Gingerdead Man

by Maya Corrigan

  Muffin sniffed around him. He crouched to pet her. “You’re a little early, Bram.” Dorothy turned from her son to the others in the room. “My car battery died, so I walked here from the bookshop this evening. Bram insisted on picking me up and driving me home.”

  “One of us would have driven you home,” Val said, though she was glad not to have to do that. With the poisonings it was better for them to sit tight with Bethany.

  Granddad said, “There’s another half hour to go in the movie. Do you want to save the rest of it for another day, Dorothy?”

  She shook her head. “If you don’t mind waiting, Bram, you might get a piece of chocolate tart when the movie’s over.”

  He got up from his crouch as Muffin abandoned him for Bethany. “Chocolate tart is worth waiting for.”

  Bethany eyed the dog gazing up at her. “Muffin is giving me her take-me-for-a-walk look. It’s the last thing she does before going to sleep for the night. I have to take her.”

  “I’ll take Muffin,” Bram said. “If she’ll have me.” Once Bethany handed Bram the leash, Muffin accepted him as the anointed dog walker. Granddad locked the door behind them, returned to his lounger, and clicked the remote to resume the video.

  Half an hour later, when the movie ended, Bram and Muffin still hadn’t returned from the walk. When Val turned on the lamp in the sitting room, she saw her own anxiety mirrored in Dorothy’s face and in Bethany’s. The poisonings had not only killed two people, they’d destroyed the peace and security of everyone in town. A week ago no one would have thought twice about a man and a dog going for a long walk at night in Bayport.

  Dorothy stood up. “I’ll call him. My phone’s in the kitchen.” She returned in less than a minute, looking relaxed. “Bram said Muffin took him for a long walk. They’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

  Granddad levered himself out of the lounger. “I’ll slice the chocolate tart.”

  Val followed him into the kitchen, made a pot of tea, and brought it to the dining room table. They sat around it and talked about the movie. Despite a few humorous characters, Bethany found the film rather dark and scary.

  “What struck me most,” Val said, “was why so many train passengers denied seeing the lady who vanished. Some of them lied because they were evil, but most did it because they were afraid the train would be delayed or they’d be involved in a controversy. They wanted to mind their own business. I wonder how many festival visitors ignored the police request for information about the Ghost of Christmas Presents for similar reasons.”

  Granddad loaded his fork with a chunk of tart. “Talking to the police would take up their precious time. They might even have to go to court as witnesses.”

  Bethany poured tea in her cup. “The ghost I saw didn’t limp or I would have contacted the police.”

  Dorothy looked across the table at her. “Where and when did you see that ghost?”

  “When I left the festival Saturday evening, I walked home along Pine Street. I passed the church and got as far as the next cross street, Dixon Lane. The ghost was down that street.”

  Suddenly alert, Val put down her fork. “What time was that on Saturday evening?”

  Bethany took a moment to answer. “Six thirty or a quarter to seven.”

  Val hadn’t checked her watch when the ghost crashed the volunteers’ tea party, but it had been around that time or shortly before. And witnesses had reported seeing a black-robed figure skirting the churchyard and walking toward Pine Street. “What did the ghost look like, Bethany?”

  “Like a black blob at first. When I saw it, I was afraid someone had fallen and needed help. I turned onto Dixon Lane and as I got closer to the blob, I could tell it was a person bending down near a big bush along the sidewalk. I said, ‘Are you okay?’ After straightening up, the person looked at me with a ghost mask on. I jumped back. It was a smiling ghost mask, not scary, but creepy, like clowns are with their smiling faces.”

  “What was the ghost wearing?” Dorothy said.

  “A long black robe with the hood up, like the Grim Reaper. I figured the ghost had worn the costume for the cemetery tour and missed the entrance, so I pointed it out. The ghost headed toward the church, and I continued home.”

  Val conjured a vision of the ghost who delivered the gingerbread cookies. “Was the ghost you saw carrying anything?”

  Bethany nodded. “One of the big Dickens festival shopping bags.”

