by Krista Davis
“And bring Ben?” I teased. “Thanks, but I thought I’d go out with some of the ghost hunters. I just came by because I feel so guilty for not helping out more here today.”
“No? I didn’t notice. Some days are like that. Other days will be so crazy busy you might regret your decision to move here. You have fun with the young people tonight, liebling. It will do you good. I will see you later at the cemetery?”
“Absolutely.”
I left thinking I would make up for it tomorrow. It bothered me not to pull my weight. Still, I had only been here a few days—and what bizarre days they had been. Before long I would be in a boring routine, taking over so Oma could have some much-deserved time off.
I took a few minutes to freshen up in my digs. I filled two bowls with cat food, in case Twinkletoes brought Mrs. Mewer home for dinner. I changed into a belted plaid skirt and a scoop-necked top in ivy. After running a brush through my hair, I pulled on boots and a suede jacket, then wrapped a long scarf around my neck. I grabbed my purse and Trixie’s leash, and we were off.
Ben and the ghost hunters were still clustered where I’d left them. Casper nuzzled Trixie, glad to have canine company again.
“He’s still questioning Eva?” I asked.
“Can you believe it?” Mark swallowed hard. His jaw muscles tensed.
The door opened, and Dave walked toward us. “Holly, could I speak with you?”
Eva emerged, looking none the worse for the interrogation. Under her breath Eva muttered, “I need a drink.”
“You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up,” I said.
“We’ll be at the barbecue place,” said Felix.
Grayson ushered the group out.
Dave and I sat down on the window seat in the library.
He ran both his hands up his forehead and sighed. “Everyone had the opportunity and no one has an alibi. Did Eva say anything to you about a weird light in her room?”
“As a matter of fact, she did.”
“I don’t know what to make of that. She says she doesn’t believe in ghosts, but then she tells me this crazy story about a light in her room. Doesn’t that seem contradictory to you?”
“Not really. Sometime we see reflections of something. The day they checked in, an orb floated across the registration area. It had to be a reflection of some kind. I saw it myself. That doesn’t mean I thought it was a ghost. It’s her job to figure out stuff like that and prove it wasn’t a spirit. It probably bothers her that she can’t explain it.”
Dave nodded. “Catch up to them and see what you can find out. One of them has to know something.”
“What about Brian? He was outside that night too, or he wouldn’t have seen her.”
“Says he went for a walk. He could easily have killed Mallory. Know of any reason he would want to?”
“He said something about asking her out. I gather she turned him down and he was offended. It sounds like all of them, except Felix, knew her one way or another.”
Dave stood up. “More than one person has a motive.”
“Who? Who has motives?”
“I can’t tell you everything, you know. Besides, I’m not sure. See what you can dig up.”
“Rose and Oma chewed me out for asking questions that implied Doc is wrong and Mallory was murdered.”
Dave’s lips bunched up in anger. “I find it painfully ironic that Doc says I’m not letting him do his job but he cannot see that I have to do my job. The old guy made a judgment call and now he feels like he has to prove that he’s right. He keeps telling me there’s no evidence of an altercation. The way I see things, it’s his job to determine the cause of death. It’s my job to find the evidence. I hope that Doc doesn’t try to interfere, because I’m not a little kid anymore. I have as much clout around here as he does. Maybe more.”
We left the inn together, but Dave kept going when we reached Hot Hog. The entire group had gathered at a table with Mr. Luciano and the last person on Earth I ever expected to see there—Aunt Birdie.
She flushed like a young girl on a first date, raised one hand, and curled her fingers at me in a wave. Mr. Luciano appeared to be in his element. I said a silent little prayer that he would amuse Aunt Birdie and keep her away from me.
I gratefully accepted a chair near the opposite end of the long table, as far away from Birdie as possible, next to Ben and across from Mark and Eva.
No sooner had I been seated than Holmes arrived with a group of locals who had been working at the cemetery. It took him exactly one minute to say, “Mind if we join you?” He shoved another table up to the end of ours and took the seat beside me. Introductions flew around the table.
“Hey, Donna,” he called to the waitress. “Barbecued shrimp and corn bread for the whole table?”
It was as though his mere presence transformed an ordinary dinner into a party. Beer mugs clinked against wineglasses in toasts. Not a single person around the table wasn’t smiling or laughing. We shared the tangy shrimp and nibbled on warm corn bread with fresh country butter.
And I was stuck between my dream man, who had his arm slung around the back of my chair, and my former boyfriend. Oh, joy.
No one else seemed to notice. I decided Oma was right. I was too stiff and concerned about these things. I should relax and laugh and chatter with everyone else.
To my complete shock, Birdie regaled everyone with stories of Wagtail in the 1800s. “The interesting thing about Obadiah is that he really did cure snake bites. Probably not all of them—but the original snake oil salesmen sold tea tree oil or Chinese water snake oil, which really did have an effect on snakebites. It didn’t take long for unscrupulous people to bottle any old thing and sell it as snake oil, and that’s how snake oil salesmen got a bad name.”
