Until she turned her iPad around and showed me a headline of an article online.
WOMAN FOUND MURDERED IN DELANEY HOUSE. POLICE SEARCH FOR HUSBAND.
I took the iPad from her and started reading. The article didn’t give me any more information than Beverly Norris’s recounting of the event. It was the same story. The husband disappeared without a trace after murdering his wife. “There’s no mention of the husband being possessed by the ghost of Brigit Delaney.”
“That idea came later when a few inquiring paranormal investigators came to town, hoping to sensationalize the murder. And with every ridiculous story, we managed to discourage anything that could sensationalize this town. We have to do that again with these Ghost Watchers,” Mama D said.
I moved the article around on the screen with my finger, looking for a publication date and the reporter’s name. “This was six years ago.”
“Yep. That was the last time the Kell murder was brought up.”
I looked at her. “It sounds like you don’t want that murder solved any more than you want these people here poking around in our business.”
“Of course I’d like to see Brenda Kell’s murder solved. We all would. But not with the world watching.”
“Granny, the news cycle is so fast these days. What’s popular right now will be old in less than twenty-four hours. Even if we solved the psychic’s murder today, by tomorrow, it’ll be on page six.”
She searched my face with her intense stare. I loved my granny. More than my own life. She’d been the rock for all of us when our parents died. But she also scared the bejesus out of me. Like right now. It wasn’t that she was scary or said something bad…it was a feeling I got from her when she spoke. “It’s not the world at large we fear, Ginger. And you’ll learn this as you grow. It’s the small, unnoticed Hunter in the crowd. The quiet, calculating one that doesn’t believe you or I—or especially David—have the right to live, and believes it is their duty, whether religious or self-serving, to destroy our lives, or end them. Those are the ones we look for in the sea of faces, Ginger.”
And with that, she left the kitchen.
I put my coffee down, the taste turning rancid on my tongue as her words worked their way into my still-waking brain. She was telling me something. Something important.
Something she wanted me to figure out on my own.
I wasn’t sure where to start, really. It was early still, and I knew Cass wouldn’t be at the library until it opened at ten. I had no idea how to contact Beverly Norris. Was there an actual office for the Historical Society? Did she have another job?
So with Max and the little book in tow, I drove to Mavis’s bakery. Magpies & Muffins was busy as usual with its morning crowd. Max draped himself over my shoulders and nestled into my hair. Some customers saw him there; others didn’t. The girl behind the counter did, because she blinked, smiled and asked, “What’s her name?”
“His name is Max,” I said. I ordered a coffee and a bear claw. I had a real weakness for bear claws.
When she handed me my bag with my goody, and my coffee, she also handed me a smaller container. “That’s cream, for Max.”
“Thanks—uh, can I get some ice cubes too? To cool off the coffee?”
She scooped up some ice in a small paper cup and handed it to me.
With a thank you, I turned and spotted Sheriff Danvers seated at the far left table, under the community corkboard. He was watching me and did this combination wince/smile when our eyes met. Reluctantly, he nodded at me. I could sit with him.
At first Danvers couldn’t see Max, but lately I’d noticed him actually looking at the space where Max was, like right now. I was pretty sure he could hear Max on occasion too. But Danvers had lived in Castle Falls all his life and understood the rather odd nature of over half her denizens. So he didn’t question when I opened up the cup of cream, poured a good bit of my coffee into it, then dumped a few ice cubs into that. I placed it in front of an empty chair and Max climbed down, sat in the chair, propped himself up on his back feet and proceeded to slurp the coffee-flavored creamer.
“Oh man, that’s good,” he said with a creamer mustache on his black fur.
“Well, that is the damndest thing I’ve ever seen or heard,” Danvers said.
I also noticed he’d looked around to see if anyone else could see Max and what he was doing. If they did, they didn’t make a big deal out of it.
