Spooky Trills (Alice Whitehouse Book 2)

by Nic Saint

  “Happy Bays Golf Club,” the developer corrected me before he could stop himself.

  “Oh, you have a name picked out and everything, huh?” I asked. “You’re a quick worker.”

  “This is our dream,” said Dorritt, eyeing Lawton affectionately.

  “I take it you didn’t like duck farming all that much?”

  “I hated it,” she said, a tiny frown marring her otherwise smooth brow. “All that muck and stink. Even if you shower you can’t get that horrible stench off.”

  “Now you will, darling,” said Lawton, drawing closer and taking her hand in his. “Now you will be able to live the easy, happy life. The life unencumbered by these smelly foul beasts.”

  “Foul fowl,” Fee muttered.

  “You realize this puts you in an awkward position, don’t you?” I asked Dorritt.

  “I know how this looks,” she acknowledged. “But I didn’t kill my husband, and neither did Lawton. Banning and I were going to get a divorce.”

  “That was decided already?”

  “It was. He wanted to pursue his musical career—”

  Lawton snorted derisively. “Not much of a career, if you ask me.”

  “Now don’t mock him, dear,” said Dorritt. “Banning might have lacked the talent, but he had passion.”

  “Like us,” said Lawton, pulling Dorritt close to him. For the next few seconds, the sounds of kissing joined the soft quacking from the ducks.

  “Yes,” I said, clearing my throat. “So about the murder…”

  “Oh, right,” said Dorritt, flushing slightly. “We had an agreement. He was going to go off to Vegas, and I was going to live here with Lawton, once the golf course was constructed.”

  “You were going to buy the land?” I asked.

  “Yes, indeed. Negotiations were going very well, and we’d already agreed on a fair price.”

  “You mean Banning knew about the affair?” asked Fee.

  “Of course he knew,” said Lawton. “And he approved wholeheartedly, didn’t he, darling?”

  “Well, perhaps that’s pushing it a little,” said Dorritt. “But he knew.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have to ask,” I said. “Where were you yesterday morning between seven and eight, Mr. Pacey?”

  “I was at the Happy Bays Inn, where I usually stay when I’m in town. You can ask the receptionist. I’d just come down for breakfast when Dorritt called me with the terrible news.” He fingered his bulbous nose for a moment. “Quite ironically, there’s a convention of Elvis impersonators going on at the Inn. Which left me surrounded by all these coiffed lookalikes. Very disconcerting. Especially in light of recent events.”

  “What about your sons?” I asked.

  Dorritt stiffened. “What about them?”

  “Did they know about you and Mr. Pacey?”

  “Yes, they did,” she admitted. “They couldn’t have been more supportive. They weren’t all that fond of their father, you see, especially after he cut them from his will. They hoped I’d finally find happiness with Lawton, who’s a dear, dear man.”

  “Why, thank you, darling,” Lawton said with a smirk.

  “Well, you are,” she said. “You’re such a gentleman.”

  “Did any of the boys approach you for a financial contribution?” asked Fee.

  Lawton laughed. “Oh, now the cat’s out of the bag. Yes, they did.”

  “And?”

  “Well, I turned them down, of course. I believe in a man making his own way in life, and not expecting handouts. In that respect I was on the same page as Banning.”

  “They mustn’t have liked that,” said Fee.

  “They could like it or lump it,” said the man, pushing out his chest.

  Dorritt stood nodding her head. “This is our dream. Our personal project. Don’t get me wrong. I love my boys, but enough is enough. They sponged off Banning for far too long, and he was right in cutting them loose.” She looked up at Lawton with a wistful smile. “We’re setting a new course, Lawton and I. A new future. And if the boys want to have a place, they’re going to have to step up and pay the price of admission.”

  Chapter 18

  We watched Dorritt and her new beau walk out of the barn, where they’d probably been discussing club house decoration plans, and suddenly I saw a familiar figure hovering near the back of the barn, obscured by darkness.

  “There’s Banning now,” I told Fee. “He doesn’t look happy.”

