Death in the Park (Firefly Junction Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by London Lovett

  I felt a little silly as I headed back through to the dining room. I’d left with the big announcement of an exciting find but I was returning empty handed. Raine was explaining to everyone just how she would conduct the séance as I walked back into the dining room.

  “Oh good, you’re back,” Raine waved for me to hurry back to the table. “Marylou is going to finish her story. Then if everyone’s ready, we’ll get started.” She stopped and her gaze dropped to my empty hands. “Where’s the letter?”

  I sat down with a head shake. “I guess I’ve had a longer day than I thought. I can’t remember where I put it.”

  “Aw, I was looking forward to reading it,” Emily said. “What kind of letter was it? Where did you find it?”

  “I found it in an old chest in a room upstairs. It was a love letter addressed to someone named Bonnie.” I winked at Marylou. “I guess we can assume it was the Bonnie in Marylou’s story. Please, if you wouldn’t mind, we’d all love to hear more about Cleveland and his young bride.”

  “Will it be Cleveland’s ghost we’re summoning tonight?” Nick asked, with just a hint of humor. It seemed Nick was of the same skeptical mind as me when it came to ghosts.

  “Yes,” Raine said just as quickly as Marylou said “no”. Raine shot her a questioning look. “It isn’t? I thought he died in a duel over the honor of his wife, Bonnie.”

  “There was a duel, but Cleveland was the victor.” Marylou was more than pleased to have everyone’s attention again. She slowly folded her napkin and lifted it off her lap. She placed it on the table next to her plate. “You see, Cleveland had many family ties to England. When a distant cousin, Edward Beckett, a roguish young man with a penchant for trouble, found himself knee deep in gambling debt, Cleveland’s distant uncle begged him to take Edward in. Back then, wealthy English folk still considered it a punishment to be sent to the wild and untamed continent of America. They thought a harsher, less pampered existence would set young Edward straight. Instead, he managed to get himself in just as much trouble and debt here. And when Cleveland discovered that his new wife had fallen head over heels in love with the black sheep of the family, he challenged him to a duel.”

  “So Cleveland shot and killed him in the duel?” Lana asked.

  “Well, the story is that Edward was hit in the shoulder. He didn’t die immediately. Bonnie had the servants carry him into the house where she nursed him day and night for a week. But eventually Edward died from his wound, right here under Cleveland’s roof. Bonnie was sent away to live with relatives, and Cleveland, no longer wanting to live in the house that brought him so much grief, sold it soon after.”

  “Unrequited love,” Ursula said with authority. “It keeps those spirits howling and moaning every time.”

  “So it’s Edward’s ghost who lingers in these halls. It’s Edward and his broken heart, a heart that still pines for his long lost love, Bonnie.” Raine put a dab of dramatic flair on each word.

  Nick’s chair scraped the floor. “Emily and I will clear the table. I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m dying to meet this Edward chap. He sounds like quite the character.”

  Raine clapped her hands in quick little beats. “Now that we know more about the Cider Ridge Inn ghost, I can’t wait to get started.”

  Chapter 27

  We’d discovered that once the lights in the kitchen and hallway were doused and the dining room door was shut, the room was swallowed by an eerie darkness. Raine decided the windows didn’t need to be covered, saving my bed sheets the humiliation of posing as drapes.

  Unfortunately, there was still enough light in the room for me to see Lana’s facial contortions during Raine’s dramatic plea to the spirit world as we held hands around the table. Of course, we were supposed to keep our eyes shut. After a few times of prying my eyes open just enough to see, I discovered that I was the only one cheating. I felt a little guilty about it. My punishment came when I had to force down a laugh that wanted badly to erupt after seeing Lana’s face. She was twisting her mouth around and around, obviously trying to keep her own laugh at bay. She used to make the same face at me in church with the sole purpose of making me laugh so that I got in trouble.

  I shut my eyes tightly again and tried to focus on the séance. Raine’s summoning was in full swing.