“Have you been home?” I asked as I pulled out my bear claw. A glance at Danvers’ empty plate and its sprinkling of almond slivers told me he’d also enjoyed this tastiest of treats.
“I took a shower. Haven’t slept yet.”
“I thought you looked a bit frazzled. Something else happen? Get anywhere with the Ghost Watchers?” I bit into the pastry and tried really hard not to moan.
“David tell you about what we found out about the victim?”
“Yeah, he did. But who’s her family here? I don’t remember any Corvises here.”
“Neither do I. But her records all say place of birth Castle Falls, South Carolina. I got Perrin looking in on that. He’s the one that uncovered all the other stuff.”
“He’d make a great detective,” I said around my pastry. I sipped some coffee. Hot! “That is, if Castle Falls had a detective.”
“We used to have a detective on payroll—” Danvers sat back and rubbed at the back of his neck. He wasn’t a small man, but he wasn’t big either. He didn’t look like the stereotypical small-town sheriff. He was tall and thin, not short and wide, but he was graying and was growing a mustache, which was looking grayer than the silver tinting his hair. “But that was back—fifteen years ago. Might have been twenty.”
“What happened? He retire?”
“No. He died.” Danvers sipped at his own coffee. “After that, his family packed up and moved north. Never bothered hiring another one. Can’t remember his name right off, but it’ll come to me when I’m not looking for it.” He leaned forward on his elbows as Max slurped his breakfast. I wondered if I’d put too much coffee in that creamer. I really didn’t want a wired familiar. “I do need to talk to you about Phillip Boscawen, though.”
“Danvers,” I said, grabbed a napkin and chewed behind it. Why was it people always asked questions when you put something in your mouth? “I told you…we had a brief relationship over a year ago.”
“Yeah. But how well did you know him?”
I shrugged. “As well as I wanted to.” And then I looked at his face. “What?”
“Phil Boscawen has a record. Two arrests for breaking and entering in Los Angeles. These happened about five years ago, nothing since.”
“He do time?”
“Nope.” Danvers looked irritated. “Both times, the charges were dropped and he walked away. He’s also got a reputation for being hard to work with. He’s verbally abusive and he likes to throw things.”
“You get that from his coworkers?”
“Yeah, but apparently it’s on the internet as well. Google can bring up some interesting things. But Miss Van Wesson and Mr. Anderson agreed he’s a bit of a prima donna. Did you know the show Ghost Watchers originally didn’t have a psychic?”
“No. But I never watch it.”
“Yep.” He nodded. “They didn’t bring one in till mid-season. It was recommended by the producers because Boscawen’s predictions—you know he claims to be a medium—were always wrong. Ever since then, he’s argued and chased away five psychics. Bullied them off the set. Until Miss Corvis showed up, and apparently he couldn’t bully her.”
I liked this psychic even more now. “I never saw that part of him,” I said, and used my napkin to wipe my mouth. “But then, I never shared my family’s…unique abilities with him. He doesn’t know about the whole…witch thing.”
“And he doesn’t believe in them, apparently. All he seems to be focused on is getting rid of psychics on the show. Apparently he’s gone to the producers three times to have Miss Corvis fired. But the
public likes her and he was refused.”
I sat back and noticed Max was asleep, curled up in the chair. I smiled at him and looked at Danvers. “That doesn’t mean he killed her.”
“No, but it gives him a pseudo-motive.”
“Pseudo won’t hold up in court,” I said.
“Anderson said Miss Corvis was the one who wanted to do this house. In fact, when she suggested it, Phil Boscawen immediately said no. Refused to go near it. Said it wasn’t up to par for his show. But the producers loved the idea, so here they are.”
“And Melody wasn’t the one who called them?” I looked around and spotted Mavis behind the counter. She was looking at us and frowning.
