Murder on the Ghost Walk

by Constance Barker

  Jaxon laughed. “I remember that. And it was true.”

  Lambert snorted. “Yep. And it is the same here. Whoever comes forward, to help with or talk about the ‘evidence’ we have against George and Nikki is the murderer.”

  Grandma shook her head in confusion. “But what if they don’t?”

  Lauren grunted. “Then either our bluff didn’t work. Or the killer will try to destroy the evidence.”

  Jaxon cleared his throat. “That’s the rub, isn’t it? Whoever has the fictitious evidence could be in danger.”

  Lambert nodded. “Indeed. That is why we want you and Raine to tell Twain you found evidence and turned it over to use. You tell him that is why you came in this morning. And remember we never had this meeting, it was to hand over evidence to us.”

  Lauren’s face became stern. “So what are we going to tell Twain?”

  The sound of my own voice surprised me. “We tell him we know who took out the cameras. And who may have done it. And that we gave you all the information and evidence.”

  The two homicide detectives bored holes into me with the stares. Lambert asked, “And why that?”

  I shrugged. “Andrew knows the curator. And he could easily have been given access to private information about the museum and its operations.”

  Lambert took his hands from his pockets and leaned on the table. “That will work. Twain is the best to tell, he is the center of gossip in this town. But make sure you stress you have nothing. That you gave everything to me. Got it?”

  “Yeah. The last thing I want is a crazed murderer to be hunting for me.” I felt my mouth becoming dry.

  Grandma look worried. “Dear, I don’t know. This sounds dangerous.”

  Lauren’s gaze turned to Jaxon. “You licensed to carry?”

  “Yeah. You know I am.”

  Lauren’s voice became defensive. “Gotta follow protocol and confirm it.” Then she stiffened. “Make sure you carry it with you at all times and don’t leave Raine alone. We’ll be watching, too, helping to protect you. And remember, the first one to come to you, looking to help or to talk about the evidence against George and Nikki, will likely be the murderer.”

  Grandma looked at Lambert, but he spoke first. “I know. But I can’t let you be part of this. It may involve more than I am willing to put you through.”

  Grandma hung her head. “She is my granddaughter. My world. I raised her after her mother left for Europe and never came back. I can’t let anything happen to her.”

  Lauren winced in compassion. “You won’t. It’s why it is so important to say we, the state homicide detectives, have all the evidence. They will come after the ones with the evidence that can convict them. So you must say we have the evidence if anyone asks.”

  Grandma tilted her head to one side. “And what do we say to the rest of our friends?”

  Lambert shot back. “Nothing beyond what you tell Twain. I wanted you to be part of this Rose specifically because of your concerns for Raine. I didn’t think it was right to exclude you. But to tell the others about our plan risks our bluff. So we need to keep this to ourselves. And you can’t tell them anything, because...”

  Jaxon cut him off. “I know. This meeting never happened. So when do we tell Twain.”

  The two detectives locked eyes for a second, then Lambert shrugged. “Now. No need to wait.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jaxon’s car was parked across from the police station and we crossed the street, then piled in. We drove Grandma back to The Monkey's Eyebrow and dropped her off. After that, Jaxon navigated to the town's public lot and found a parking space. He turned to me after releasing his seat belt. “We need to get our story straight before we go in to see Twain. We can’t contradict one another.”

  “I know. So what is our story?”

  “I think you had it right. Andrew found proof that the cameras were messed with. And also that the only way the knives could have been taken from the library and Jack killed so quickly in the conservatory would have been multiple killers.”

  I sighed. “But that is just theory. No evidence. We need something that would be actual evidence we found and gave to Lambert.”

  Jaxon nodded. “Okay, how about this. Andrew found records from the museum, that he turned over to the police, that show the cameras were turned off, on purpose.”

  “That will work. And the knives, or second set of gloves?”

  Jaxon hemmed and hawed. “What about this. There were shards of glass somewhere?”

