“I appreciate your willingness to—”
A piercing scream broke off Izzy’s reply, causing Izzy to startle and me to immediately leave the library to find out the cause.
Your fight or flight response is quite admirable, Miss Lilura.
Pearl was keeping up with my light jog in her concealed state, although Izzy had fallen behind with those heels of hers. I practically skidded to a stop when I saw Gertrude staring up at the staircase in horror while Joshua stood behind her. The pallor of their faces was that of chalk.
It’s as if they’ve seen a ghost, dear hexed one.
Piper must have been in the kitchen with Wilbur, because both of them appeared together from that general direction. As for Faye, the loud shriek had succeeded in waking the woman up from her afternoon nap. I could hear her calling out to us from her balcony above.
“What on earth is happening down there?”
Gertrude didn’t respond to Faye. She seemed incapable of talking, and she ever so slowly lifted her right arm to point a shaking finger at the same exact spot that I’d seen Florence pushed from the landing. Joshua actually took a step back, almost as if he were considering his most likely avenues of escape.
My opinion of Mr. Joshua continues to remain rather low.
“What is it?” I asked, having looked up at the landing to find nothing amiss but Faye carefully making her way down the staircase, exchanging handholds on the wooden railings as she descended at top speed. “Gertrude, what did you see?”
“A ghost, Miss Lilura,” Gertrude whispered in fright, grabbing onto Wilbur’s hand when he came to stand next to her. “The ghost of Ophelia Rosalyn Ashton.”
I don’t always like to be right, Miss Lilura. It’s a curse, really. Oh, dear heavens! Did that slip out in my utter astonishment? I do so apologize for my lack of decorum, dear hexed one. On the bright side, the Ashton family will no longer be able to deny they have an entity roaming the halls of their family estate. My sweet Piper, now would be a good time to utilize that app of yours to catalog their apparent responses to the latest developments.
Chapter Seven
The silence became rather heavy in the great room as evening began to set in. We were all currently seated around the massive hearth, certainly one even more grand than the one in the library. Piper was utilizing this time to our advantage, poring over the journals I’d retrieved from the top bookshelf. Everyone else had strategically taken a seat in a way that they could keep their attention on us, as if we were to blame for the spirit haunting their home.
Well, since you were the one to bring up the subject…our presence could very likely be the motive for Ms. Ophelia to show herself to the others. The woman is clearly trying to tell us something, and spirits do thrive on negative energy. We may have just provided Ophelia with enough of a current to make herself visible whenever she pleases.
I agreed that Ophelia had a message for those who remained inside the manor. Most poltergeists were envious of the living, and everyone’s lives were in danger the longer they stayed under this roof.
I don’t believe that Ophelia was using our energy to materialize in front of the others, especially considering that Florence had told many people she’d heard Ophelia’s cries in the middle of the night. If Ophelia was responsible for Florence’s death, it was safe to say that the spirit had enough strength on her own without the need to use us as a catalyst.
It is quite possible that whoever was using room thirteen to dabble in voodoo might have inadvertently harnessed enough negative energy for the ghost of Ms. Ophelia to do his or her bidding. So many questions, so little answers.
“It was very sweet of Gertrude and Wilbur to cook dinner for us tonight,” I said, causing Izzy to startle a bit while Faye slid a bored look my way. Joshua was standing next to the hearth with a drink in his hand, staring into the flames with such concentration it made me wonder if he was trying to burn the image of Ophelia out of his mind. “I realize that the majority of the staff was given the week off in the wake of Ms. Ashton’s death. I’m sure Gertrude and Wilbur didn’t count on serving guests during this time of grief.”
From the look on their faces, I don’t believe that Ms. Gertrude and Mr. Wilbur have ever truly encountered a spirit while working for the Ashtons. That puts both of them back at the bottom of our list. Of course, that’s based on a currently unproven assumption that the culprit conjured Ms. Ophelia’s help to commit the murder.
Piper had been busy jotting notes down in that app of hers while discovering interesting facts within the journals. After Pearl’s opinion on the married couple, Piper casually pressed a finger to her phone and drew it downward, most assuredly moving the suspect list around.