  “Would you look happy when you were shot and you saw your wife making out with the guy who’s going to sell your farm and turn it into a luxury golf resort?”

  “Um… I guess not. If I had a wife, that is.”

  We approached the farmer, stealthily creeping in his direction. We didn’t want to scare him off, as he seemed one of those cagey ghosts that don’t like human company.

  “Hey, Banning,” I said. “Great to see you again.”

  “We haven’t met,” said Fee. “I’m Felicity Bell.”

  “I know who you are,” said Banning, looking past us at the entrance to the barn. His face revealed his dismay at the scene he’d just witnessed and I couldn’t blame him.

  “I knew it,” he said in a low growl. “I knew she was having an affair.”

  “Yeah, I heard all about you guys getting a divorce,” I said commiseratively.

  He looked up sharply. “Divorce? I never said anything about a divorce.”

  “Oh, your son Carney told me. He said you were both going your separate ways. You to enjoy a nice career in Vegas, and Dorritt… doing whatever here in Happy Bays.”

  “Carney said that?”

  “Yup. He seemed pretty well informed. Said you’d confided in him during your last Vegas trip. The one where you shared the stage?” I eyed him closely, hoping he’d confirm or deny, as by now we’d been fed conflicting versions of this father-son relationship.

  The old farmer shook his head. “I never shared the stage with that moron.”

  “So you never went to Vegas with Carney? Had your picture taken wearing matching costumes?”

  “Never,” he growled. “I haven’t spoken to those three idiots since they came round a couple of years ago demanding I invest in their businesses. I told them they could kiss my furry—”

  “Yes, we get the picture,” said Fee.

  “Huh,” I said. “So Carney lied?”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me,” said the farmer. “That boy lies all the time. Like when he told me his business was going gangbusters and if I invested with him I’d clean up. When I talked to his banker he told me a different story. Same thing with Jack and Kelley. Full of hot air, the lot of them.”

  “Which is why you cut them from your will,” I said.

  He eyed me narrowly. “Who told you about that?”

  “My uncle. Charlie Whitehouse? He told me you were best buds—or was that a lie, too?”

  “No, that’s true,” he admitted. He seemed to mellow. “I totally forgot you were Charlie’s niece. So is he doing the funeral?”

  “He is. He’s working on you right now.” Oops. I should not have said that. Most dead people hate it when they’re reminded of the fact that they are, well, dead. But Banning merely grunted with approval. The fact seemed to please him.

  “Uncle Charlie also told me that belt buckle you said the killer stole wasn’t stainless steel but a regular gem. He said it was encrusted with diamonds.”

  “Charlie’s got a big mouth,” he grumbled.

  “But is it true? I mean, if it is, that might be the motive for murder.”

  “Yes, it’s true,” he said reluctantly, digging his ghostly feet into a pile of duck manure. “I never told anyone of its true value. They would only have tried to steal it from me.”

  “So your uncle Charlie was right,” said Fee. “That belt buckle might have been the motive for murder.”

  “Are you still sure it was the King himself who killed you, Banning?” I asked.

  “Well…” He spat out an uniden
tified substance. There was a soft splat when it hit the plank floor. Huh. So ghosts could spit. Who knew. “The thing is, it might have been a lookalike,” he finally admitted. “I mean, I was so undone at the time… But if it was, it was a darn good one. Spitting image of the King. He even said the King’s famous catchphrase.”

  “Which is?” I asked.

  “Thank you. Thank you very much,” he said in the King’s trademark drawl.

  “Hey, that’s not bad,” I said with a laugh.

  Banning smiled. “I had a lot of practice.”

  Fee showed her arm. “Look at that. I’ve got goosebumps.”

  “Thank you,” Banning repeated. “Thank you very much.”

  “That sounds just like the King,” said Fee.

  “Thank you,” said Banning, pleased as punch. “Thank you very much.”

  “Right,” I said, my enthusiasm waning. “So let me get this straight. The belt buckle was worth a fortune. You hadn’t filed for divorce, and you cut your sons from your will.” I glanced at Fee. “Seems to me there’s been a lot of lying going on.”