  “If you are there, please give us a sign. We are only here as friends. There is no sinister motive for this event. Just curious strangers wanting to get to know you,” Raine sounded nothing like herself. Her tone was deep, almost sultry, as she spoke into the dark, empty room. Most of her words echoed softly back to her off the vacant walls and ceiling. “Please share with us your plight. We are here to help you find your way to peace.” Raine fell silent. The only sounds in the house were the usual creaks, Nick’s sniffles from ongoing allergies and Newman snoring from his bed in the kitchen.

  “Quiet,” Raine commanded as Ursula cleared her throat. “Any sound might scare the spirit away. Please don’t be afraid. Talk to me. I’m here to listen.”

  Again, a thick, almost awkward silence fell over the room. It seem I wasn’t the only one getting restless. Marylou kept shifting on the chair next to me, and her grip on my hand had loosened significantly. I wondered if she’d fallen asleep.

  “Everyone stay perfectly silent.” Raine’s order flowed from somewhere deep in her throat. I couldn’t stop myself. I pried open one eye to a squint and glanced over at her. She was so deeply absorbed in the moment, I felt like a bad friend for not taking it more seriously.

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes again. Just as another uncomfortable silence fell over the room a loud crashing sound came from the other side of the house. We startled and lost our hand holds, our persistent medium included. Eyes popped open and we all looked at each other with surprise.

  “Holy macaroni and cheese,” Ursula muttered. “He’s here.”

  “Was it the ghost?” Emily asked Raine, who seemed just as confused and shocked as the rest of us.

  “Uh, yes, it could be,” Raine replied with little confidence. “Sometimes they exhibit a bit of aggressive behavior if they are feeling shy or intruded upon.”

  Another loud crash startled us. I recognized it almost instantly as the sound of breaking glass. It seemed someone was in the house. Nick and I stood from the table at the same time. I followed closely at his heels but took a cowardly position behind his broad back as we crept toward the sounds. They were coming from the kitchen.

  “What do we do if it’s a ghost?” I asked Nick.

  “Good question.” Another round of shattering glass made us both freeze in the narrow hallway between the sitting room and the kitchen. “I almost hope it is a ghost and not some intruder intent on breaking all your dinnerware.”

  Footsteps plodded down the hallway behind us. It seemed everyone had joined us. We all stayed tucked out of sight behind Nick as we crept toward the kitchen. As Nick pushed open the door, a raccoon jumped down from the kitchen table and raced out the unlatched screen door. There was broken glass and sandwich crumbs all over the floor and table. My brave, gallant dogs were both sitting on their kitchen pillows shaking and looking terrified.

  “Well done, you two,” I sniped. “I suppose it was too much to expect you to chase him away after the first broken plate.”

  Lana went right for the broom closet. “I can clean this up if you all want to go back to the dining room and continue.” She shot me a secret wink to let me know she’d had enough of the séance.”

  “That is very generous of you, Lana.” I reached for the broom. “But you’re the guest. I’ll pick up the mess.”

  Lana held on firmly to the broom and gritted her teeth. “It’s no bother, really, sis.”

  “But I insist,” I muttered back through a clenched jaw.

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Raine said, her voice dull with disappointment. “The moment has passed. Even if the spirit was around, he’s not going to show himself now.”

  “I’m
truly sorry about the abrupt end, Raine.” I walked to the refrigerator and reached in for my surprise dessert. “But if it helps, I’ve got berry trifle with fresh whipped cream.”

  Raine’s sour mood disappeared quickly. “That definitely takes the sting out of the disappointment.”

  Emily went to the cupboard to get more plates. “We can eat at the séance table and then Lana and I can help you clean up after we devour that trifle.”

  Raine walked next to me as I carried the dessert to the dining room. “I think it was too much wine. It threw off my brainwaves, making it harder for me to sink into the trance I need to reach the spirit world. Next time we try this, I’ll avoid drinking wine.”