  I nodded. “That is good. But where?”

  “On the tour bus? No, that is no good.”

  I threw out, “How about a piece of glass with some blood on it.”

  Jaxon sighed. “No that is no good, we don’t know the killer got cut when they broke the display’s glass.”

  “Shoot, you’re right.”

  Jaxon lay his head back on the headrest and laughed. “You know, sometimes the most obvious things are the hardest to see.”

  “Okay, now you sound like a character from that old Kung Fu show.”

  Jaxon picked his head up and blinked a few times. “The rubber gloves stashed in Nikki’s purse. We say the police lifted DNA off of them.”

  I slapped the top of the glove box. “Son of a...that’s brilliant, Jaxon. And we never even had that evidence. Then we drop a comment about wanting to find the second pair, hoping to find DNA in them, too.”

  “Now that we have our story, are you alright with making the bluff. We need to make this believable to Twain. He knows you. You can’t show a crack in our story. He will smell it.”

  I sighed. “To be honest, it does feel like lying. And I hate using Mr. Twain. But he does talk to everybody, and he is terrible at keeping a secret. Plus, he has to deal with all the people on the tour bus. It’s his job. So it make sense to use him, but I just don’t want him to be put into danger.”

  “He’ll be fine. None of this comes back on him, he is just the relay for the message.”

  Jaxon put his head back on the headrest. “The part I hate is we know the police don’t think Nikki did it, and we can’t tell Pinball.”

  “I didn’t even think of that, but you’re right. Grandma wants him gone, and so does Daisy.” I could hear my voice becoming slightly muted as I finished.

  “So, we have a number of good reasons to do this. You ready?”

  “Yeah, as ready as I’m gonna be.” I turned to look him in the eyes. “Thanks for doing this. We have asked too much of you, and you gave without hesitation. I won’t forget it.”

  “Don’t mention it. It’s the right thing to do. A murderer needs to face justice. And Grandma Rose wants her tea room back to normal. How can I say no?” He smiled. “Let’s get this over with. Think about it, this is the easy part. The hard part is going to be waiting around afterwards for something to happen.” Jaxon grabbed the door handle and popped it open.

  I followed his lead and we made our way over to the tourist center. It was now late morning, or in the tea room profession, brunch. Just after eleven o’clock in the morning.

  As we walked up the large set of porch steps, a woman passed by us on her way out. She was one of the tour group. I knew, because I had seen her a few times in the tea room. I tried to remember her name, and I think it was Cindy.

  We entered the tourist center and found Mr. Twain in his office, working behind the old wooden desk. Jaxon announced us. “Hello, we came to chit chat. You have a minute to give us?”

  Mr. Twain leaned back in his chair. “What man owns time and give a minute of precious time away? I would like to meet such a man. But I would be glad to share some time with you.”

  Both of us chuckled and I said, “Thank you. We know you are busy with this tour group from Pittsburgh and the unusual recent events.”

  Mr. Twain shrugged. “I’m not really any more busy than normal. It’s my job. Well, not the murder part. But taking care of the tour groups is what I do. The murder part it is beyond my abilities and
responsibilities. It’s why we have a paid police force.”

  Jaxon sighed. “About the murder. I was hoping to run something by you. See if you can add anything to our findings. You know, based on what you know about the people in the tour group and the events you saw in the museum that night.”

  “Sure. But I told everything to the police and everyone else who has talked to me. Including your little inspector's club.”

  I chuckled. “It’s not a club. We don’t have a handshake or secret decoder pin.”

  Twain’s eyes lit up. “Oh, decoder pins. I had one of those as a kid. And all that it was good for was hidden commercials. But me and my friends used them to send messages to each other. I’m not sure...”

  Jaxon cut him off. “I’m sorry. We are short on time today. Can we stick to the business of the dead man in the museum?”

  Mr. Twain pinched his white, puffy eyebrows and sighed. “I’m sorry. My focus does sometimes wander.”