  “Not only didn’t I file for divorce, but I didn’t know Dorritt was having an affair with that douchebag,” said Banning.

  “More lies,” I said. “It seems like everybody’s been lying to us, Fee.”

  “Looks like,” Fee agreed.

  “Did your boys know that you cut them from your will?” I asked. “Because Dorritt said that they did.”

  “I never told them. Maybe Dorritt did.”

  “Or maybe she didn’t, which means they might have expected to inherit if you died.”

  “Maybe they did,” he agreed. “Which means they were simply waiting for me to die so they could sell the farm and divide the proceeds.”

  “And start looking for the money you buried,” I said, watching him closely.

  He gave me a sheepish look. “Charlie again, huh? That man should learn to keep his trap shut.”

  Fee let out a squeal of excitement. “So there is money buried around here?”

  “Don’t you go and tell anyone now, you hear?” Banning said. “This place will be crawling with gold diggers if word gets out.”

  Just then, I heard the telltale sound of a shovel digging into the earth. We all hurried over in the direction it seemed to be coming from and peeked through a crack in the barn wall. And wouldn’t you know it? Just outside the barn, Carney was digging a hole, sweat streaming down his face. For once he’d exchanged his three-piece suit for coveralls and a ball cap. Ten feet away, Kelley was also digging a hole, dressed in similar fashion, and another few feet away, Jack was also breaking ground.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Banning said, visibly disconcerted.

  “Looks like your big secret isn’t such a big secret after all,” said Fee.

  “So much for my double ruse,” said Banning.

  “Double ruse?”

  “Yeah, I figured if I spread the word that there was money buried on the farm, then spread the word that I made all that up to prove I was more successful than I was, people would leave well enough alone.” He shook his head. “I should have gone for the triple ruse.”

  “Wait, why did you spread the rumor in the first place? If you’d have said nothing no one would have known,” I said.

  Banning stared at me. “Well, hot damn. I guess I didn’t think that through, huh?”

  “No, I guess you didn’t,” I said as I stared at Carney taking off his ball cap and wiping his brow with a very large handkerchief, then tucking it back into the front of his coveralls and resume digging.

  “Are they digging in the right place, Banning?” asked Fee.

  Banning chuckled. “Not by a long shot. And that’s all I’m saying on the matter,” he quickly added. “No way in hell am I revealing where I buried that money.”

  “But you’re dead,” said Fee, a little disrespectfully. “That money’s no good to you.”

  “Yeah, and if you tell us we can donate it to any cause you’d like,” I said. “Like the Elvis Impersonators… Pension Fund?”

  He scowled at me. “Why should I trust you? For all I know you’ll take that money straight down to Vegas and gamble it all away on the slot machines.”

  “I wouldn’t,” I assured him. “I’m not into gambling.” Which was true. I’d never even seen one of those fabled one-armed bandits in my life. Unless you could call the bubblegum machine a slot machine.

  “We won’t spend your money in Vegas, Mr. Pender,” Fee said. “We’re honest people.”

  “That’s what they all say,” Banning scoffed, “and then suddenly they shoot you full of holes and take off with your million-dollar belt buckle!” And with these words, he suddenly popped off, disappearing in a puff of smoke. It was a nice exit, and Fee and I stood there, staring at one another, both mouthing the words, ‘Million-dollar buckle?!’

  “Now that’s what I call a motive for murder,” said Fee. “I would kill for a million-dollar buckle.”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” I said. “You wouldn’t kill for a nickel belt buckle.”

  “I guess you’re right,” she said. “I don’t have the killer instinct.”

  We resumed staring out at Carney, Kelley and Jack, digging holes with unrestrained enthusiasm. “Bet they have the killer instinct,” I said.

  “Yep. So we just went from no suspects to four suspects again, huh?”

  I sighed. “Why do I feel we’re just running around in circles, trying to catch people in lies?”