  “Uh, we had a deal, Raine. One séance. You gave it an admirable try, my friend. Maybe Edward Beckett has found a new love in the ghost world and left Bonnie behind for good.”

  “Maybe,” she said lightly as we walked into the dining room. “Guess we’ll never know if you’re going to hold us to that silly handshake over lunch.”

  “I am. So let’s move on from ghosts and dig into this luscious dessert.”

  Chapter 28

  I wasn’t in the office twenty seconds when Parker leaned out of his door and bellowed for me to come inside. Maybe bellowed was too harsh. Shouted gently might have been a better description. Either way, it seemed I’d done something wrong.

  Myrna shot me a worried looked over the top of her monitor as I pushed my purse into my desk drawer and headed across the cluttered newsroom to his office. Parker had settled back into his chair behind the desk as I stepped inside the office. He was holding a carton of strawberry yogurt.

  He pointed to the metal folding chair. I sat down and waited as he ate a spoonful. He winced and bunched up his bulbous nose. “That’s truly awful. Like eating baby food.” He leaned over and dropped the yogurt in the trash can. “Wife has me on a diet.” He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a package of powdered sugar donuts and a bottle of antacid. “Donuts give me heartburn. These days, everything gives me heartburn.”

  He placed the package of donuts on a pile of papers and thumbed through a separate pile before pulling out one page. He tossed it across the desk at me. I recognized it instantly as my story on the summer work program. There was one red mark indicating where I’d left off a comma and a sticky note that said, “is this it?” I wasn’t sure what the note meant, but I was pretty sure I could guess.

  “You put out a clean first draft, Taylor.” He pulled out a second piece of paper that was more red ink than type. “This is what Evans’ first draft looks like. It’s hardly recognizable as the English language. But he does occasionally deliver something compelling.” He tapped my article with his thick finger. “This is not compelling or engaging or even the tiniest bit noteworthy.”

  “I agree.” I pulled the slump out of my posture. “But in my defense, the topic was hardly compelling or engaging or noteworthy.”

  I startled when he slapped his desk. “You don’t get to have a defense. A good reporter makes any topic readable.”

  “I could interview the kids and see how they feel about the work program. Get their opinions on it.”

  He laughed. “Yes, that should give you a raw, more double edged look at the program.”

  I sat forward. “Or …” I started but paused, as he picked up the donut package and wrestled with the noisy cellophane wrapper for a few seconds. I decided to wait until he had a donut in his mouth, hoping it would make him more receptive to my suggestion.

  I waited for the cough attack that was required when eating a donut covered with powdered sugar. He covered his mouth with the side of his fist and sputtered for a few seconds, then drank some coffee to clear away the sugar.

  Parker looked up at me almost as if he’d forgotten I was sitting across from him.

  “I’m working on another story. Actually, it’s the first assignment you gave me, the one about the custodian, Alder Stevens.”

  “But he’s dead.”

  “Yes, I’m well aware of that.” I held back a grin. “Probably more aware than you realize.”

  He was too focused on his donut breakfast to notice my cryptic follow-up comment.

  Just as I opened my mouth to give my reasoning for covering the Alder Stevens story, a sharp knock was followed by the door swinging open. Chase strode in wearing a crisp blue dress shirt and a palmful too much hair product.

  “Evans, what the heck do you think you’re doing? Don’t you knock?”

  Chase motioned back to the door. “I did knock.”

  “Yes, but it’s customary to wait for the invitation to enter, otherwise it renders the knock nothing more than an annoying sound on the door.”

  Chase glanced over at me. I handed him back a deserved glower. It seemed that he was making a habit of barging in on my meetings with Parker.

  “I could come back,” Chase suggested half-heartedly.