  “Like the ghost who crashed the tea party. After delivering the gingerbread cookie gifts and leaving the bookshop, that ghost might have taken the gift bag off his head and—”

  “You mean off her head,” Bethany corrected. “The ghost I saw was a woman. She said ‘Happy Holidays’ in a cheerful voice when I asked if she was okay. The words were a bit muffled, but it was definitely a woman’s voice.”

  Val hadn’t been able to tell if the ghost who crashed the tea party had been male or female. “I guess I used he and him to refer to the ghost because all the ghosts in A Christmas Carol are males.”

  Granddad rested his fork on a plate that had only crumbs left on it. “Dickens’s ghosts have been women in some of the movie versions.”

  Bethany said, “We already know that the ghost I saw was a woman. The only question is whether it’s the same ghost that gave out gingerbread cookies.”

  Val shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a question, Bethany. It’s an answer.”

  “To what?”

  “Why the murderer tried to poison you.”

  Chapter 18

  For the first time since Bethany had been poisoned, Val had an inkling of the reason. “Assuming the person you ran into Saturday night had just delivered a poisoned gingerbread cookie, you might be able to identify him—I mean, her.”

  Bethany threw up her hands. “How am I supposed to identify someone whose face I couldn’t see?”

  “You heard a voice,” Granddad said.

  “I heard two words. The voice didn’t sound familiar.”

  That made sense to Val. “People can disguise their voices. Listen to this.” She took a deep breath, pitched her voice higher than usual, and injected a note of forced joviality. “Happy Holidays!”

  Granddad covered his ears. “I’m glad you don’t talk like that all the time.”

  “Your voice isn’t even close to how the ghost sounded, Val. But you’re right, anyone could speak in a different voice.” The color drained from Bethany’s face. “If the ghost bothered to change her voice, it’s because she thought I might recognize it. That means I must know her.”

  Val cast around for another explanation and found one. “Not necessarily, Bethany. The ghost went to a lot of trouble to be unrecognizable with a totally covered body and face. So she wouldn’t want to use her own voice. It’s another way she could be identified if she’s ever a suspect in the murder.”

  Granddad nodded. “It’s called a voice lineup. Witnesses listen to several people speak and pick out any voice they’ve heard before.” Granddad turned to Dorothy. “You’ve been awfully quiet. Any thoughts about the ghost?”

  “Val, did the ghost say anything in the CAT Corner?” When Val shook her head, Dorothy continued. “I don’t understand the reason for saying ‘Happy Holidays’ when the ghost could have just stayed silent.”

  Val replayed in her mind the scene when the ghost arrived at the tea. “The ghost who delivered the cookies wasn’t frightening. A head covered with a gift bag is whimsical, part of the costume’s visual pun. With the gift bag off and the black hood up, the ghost looks threatening, even with a smiling mask. The last thing someone who’s just committed a murder wants is to encounter someone who’ll scream, attract attention, and bring people rushing to her aid.”

  Bethany nodded. “I almost did that.”

  And it would have been effective. Val had heard Bethany’s piercing shriek when they visited the haunted corn maze last year. “I’ll bet you were less scared after a chirpy woman wished you ‘Happy Holidays.’ ”r />
  “Yes, and I was surprised. Until then I thought the ghost was a man.”

  “Why?”

  Bethany shrugged.

  The doorbell rang. Val went to the hall and looked though the sidelight before opening the door to Muffin and Bram. The dog shot by her, heading straight for Bethany. As Bram took off his jacket and hung it over the banister, Val summarized the conversation they’d had at the table about the ghost Bethany had seen.

  “I missed a lot,” he said.

  “You missed even more earlier in the evening—multiple murder scenarios. Your mother can tell you about them. Your chocolate tart is on the table waiting for you.”

  Bram took the empty seat next to his mother and dug into the tart.

  Muffin’s pleading gaze at Bethany suggested she wouldn’t mind a piece of tart herself.