  “Because we are,” she said. She then took a paper baggie out of nowhere and took out a croissant and dug in. When she noticed I was staring at the croissant, she asked, “Want one? Here, take a chocolate croissant. Left over from this morning’s bread run.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you very much.”

  “Ha,” said Fee. “You’re funny.”

  “Thank you. Thank you very—”

  “Now you’re just showing off.”

  We were distracted when Fee’s phone rang out Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off. She took it out while we walked out of the barn and back to the car.

  “Yes, Ricky?” she spoke into the phone. She listened for a moment, a frown on her face, then held out the phone and tapped a button, putting Rick on speaker.

  “… so my contact managed to get the name of the guy involved but not his exact location or any identifying information. He’s a pretty savvy hacker, apparently. Goes by the name of Venganza Mierda. Oh, and get this. He’s using an avatar picture of Sheena Easton. The eighties pop star?”

  “Yes, I know who Sheena Easton is, Ricky,” said Fee. “But what does she have to do with this hacker business?”

  “No idea. Rufus said he’d keep working on it, though. If anyone can find out who’s behind it, it’s him. Oh, and don’t tell Alice, but Reece said to say hi.”

  Fee’s face reddened. “You’re on speaker, honey.”

  “Oh.” Rick was quiet for a moment. “Hi, Alice.”

  “Hi, Ricky,” I said in my sweetest voice. “Did you tell Reece I found love in the arms of a handsome police detective?”

  “Um… should I?”

  Fee was shaking her head no. “Yes, you should.”

  “Great,” he said. “Then I’ll tell him. He’ll be very pleased. He told me he worries about you.”

  “Worries about me?!” I exploded. “Maybe he should have thought of that before he kicked me to the curb.”

  “Yes, well,” he muttered.

  “See, this is why they established this rule about not staying friends with your bestie’s exes,” I said. “It can only lead to heartache and trouble.”

  “Right,” he said curtly. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” and promptly disconnected.

  “That went well,” said Fee, tucking her phone away.

  “I thought so.”

  We walked on in silence for a moment, then I burst out, “The nerve of the guy!”

  “Alice,” Fee said warningly. “Shake it of
f, honey. Just shake it off.”

  “Thank you,” I said moodily. “Thank you very much.”

  Chapter 19

  Sitting at our usual corner table at Bell’s, Fee and I tried to decide where to go from here while enjoying cups of hot cocoa and two slices of lemon meringue pie. A slice for me and a slice for Fee, that is, not two slices each. Unlike what you might think, I’m not a glutton.

  “So what do we know about the Banning Pender murder?” asked Fee, forking a piece of pie into her mouth and closing her eyes as she bit down. “Mhhhhh,” she murmured. “Uncle Achilles is a genius.”

  “He is,” I agreed. “Best pie baker in town.”

  “In the country,” she said, going for a second piece of pie. “The universe!”

  “The Banning Pender murder,” I said, also savoring some lemon meringue.

  “Right. We have to focus, Alice.”

  “Right. So Carney said he was home with his family. Kelley was at a car show in Long Island City. Jack… what was Jack’s alibi?”

  “He didn’t have any,” said Fee. “So he might be our guy.”

  “Oh. I don’t want that. I like Jack’s Joint. It’s my place to unwind.”

  “Find another place. We have a killer to catch, honey.”

  “Carney might have convinced his wife to lie for him.”

  “And his three sons?”

  “Right,” I said thoughtfully. “And then there’s Lawton Pacey, of course, who claims he was at the Happy Bays Inn.”

  “That’s easy to confirm.”

  “I’m going over there later, with Uncle Charlie. Try and find Priscilla.”

  “Good idea. You do that while I…” She closed her eyes as she savored another piece of pie. “Oh, my God. It’s as if I’m tasting this for the first time. It’s so good!”

  “That might be the pregnancy,” I said. “Your appetite is snowballing.”

  “I hope not. I’m trying to lose weight.”

  “Not a good time to go on a diet I’m afraid,” I said.

  “I told Ricky I would slim down for the wedding.”