  “Now that you’ve interrupted us, what do you want? Actually, I don’t care what you want. How far are you on that story about the murder? I need it by Friday, or the paper goes to print without the most newsworthy story.” Parker looked pointedly at my dull article about the work program. “And at this moment, there isn’t anything to save our next edition aside from some decent coupons from the shoe repair shop and Layers.”

  “I’m waiting for my daily briefing from the police. But you know how stubborn and cocky that Detective Jackson is.”

  “Sure do,” I muttered to myself. They both looked my direction, assuring me that I’d said it louder than expected. “Carry on.” I sat back to listen.

  Chase seemed to be mulling over whether or not he should divulge his collected information with me in the office. Parker wasn’t in the mood for his silly tactics.

  “Out with it, Evans. You’re the one that plowed into my office during a meeting. What have you found out?”

  “There is some story about the weapon, a relic of some kind, that belonged to a gangster back in the olden days.”

  Parker sat forward, his face redder than when he choked on the powdered sugar dust. “Some story? You’re basing an entire article on ‘some story’? And what the heck are olden days to you? The seventies?”

  I’d had my morning’s entertainment and decided it was time to slip out. I had things to do. “Excuse me, I’ll leave you two to discuss the olden days.” I stood from the chair and reached for my edited story with the one red mark, but Parker slapped his hand down on it.

  “Get me more than this, Taylor. I don’t think the paper can last on coupons alone.”

  “I’ll bring you something better.” I flashed a smile at Chase and walked out of the office. My first stop, on my way to ‘something better’ was Alder Stevens’ house.

  Chapter 29

  I followed Emily’s directions to Alder’s house. It was located on a small cul-de-sac with only four other houses. Mature sweet gum trees and red maples shaded the entire street, adding to the rich, cozy quiet of the neighborhood. There was a car or two parked in neighboring driveways. Across the street, a tan and black German shepherd had caught wind or sight or sound of me and was eyeing me suspiciously through the slats on his backyard gate. I had hoped to see a neighbor out watering or collecting mail so I could introduce myself and gather a few more details about Alder, but no such luck. It seemed it was just me and the shepherd and a few curious birds.

  Alder’s house was a cute brick and stucco home with symmetrical, neatly trimmed hedges bordering a frilly green lawn that looked as if it was in need of a mower. It was one of those houses that showed true pride of ownership. It wasn’t stuffy or ostentatious. It looked loved and homey. It was sad to think that the pretty, little house had been left completely alone now, with no one to water its trees or keep dust off its porch.

  Speaking of dust on the porch, gigantic footprints crisscrossed the thin layer of debris and dirt littering the steps and front stoop. I had no proof, but I could venture an educated guess that the print
s belonged to Detective Jackson. It made sense that they would scour Alder’s home for some clues to help point the way to his killer. I walked on tiptoes, not wanting to disturb the left behind footprints. I pulled on the glove I’d brought along and turned the doorknob. I wasn’t surprised to find it locked. The drapes on the front window had been pulled shut, giving me only the tiniest sliver of an opening to peer inside. The limited view only gave me a glimpse of the arm of a dark green couch and the corner of a floral rug. But I was still holding out hope that I could see through the back of the house. I had no idea what I’d find that would be worthwhile to solving Alder’s murder, but I hoped to get more of a feeling about what kind of man Alder was. Thus far, I’d heard some very conflicting narratives about the man.

  I reached over the top of the back gate and flicked open the latch. The backyard, like the front, was in need of a lawnmower. The array of potted plants and impressive ferns hanging from mossy baskets along the back of the porch showed more of the same care and attention to detail as the landscaping in the front yard. The backyard had an added bonus. Just as Emily had mentioned, there were dozens of handcrafted birdhouses, of every color, shape and size, hanging from the sprawling oak tree that kept the yard cool with shade. Some sparrows and finches twittered in the gnarled branches above the dangling display of birdhouses. Most of the tiny houses had front porches that acted as containers for bird seed. But all of the front porches were empty. Without Alder, there had been no one to refill them.