Platters of ribs, glistening with a deep ruby sauce, arrived, along with pulled pork, French fries, lightly charred grilled ears of corn, and little white ramekins that nearly overflowed with creamy coleslaw. The lively banter subsided as we dug in.
I did notice that Aunt Birdie skipped all the luscious, messy, sauced foods and primly ate her chicken breast with a knife and fork while the rest of us used our fingers.
Trixie, Casper, and Mr. Luciano’s bulldog, Gina, ate the Nothing But a Hound Dog Special, which appeared to be pulled pork with kale, corn bread, and a few French fries as a garnish. They ate somewhat faster than we did.
We were too stuffed to order dessert, which worked out well, because it was time to head for the cemetery. “Dessert afterward,” we declared.
During the walk across town, Eva sidled up to me. “I like Ben. He’s a nice guy. He says you almost married him.”
I wish I could have been more ladylike, but that caught me by surprise, and I snorted. “Did he mention that he texted me a six-letter proposal?”
Eva laughed. A hearty, warm, life-affirming laugh. “Oh no! Six letters?”
“marE me? It took me a few minutes to sound it out and realize it was a proposal.”
“These geeky guys are just clueless. I love them to death, but they don’t understand romance at all.”
“Like Mark?”
She turned her head and pulled away to look at me. “Mark? Why would you say that?”
“No? I thought I was picking up on something between the two of you.”
For a moment I thought I saw fear flash across her face. She recovered quickly. “Hah! What about you and that Holmes fellow? My goodness, but he looked like he was staking out a claim.”
“No such luck. Holmes is engaged. We probably just seem comfortable together because we’ve known each other since we were kids.” I tried to bring the subject to Mallory. “So most of the guys knew Mallory?”
“I guess so. Not Felix, though. I’m no shrink but I always thought Mallory’s interest in Mark stemmed from her need to find a place where she belonged after
losing her family. I wouldn’t have coped with that well as a teenager, or even now. It must have shattered her.”
“You mean because Mark is wealthy?”
“No. Look at them. Grayson is pretty, definitely eye candy, but he’s a follower, not a leader. Felix is adorable, but he’s a little shy and goofy. Brian is just a kid in a grown-up’s body. Poor judgment, never thinks things through. Mark is the only one of them who is solid and dependable, takes action. He’s the security that she lost when her family died. I’ve always thought she gravitated toward ghost hunters out of a need to believe that her family lived on somewhere else.”
“Who could blame her for that? I’m like you. I would have been a basket case.”
It dawned on me that Eva might be ready to spill some dirt about Brian now that he had reported her to the police. As casually as I could muster, I asked, “Did you see Brian outside on the night of Mallory’s murder?”
Twenty-three
Eva shook her head. “I didn’t see anyone. I went outside to look for the source of the strange light in my room. Now I wish I had seen someone, because then I’d have an alibi!”
I glanced ahead to be sure Brian wasn’t in earshot and dared to come right to the point. “Do you know of any reason Brian might have disliked Mallory?”
Her head snapped toward me again, her eyes wide. “You think he killed Mallory?”
I shrugged. “He was outside in the middle of the night by his own admission.”
Eva appeared to think for a moment. “Brian isn’t the brightest guy in the world. That’s why I’m often able to see through his tricks. If he killed Eva, I rather suspect he would have taken the easiest route and simply lied about being out at night at all. It would have been more like him to claim he was asleep in his room.”
It was a well-considered response. Academic, not phony. “Unless,” I said, “Brian thought someone caught him. Like you?”
“I see your point. I’m not sure he’s that clever. Though that little drama earlier today leads me to believe he might be quick to anger.”
“He claims that was staged for the show. Do you think Mallory upset him that night?”
“Who knows what goes through his boorish brain? She certainly made a production of her interest in Felix.” Eva lowered her voice. “You know that he walked her home, right?”
“So I’ve heard.” I still had trouble imagining that Felix could kill anyone.
We paused before crossing the street to the cemetery. Costumed children, adults, and dogs milled about the church parking lot. While I couldn’t see any electric lights, beams behind fog machines created mists worthy of horror movies. Candles and lanterns flickered in the dark.
Holmes and crew had set up carved pumpkins along a broad path. They glowed with scary faces, sinister grins, polka dots, and some truly artistic depictions of witches and ghosts.
In the background, ghoulish moans and witchy cackles were interrupted by clanking chains. I hoped the very small children wouldn’t have nightmares.
Scary guides with lanterns waited to take small groups of visitors into the foggy cemetery. One of Clementine’s triplets ran screaming from a scraggly zombie in torn clothing.
I found the frighteningly pale gentleman in a ruffled shirt, formal coat, and top hat more intimidating. A woman in a simple country dress with a white apron might have been reassuring but for her white makeup and the dark circles around her eyes.
Clementine’s boys were fascinated by the guide with an arrow through his head. They readily accompanied him, along with Mr. Huckle, Clementine, and her daughter, who carried the ever-present stuffed dog. Inside the graveyard, white mists floated across the aging headstones.
“Oh, look!” Eva prodded me gently. “They’ve set up the Ouija board. This could be good.”