  Jaxon continued. “We found evidence that the security cameras were messed with the night of the murder. And the ones that would reveal the murderer were all turned off. We turned over the records from the museum that show they were intentionally shut off and not malfunctioning.”

  Mr. Twain’s expressive eyebrows went from pinched to raised quickly. “Well, that makes more sense. That never held water in my opinion. Too convenient. The detectives must have been appreciative for the break.”

  “They were. Lambert felt it was too convenient as well. And there is something else. The rubber gloves found on Nikki had DNA inside them that the police were able to lift and identify. But we suspect there is a second set of gloves and we want to find them. Analyze them, too.”

  Twain chuckled. “Well I’ll be hornswoggled.”

  I asked, “Have you seen or heard anything that takes on new meaning after hearing this new information?”

  Mr. Twain nodded no. “Not really. But I will keep it in mind and mull it over. The fact you think there may be a second killer is interesting for sure. And I will be happy when we are sure the murderer, or murderers, are behind bars.”

  Jaxon snorted. “We all will be. Thanks for the time Mr. Twain. Let us know if you think of something or have an idea where the second set of gloves was discarded.” He paused, then added. “Don’t work too hard, I know this group was large and more difficult than usual.”

  “My good man, hard work is is hardly a chore if you love what you do. I get to meet people, write, and drink bourbon. A day’s hard work is what I hope for everyday!”

  Jaxon and I both laughed. I offered, “Well said, better than Samuel Clemens himself.” We stood and said our goodbyes, then made a quick exit.

  On our way down the front stairs, Jaxon said, “Well, now the agony of waiting begins.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The day was passing fast and the clock read twelve thirty-five when Jaxon and I returned to the tea room. Jaxon said hello to everyone, then headed back to his car. He had calls to make and other work to catch up on.

  Jessica and Andrew were back at the laptop working the databases. Pinball was curled up on a couple of chairs in the corner, sleeping. I noticed the table that had become our central gathering spot was littered with papers and dirty dishes around the laptop, so I went over to bus the table.

  As I reached for a tea cup, Jessica slapped my hand. She said, “Don’t you dare. I got three and a half hours sleep last night. I need that tea. You take it and you get hurt.”

  I withdrew my hand. “Wow, good to see you, too.”

  Jessica sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get to bed until one-thirty last night. And the kids got me up at five. They said they wanted pancakes.”

  “I know how you feel. I had to get up about the same time to come into the tea room and get things ready. We're all tired today.”

  Jessica nodded, “Yeah, I am tired, but I’m also kind of angry. All this work and all I keep finding is this Pittsburgh group of people are boring.”

  I chuckled. “Not that boring. After all, somehow they managed to leave a dead man in the museum.”

  “You know, I have been hearing a lot of people say the ghost did it. Just like the first two Montague murders.” Jessica raised her eyebrows to indicate she wanted to know what I thought.

  I answered. “Really? You are falling for it, too? It isn’t the ghost.”

  Andrew chuckled. “I told her a million times. The ghost is not the murderer.”

  “What are you doing now, Andrew?” I peeked over his shoulder to get a glimpse of the computer screen.

  “I decided to set up a web bot to cross reference the backgrounds for everyone on the tour bus. Jaxon showed me how to do it. But it was a lot of work to set up. Jessica and I are just finishing and ready to run it.” He gloated a bit with a broad grin.

  “Listen to you. Handyman to computer expert throwing around the lingo. Well, it will be interesting to see what comes up.” I took some plates that held remnants of food from last night’s marathon session.

  A grunt and muffled snore grabbed our attention. Andrew snorted. “You know, Pinball is the one on a mission to get Nikki out of jail, but he somehow is the one sleeping. How does that work?”

  Jessica sighed. “No one ever said life was fair. So is it running?”

  Andrew nodded. “Yeah. It is. Now we wait.”