In case you were wondering, Ms. Faye is at the top of the list. According to Piper’s constantly evolving notes, the motive is money and revenge. Piper finally got around to opening Orwin’s email. Apparently, Ms. Faye had originally been left out of their parents’ will, with the exception of her somewhat generous trust fund. It appears that Ms. Florence was the one to solely inherit the estate so many years ago. That creates a motive for murder.
The only way for Faye to regain control of the estate was if her sister saw fit to put her accession in her will.
“Is it true?” Joshua asked with seriousness, losing me with his random inquiry. He’d shifted on his dress shoes, still adorned in a dark suit. The phone that was usually glued to his ear had been slid into the inner pocket of his jacket. I was looking out the front window toward the drive, waiting for Orwin and Knox to arrive. “Are you and your team here at the request of my mother before she died?”
Oh, the lies we weave to get to the truth. Such a misnomer, no?
I’d never gotten a chance to speak with Piper regarding her conversations with the Ashtons, but Pearl had filled me in on a major point. Piper had gone with the fabrication of Florence reaching out to us upon hearing about our inquiries sent to other estates about the premise for our documentary, and that we were simply here to prove or disprove her theory about Ophelia.
“It’s not as simple as that, Mr. Ashton,” I replied carefully, not wanting to blow our cover by saying something directly opposite of Piper. “It’s true that we were researching family estates in the area where hauntings were said to have occurred, and we did speak with your mother. Ms. Ashton confirmed there were unusual sightings and sounds, and we took her up on the invitation to stay here at the manor. Piper and I have yet to see any signs of a supernatural spirit for ourselves. What exactly did you and Ms. Gertrude see on the landing of the staircase, Mr. Ashton?”
Very well done, dear hexed one. Now the ball is in Mr. Ashton’s court, should he choose to play.
Piper was frowning over one of the journals, and it didn’t take me long to recognize it as the one that belonged to Eugene. Something of interest was in his diary, and I was hopeful it would help us figure out why Ophelia remained behind instead of crossing over to the afterlife to join him.
“I…I don’t know what I saw,” Joshua said rather briskly, turning back to set his gaze on the flickering flames. “It could have easily been a trick of the light. The chandelier alone can cast an array of colorful illuminations.”
“What if Mother was right about this place?” Izzy asked, directing her guarded inquiry to Faye and Joshua. The sudden shift in conversation had Piper finally looking up from the journal. “What if Ophelia is trapped here? What if she’s been the one—”
“That’s enough,” Faye snapped, interrupting whatever it was that Izzy had been about to reveal. “This manor is not haunted. I forbid it, and I will not listen to another word of such blasphemy.”
“Mom said strange things have been happening here at odd hours,” Izzy revealed, casting an accusing glare her aunt’s way. “Are you telling us you didn’t notice anything? No strange sounds? You didn’t see anything unusual in all this time?”
Faye pursed her lips in frustration, clearly having no intention of answering her niece’
s inquiry. It did make me suspect that maybe she was the one who’d placed the voodoo doll in room thirteen, but I had a hard time believing that she’d ever consort with any type of magic.
Greed has a way of causing an individual to make some foolish choices.
Humans had no idea the damage they could produce when experimenting in something they didn’t quite believe was real, yet still sought its power.
“Izzy, did you ever consider that maybe our dear aunt was the one responsible for Mom’s erratic behavior toward the end?” Joshua had not only dug in the knife, but he was twisting the blade. “What if she set this entire thing in motion in order to cause this mess?”
“I did no such thing!” Faye protested, laying a hand over her heart in mortification. “I loved my sister. We’d mended our relationship over these past six months, but you wouldn’t know that, would you? The two of you gallivant around with your overinflated trust funds, having no respect for the care that your mother put into this estate. You should be ashamed of yourselves!”
I’d forgotten what it was like to be in the middle of a family ruckus. They are quite entertaining, are they not? I do so remember Lord Carnarvon battling it out with his family over his obsession with Egyptian antiquities. Quite compelling arguments, I admit. It also cost him his life.
“You’re only saying that, Aunt Faye, because you wouldn’t be able to sell this place if word got out that the manor was haunted,” Joshua countered in anger, turning to face his aunt and sister. “I still don’t know how you managed to talk Mother into leaving you the entire estate. Did you use blackmail? Is that it or did you prey on her superstition?”