  Bethany looked down at the dog. “Don’t give me that look. You’re not allowed to eat in the dining room or to have chocolate with a buttery crust. Now, go to your bed.” She pointed to the small room between the kitchen and dining room, the butler’s pantry, where a cushion on the floor awaited the dog.

  Muffin trotted around the table and eyed Bram’s fork as it moved from plate to mouth.

  Bram said, “You heard what Bethany said, Muffin. Bed.”

  Muffin must have heard a firmness in his tone that was missing from Bethany’s. The dog gave up and padded to the other room.

  Val took a bite of the tart, trying to remember what she was about to say when the doorbell rang. Something about the ghost. “You said you didn’t notice the ghost limping, Bethany, but when did you see her walking?”

  “After I pointed out the churchyard, I went the other way, took a few steps, and then turned around. The ghost was walking without a limp toward the churchyard.”

  Granddad said, “How many times did you check behind you to see if the ghost was following you?”

  “Only once. I know what you’re thinking. That the ghost could have reversed direction, followed me, and found out where I lived. Why was I such a threat that the ghost poisoned me?”

  Val rubbed her forehead. “I’m guessing here. When you came along, the ghost was bending down with the robe covering her. You couldn’t see what was going on, but she was afraid you could. It must have been something that suggested her identity.”

  Dorothy sipped her tea. “Maybe Bethany came up when the ghost was putting on the mask or adjusting it. The ghost would have hunched down to make her face less visible.”

  Bethany twirled a ringlet of her ginger hair around her finger. “The ghost wasn’t hunching but bending down, like you do to tie your shoes.”

  “Shoes!” Granddad snapped his fingers. “I know how the ghost made the limp disappear, and she’d have to bend down to do it. You can change your voice or the style and color of your hair, but not the way you walk. People who don’t want to be identified—like spies, for example—put a pebble in their shoe. Because it hurts to step on a pebble, they put less weight on that foot and end up limping.”

  Dorothy’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know about putting a pebble in a shoe? Did you work for the CIA, Don?” She paused. “I guess you wouldn’t tell me if you did.”

  Granddad chuckled. “I saw a movie about a spy who did that to fool the assassins who were after him.”

  His honesty delighted Val. Around Halloween he’d touted his ghost-hunting experience. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he claimed espionage experience now, but telling Dorothy the truth was a sign that he valued her friendship too much to lie to her. “A woman wouldn’t have to use a pebble to limp,” Val said. “She could wear shoes with different heel heights. To stop limping, she just had to take off one shoe and put on the mate to the other.”

  Bethany frowned. “I understand why someone would want to stop limping, but not the reason for doing it in the first place.”

  “It drew everyone’s attention and kept them from noticing much else about the ghost,” Val said.

  Bram piped up, “That’s true, but I think there’s more to it. Someone at the tea might have identified the ghost by her walk, and that’s why the ghost decided to limp.”

  “Wouldn’t the long robe have hidden how the ghost walked?” Bethany said.

  Bram shook his head. “Gait recognition technology analyzes the whole body in motion—hips, arms, shoulders, head—not just the legs. When people recognize someone by their walk, they’re processing all of those things too. But a limp causes most people to screen out those data points, though it can’t fool the technology.”

  Val stared at him across the table. “I’ve never heard you talk tech before, Bram.”

  He grinned. “If you like it, I have lots more where that came from.”

  “I’ve had enough for the moment.” She stood up. “I’m going to call Chief Yardley. He’ll want to interview Bethany.”

  She went into the study to call the chief. As soon as she told him about Bethany’s encounter with a robed figure, the chief said he’d come right over.

  When Val left the study, the others were in the hall. Dorothy and Bram were getting ready to leave.

  Dorothy buttoned her peacoat. “Dinner and dessert were wonderful. Thank you for inviting me and for the stimulating conversation at the table. I just hope I can sleep tonight. Bethany, please be watchful.”

  “Don’t walk Muffin after dark,” Bram said. “I’ll come over and do that until the police arrest the murderer.”