  If Andrew only knew how true his words were. I kept looking out the storefront windows and had an eye on the front door. Jaxon knew when we left the tourist center and he warned me. He was right. The waiting was difficult and with each minute that passed my nerves became more frayed.

  We managed to get through the lunch service with Aunt Mabel’s help. She always lent a hand when the tea room needed extra help. And we needed all the assistance we could get today.

  And like clock work, Leon Baker showed up for a late lunch. He was sweet on Mabel and never missed an opportunity to flirt with her when she worked the tea room. It was one of the few times she was out of her house and not knitting.

  Leon said, “Did you hear? Big scuffle at the campground this morning. Seems some bikers had a turf war over the showers. Who would have thought bikers had such good hygiene?”

  I laughed. “We had to go drop some evidence with Lambert at the police station this morning. I saw them, and they didn’t look like they were well groomed.”

  Leon chuckled. “Bikers fight over anything, especially if another gang is involved.”

  Jaxon burst through the front door with a burst of energy. “You are not going to believe this! I have a friend at the FBI...it’s not important where she is. But I got a list of all the previous victims of Jack Richardson’s cons.” He held up his phone as if we could all read the tiny screen from across the room. He realized we could not see it and added, “Sorry. Andrew, it should be in my inbox on the laptop too. Open it up.”

  Andrew pulled up the email folder and sure enough, there was an email from an Abby Campbell with an attachment. He opened the attached file and gasped. “Whoa. That is a lot of people to con. So what do we do with this?”

  Jaxon cringed. “Isn’t it obvious. Run the cross checks of the people on tour bus with the people who have been conned. We previously assumed he could have been killed by an old colleague over some spat or cut from a take, but it’s also possible one of his old victims was out for revenge.”

  Andrew sighed. “I don’t know. Sounds like a long shot.”

  Jaxon nodded. “Yeah, it is. But you got the bot set up right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So it’s easy to just add the new names into the algorithm. And we have nothing better to do, so it's worth exploring.”

  Jessica huffed and pushed Andrew to the side. “Alright, let me at it. You’ve been on the keyboard a while. I’ll give you a break and put in the new names.”

  Pinball showed some signs of life and sat up straight on his makeshift bed. “What did I miss. We ready to bust some skulls yet?”

  Jessica chuckled and m
uttered. “Does he only know two or three lines?”

  I snickered. “I don’t think he is awake yet.”

  Grandma flicked her eyes to the kitchen and I understood. With as much subtly as I could manage, I slunk into the kitchen and waited for Grandma to join me. It didn’t take long and she entered, a bit jittery. “Raine, I don’t like this. I keep staring out the windows and waiting for something bad to happen.”

  “Me too. But, Jaxon is here and he is armed. And we don’t have any evidence, real or from the story we concocted, for anyone to come for us. We should be fine.”

  “I’m glad Mabel came today. I’m a useless wreck. I can only imagine how you and Jaxon feel. Now I understand why Detective Lambert did not want me to go with you and talk to Twain.”

  “You’re doing fine. You’re just letting your nerves get the best of you. Come on, let’s get back to work and focus on something else.” I put my arm around Grandma and walked back out into the dining area.

  We served a few customers and passed the time with idle chatter. Until Lewis Bellamy walked into The Monkey’s Eyebrow at two thirty.

  Lewis waved at me and said, “Can I talk to you?”

  I shrugged. “Sure. What can I do for you Lewis?”

  The man was soft spoken and moved at a reduced pace, making every motion seem calculated and graceful. He pulled me off to one side and said, “As you know, our tour group is being held here in Sinking Springs until the police are satisfied enough to let us leave. We are trying to expedite the matter and have heard you found something. Did you find another set of gloves?”

  “No. We just think there may be another set of gloves. And they could have DNA on them. So we are looking for them, but it is just a theory. Do you know anything about where they may be?”

  He sighed. “I see. And, no I don’t know anything about the gloves. What about the cameras? Did you find out something about them?”