“A fun show, you mean?”
“Kind of. I’ll explain when it happens.”
“A trick?”
“Not exactly. I’m going in on the tour. Want to come?”
“I’ll wait. You go ahead.” I watched as she hurried over to join a group. Surely it wasn’t a coincidence that she was in a rush to join Mark’s group.
Right behind her, my own staid Aunt Birdie willingly joined a tour group with Mr. Luciano by her side. Unbelievable! She had a spark of fun in her after all.
Lillian carried GloryB and chatted with Grayson and Mark while they waited to begin.
It seemed like the whole town and all the tourists had turned out. A dog howled somewhere in the distance, setting off all the other dogs, including Trixie. Their melancholy group howl sent shivers down my spine.
One tour guide seemed very familiar. She wore a red tulle skirt and a hooded cape. Red fabric lined the hood. I stared at her. It wasn’t until she flashed her fangs at Felix and Brian that I recognized Zelda.
Laughing, I joined their group for the tour of the cemetery. Zelda regaled us with a mixture of spooky tales and lovely tributes to people who had lived in Wagtail.
The group ahead of us shrieked in horror. Zelda cautioned us and walked forward, swinging her lantern.
The light caught a coffin in the mist. Zelda had launched into the story of Hiram and Obadiah when we heard a creaking sound. The coffin opened with a slow screech to reveal a skeleton inside. Even Brian yelped and jumped back.
It was all in good fun, and before we knew it, we were back in the parking lot. Felix and Brian led the way to the card table that had been set up with a Ouija board. Five chairs circled it. Eva was taking a seat. Mark, Felix, Brian, and Grayson slid into the other chairs.
Rose whistled like a sailor. “Quiet, please! The tours will continue after this presentation.”
The crowd hushed and clustered around.
“And now,” said Rose, “we will try to bring back the spirit of Dr. Hiram Montacue through the use of the time-honored Ouija board.”
Like magic, an eerie orange glow illuminated the table and the participants.
Ben ambled up next to me to watch.
In a singsong voice, Brian called out, “Mallory! Mallory! Tell us who murdered you!”
Mark slammed his open palm over the moving pointer. “I told you we’re not going to disrespect Mallory that way.”
Brian snickered at him. “What’s wrong? Afraid she’ll appear and tell the truth, Mark?”
Mark’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Everyone agreed that it would be wrong to take advantage of her death by trying to contact her. What’s wrong with you?”
Brian seemed chastened like a little boy.
Mark called out, “Hiram Montacue! Hiram Montacue! We invite you to join us in our celebration tonight. Are you here?”
Ten hands were poised over the Ouija board.
Four of the tour guides held lanterns and kept the crowd from closing in on the table.
The pointer moved slowly to yes. I heard a few gasps and saw some people looking up in the air as though they thought they would see Hiram hovering over us.
“Hiram, did you murder Obadiah Bagley?” intoned Mark.
They had placed the pointer back in the middle of the board, but once again, it moved to yes.
“Is Obadiah here with you?”
Another yes.
“Send us a sign of your presence, Obadiah!”
The participants placed their fingers lightly on the edge of the table. For what seemed an eternity, nothing happened at all.
There was some mumbling in the crowd.
And suddenly, the table lifted at an angle. Aunt Birdie screamed, along with some of the onlookers. The table wobbled slightly and fell back into place.
“How did they do that?” I whispered to Ben.
“Must be a trick of some sort.”
The crowd fell silent in anticipation.
Mark spoke gently to Aunt Birdie. “Try not to scream this time, okay
? It breaks our concentration.”
Birdie flashed him an irritated look that I knew all too well. She didn’t like being corrected.
Mark sang out again. “Becca Wraith, we feel for you. Send us a sign of your presence.”
Once again, the participants poised their fingertips near the edges of the table. We waited in silence.
Just when I thought nothing would happen, the table lifted off the ground and moved so much that the participants had to stand up. The crowd shifted back to make room for them.
Murmuring arose and the table fell to the ground.
The crowd broke into applause. The ghost hunters staggered over to Trixie and me.
“That was exhausting.” Felix rubbed his forehead. “I’ve never done that before.”
Mark laughed, a bit giddy. “I’m just glad it worked. I wasn’t sure it would.”
“C’mon,” said Ben. “There had to be a trick.”
We were in the middle of the parking lot. There was nothing to which they could have tied strings.
I noted that I wasn’t the only skeptic. Several people had turned the table over to examine the bottom. I heard one of them say, “That’s impossible. There’s not a thing here. It’s just an ordinary card table like I have at home.”
“Okay, Eva. How did you do that?” I asked.
“It’s known as the Philip Experiment. A bunch of Canadian parapsychologists invented a character who never existed. They tried to reach him, which clearly couldn’t happen since he was a figment of their imaginations. Yet to their surprise, the table where they gathered did exactly what you saw tonight. The general belief is that it’s some kind of mind over matter thing. That the collective concentration of the group is able to make the table levitate.”
Grayson nodded. “I wasn’t sure it would work for us, but we were willing to give it a try.”