“That’s my point. I got two stories here. One where Corvis wanted to come here, and one where Melody said she called the show and asked if they’d be interested in an historic haunted house in South Carolina, which, given their show history, seems a perfect choice. Miss Van Wesson said Phil pitched the idea to her, and Anderson said he’d heard about the pitch and was told by someone else that Corvis had been in touch with Melody Blackstone and then she contacted them.”
“Huh,” I said. “I got Melody’s story.”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter. Either way, they’re here and Corvis is dead. The common story is that Boscawen and she fought before your dinner yesterday, and he stormed out. Boscawen told you Corvis called him because she said she wanted to talk to him.”
I knew they’d been listening in on mine and Phil’s conversation in the parlor last night. I started to ask Danvers about the Kell murder, but the look on his face scared me. He was watching something past me, so I turned and saw Mavis Mulroney on her way to our table. She was about to sit down on Max, so I shooed him away before he was squished to death.
Mavis looked at me, then at Danvers. “So, is it true?”
“Is what true?” I asked.
“Those Ghost Watchers are going to have a seance at the Delaney House. Everyone’s talking about it this morning. I’ve even heard they’re going to sell tickets!”
Uh oh.
NINE
“Who said that?” I blurted out.
“That Van Wesson woman. The one from last night? Blonde? She was by earlier and told everybody in the shop that there was going to be a seance at the Delaney place.”
Danvers put his hand on his face. “This is getting out of control.”
“I’ll say.” I put all the trash in my bag and crumpled it up. “I need to see my sister.”
“Please do,” Danvers said. “And tell her to stop leaving me messages about the Kell murder.”
I mentally snapped my fingers. “Wait, I was going to ask you about that too.”
“Look, I don’t know anything about it, okay? It happened way before my time. I pulled the file; it was empty. And the sheriff who worked on it before me died two years ago. There’s nothing there.”
“What about Brenda Kell’s family?” I asked.
“I have no idea. If they were contacted, it would be in the file.”
“Her husband’s family?” Mavis said.
“Again, if they were contacted, then it would be in the file, but the file’s—”
“Missing.” I pursed my lips. “Actually, the file’s there. It’s just the stuff in it.”
“Yes.”
“So…if you wanted the stuff in the file to go away, like if you wanted the entire investigation to disappear, why leave the file? That’s just a huge look at me.”
Danvers frowned. “That’s a good point.”
“I kind of remember a little about it, Ginger,” Mavis said. “Brenda Kell was an heiress. She had the money, which is how they were able to buy the Delaney House. Sent the society a huge cash down-payment on it.”
“And because they’re dead, the house went back to the society?” I made a face.
“Seems kind of odd, doesn’t it?” Danvers grabbed his hat, which had been resting in the fourth seat to his right. “But I do know for a fact that the Historical Society did not keep the money.” He pushed his seat out, grabbed the paper bag I’d put the trash in and stood. “It was delicious, Mavis. As always. Ginger, can I have a word with you outside?”
Oh? I stood as well and smiled at Mavis before looking around for Max. He wasn’t in the store anymore, and a cursory “touch” with our familiar link told me he’d snuck back into the car. I was going to have to watch him do that one day, and see how he was getting through doors with no opposable thumbs.
Once outside, Danvers motioned me to get into his squad car. I did, in the passenger side, and was instantly aware of the shotgun mounted beside the laptop. “I got a call this morning from the mayor, who was woken up by Patrick Delaney.”
My jaw dropped. “The bank owner? Wait…Delaney…the same Delaney as the house?”
“Yeah. Distant relative.”
“What did he want?”
“He wanted to express his concerns about this Ghost Watchers show. Patrick Delaney, like a lot of the merchants here, is aware of the…uh, the…”
“Supernatural element?”
Danvers blanched. “That. In fact, most of the merchant and founding families are all a little…different. He’s worried this will bring undue attention on the town.”
I sighed. “David said as much when I saw him this morning. So did Mama D.”
“And they’re right. Look, I want to solve this woman’s murder, but we can’t do it if they’re here running around and drawing attention to the house and its history, not to mention the town’s history.”
