can be pretty quick and quiet. It could be that one was sitting behind the vase without you noticing her and inadvertently pushed it off onto the floor.”

  “Yeah, and it ran out of the room without us seeing it,” another woman said.

  Her traveling companion chuckled. “Yeah, you’d like this to have a logical explanation, wouldn’t you?”