  Granddad nodded. “We don’t want Bethany walking the dog at all. I’ll take Muffin for daytime walks.”

  Bethany’s eyes glistened with tears. “Thank you both. But I can’t be under house arrest. I have a bunch of first graders and their parents who expect me to show up every day.”

  Val slipped past Granddad and reached into the closet for the cloak she’d worn to the festival. “Whenever you go out, you can wear this and put on a knitted cap. Wrapped in the cloak, with your hair hidden under the hat, and wearing sunglasses, no one will recognize you unless they know you well and see you up close.” Val rehung the cloak. “Are you okay with this, Bethany?”

  “My grandfather had an army blanket the same color and texture as that thing, but okay. I’ll do anything to disguise myself except put a stone in my shoe.”

  “I don’t think you should drive your car,” Granddad said. “The person who left the chocolates might have seen it parked in front of your house. We’ll park it around the corner when you’re here.”

  Bram and Dorothy left, and the chief arrived a minute later. As he had with Iska, he interviewed Bethany in the study.

  When they came out, the chief said, “Bethany’s safety is my main concern. I’ll announce that the poison victim who has recovered reported speaking to a black-robed and masked individual on Saturday evening, but didn’t see any identifying features or recognize the individual’s voice. I’ll give the time and location and ask anyone who saw such a figure in that vicinity to come forward.”

  Granddad’s worry lines smoothed out. “You’re telling the poisoner that Bethany has already spilled the beans to the police and there’s no reason to go after her again.”

  “Yes, but there’s no guarantee that the culprit will hear that announcement or believe it.” The chief turned from Granddad to Bethany. “What time do you leave for work?”

  “Around seven thirty.”

  “I’ll send an officer to drive you there tomorrow morning. You can arrange with him what time you want to be picked up in the afternoon.”

  Bethany looked askance. “I can’t arrive in a squad car. The whole school will be talking about the teacher dropped off by the police. Parents will be calling the principal and the superintendent.”

  “The officer will drive an unmarked vehicle and won’t be in uniform. You can say he’s your boyfriend or your cousin or whatever. I’ll send Officer Wade. Val and her grandfather know him. Keep a low profile and be vigilant until we have this murderer in custody.”

  “I’ll be careful,
” Bethany said. “Right now, I’m exhausted and going to bed.” She roused Muffin and carried the dog’s cushion upstairs with her, leaving Granddad and Val with the chief.

  Val hoped he would answer a few questions. She had just the incentive to induce him to stay. “We have some chocolate tart left over from dinner, Chief. Sit down and I’ll cut you a piece of it.”

  He didn’t resist.

  She brought him a slice and sat down on the sofa near the armchair where he sat. Then she waited until he’d taken two bites before asking her first question. “Did anyone else report seeing the figure in black with a ghost mask Saturday evening?”

  “No, but we were asking for someone in a long garment who was limping. We’ll put out a new description tomorrow. Get rid of the limp and add the mask.”

  Val had trouble making sense of the killer’s timing. “Bethany posed a threat from the moment she ran into the ghost on Saturday night. The poisoned chocolate she ate came from the same batch as Oliver’s. Those were at his doorstep by Monday morning. Why did it take until Tuesday for the poisoned chocolates to show up at her house?”

  Her question hung in the air while the chief munched another piece of tart.

  Granddad said, “Maybe the killer delivered the gift bags to both Oliver and Bethany by Monday morning and Bethany missed seeing hers until Tuesday?”

  “I doubt it.” Only one bite of tart remained on the chief’s plate. He loaded it on his fork. “None of Bethany’s neighbors observed the bag at her house on Monday, but two of them spotted it there during the day on Tuesday. Bethany didn’t notice it until she came home after school. And her dog barked around one in the morning on Tuesday. She says the dog rarely barks at night.”

  Val straightened up and moved to the edge of the sofa. “That must be when the killer left the chocolates. At home Muffin sleeps on the sofa in the living room, near the front door, and probably heard someone on the doorstep.”