I felt Max listening in as Danvers said, “So in a nutshell, he wants the mayor to shut the publicity down.”
“So a banker could wield that kind of control.” I held up a hand. “I’m not saying I like it any more than anyone else, but for a banker to call the shots to the mayor?”
“The Delaneys own most of this town, and their money has funded a lot of the town’s structure. The falls themselves generate enough revenue to keep the economy going. The falls don’t bring in the kind of attention this show will bring. And having a seance is out of the question. So I need you to do something for me.”
“You want me to make sure Melody doesn’t do a seance.”
“Yeah. If you don’t mind? I’m afraid if she keeps up with it, some of the darker elements in town might take exception to it.”
“And do what?” That remark alarmed me. “Hurt her?”
“Not necessarily her. But they could shut down her business. And, of course, since she’s Mama D’s granddaughter, Melody’s actions could also affect Mama D. And the last thing I want is for someone to make Mama D angry. Capiche?”
“Yeah…I got it.” I took in a deep breath and exhaled. “I’ll go see her right now and see what’s going on. As sheriff, you can keep them out of the Delaney House, so they can’t have any televised seances there.”
“It’s already locked up and under guard.”
“You have enough officers for that?”
Danvers gave me a sideways smile. “Let’s just say Deputy Perrin’s family jumped at the opportunity to hunt in those woods.”
I got his meaning and quickly got out of his car. Once in mine, Max and I talked about what was said on our way to Melody’s store. Max was of the opinion that yeah, the idea of publicity in this town was not a good one, but as he put it, “The town, it doth protest too much.”
I had to agree. I’d had four people in less than twenty-four hours tell me how bad publicity would be in this town. But seriously? We had a five-star hotel and bed and breakfast beside a beautiful lake near a gorgeous waterfall. We attracted tourists year round. There just seemed to be something else at stake here. I loved my sister, but I didn’t think she was purposefully trying to tank the city. Knowing Melody, she was caught in the moment and needed to be redirected.
And I was the one to do it.
My phone rang on the way to Melody’s. It was David. “Hey,” I answered. “What’re you wearing?”
He laughed. “Scrubs and nothing else. But I can come over tonight in just my booties.”
“Ooh, Dr. Flanagan, you are awesome.”
“Not as awesome as you, witchie-poo. What’re you up to?”
I gave him a rundown on my conversation with Danvers. And David agreed, just as he had in the early hours of the morning, that the Ghost Watchers could be a threat. But he was also curious about something else.
“So, how connected is this Patrick Delaney? I mean, so much so he can pull the mayor’s strings?”
“He owns half the town,” I said as I maneuvered through traffic. Yes, there was traffic in this small town. Fall was a huge tourist season, and with Halloween on the way, die-hard fans of the Delaney House were already pouring in for the opening—which, I hated to say, might not happen this year. “Why?”
“Not sure. My vampy sense is tingling.”
I laughed. “You sure that’s not your animal intuition?”
“Could be both. Okay, gotta get back to work. I’ll call you when I leave and see where you are.” He made a kiss noise and hung up.
Mushy? Yeah. But I loved the way he made me feel inside. Which was going to help while I faced my sister and told her that her big idea to help was turning into a disaster.
TEN
Melody’s store was called Past & Future Antiques. It was a converted house sitting on the main street of Castle Falls. Prime location. The upstairs had been turned into an apartment for Melody, but apparently she preferred one of the rooms downstairs, specifically one of the ones walled off for otherworldly consultations. I’d been in the room, and it looked like one of the sets for Fleetwood Mac’s “Gypsy” video. I didn’t know if she was still sleeping in that room. I wouldn’t blame her, though, since her business partner Carmine Kyle had been killed upstairs. Mama D and I had cleansed it with sage, but it still creeped me out too.
The Cat Jumped Over the Moon Page 7