And now the truth unfolds itself…
“Stop it,” Izzy demanded, leaning forward and slamming her drink on the ornate coffee table. “It’s rude and quite unseemly to carry this conversation on amongst guests, and we only have Aunt Faye’s word that Mom recently changed her will. The reading of her last will and testament isn’t scheduled until Monday.”
Their collective motive is certainly drying in the cement, is it not?
“The two of you can go on home until such time. I will have you know that your mother finally came around to recognizing me as the rightful heir to the estate. As such, she did have the family lawyers change her will,” Faye admitted proudly, even tilting her chin in superiority. “Is it so hard to believe that your mother and I mended our relationship over these past few months?”
Piper is doing a very splendid job of keeping up with this conversation as she jots down notes in her app. I wonder, do you think this discussion will spit out the murderer when all is said and done? We’d be resorted to our position as minions simply gathering the facts of these mysteries. I’ve tried discussing this with the alien hunter, but he won’t see reason. Mark my words—technology will be the downfall of a reasoning humanity.
“You mean the six months you stayed here because you drained your trust fund and had to rely on the generosity of the estate to support you?” Joshua accused before downing the rest of his drink. I’m relatively certain it was bourbon, but then again, it might as well have been truth serum. I’d turned down his offer of a drink, needing to keep my faculties about me after Ophelia had shown herself to the others. Seeing him start to unravel told me I’d made the right decision. “Yes, Aunt Faye. We were perfectly aware of that little wrinkle. Unlike you, our mother didn’t keep secrets from us.”
“She did, though.” Izzy’s eyes filled with tears, and she took a deep breath to try and control her emotions. “Mother didn’t tell us about the will, and now Aunt Faye can do whatever she wants with the estate. What if it’s true?”
They’re learning that secrets have a way of destroying families. Such a hard lesson to learn, isn’t it? Quite sad, really.
“I’m not leaving,” Joshua exclaimed, defending his decision. He, too, slammed his empty glass on the fireplace mantle. “And neither are you, Izzy. We’re going to fight the will and claim that Mother was under duress. We’ll tie you up in court for decades, Aunt Faye. The first thing we’ll insist upon is a court-appointed forensic accountant to analyze the books and a conservator to control future disbursements.”
“You can try, dear,” Faye murmured, taking a sip of the wine she’d poured herself earlier. “You can certainly try.”
Piper and I had all but remained silent throughout the family fallout, for many reasons. Most importantly, this was a private matter that never should have been discussed in front of strangers. On the other hand, the motives from all three of these family members were being brought to light with every word of their argument.
I daresay that the results of my sweet Piper’s app are leaning more and more toward Ms. Faye.
I wasn’t too worried about any computer results at the moment, because I could clearly make out the headlights of an oncoming train. Wayward emotions, such as the ones running rampant in this manor, had a way of prompting not only accusations, but emotional outbursts. I figured it was only a matter of time before Joshua and Izzy came to the snap decision that their mother’s death wasn’t an accident, as it had been portrayed. They would be partially right, but had Faye been the one to cause Florence to fall down those stairs?
Recalling the premonition I’d endured two nights ago, I wasn’t so sure that was the case.
Dear hexed one, Mr. Joshua and Ms. Izzy would inadvertently be right if we discover that Ms. Faye was indeed the one to use a voodoo doll to conjure up the ghost of Ms. Ophelia to do her bidding.
The only way we’d ever know who utilized the voodoo doll for his or her own gain was if we spoke to the one entity who would have either witnessed the magic itself or been called forth to carry out the horrific deed. After all, casting a spell on a voodoo doll could technically backfire quite easily. The last thing I needed was more carnage in my life. So that currently left us only one route, unless Orwin was able to pick up the murderer’s thoughts. Easier said than done, if Ophelia’s spirit was indeed the true killer.
You’re not suggesting…
Pearl’s incredulity over my internal thoughts had Piper swinging her startled gaze toward me, but I’d already made my decision—we were going to have a séance.
Oh, dear!
Chapter Eight
“Well, that dinner didn’t go quite as expected,” I said to Piper wryly, having stepped outside after receiving a text from Orwin that he and Knox were about to pull up the long winding driveway of the estate. “It looks like we’re resorting to plan B.”
Our two colleagues had run into an accident on the highway that had them at a standstill for several hours. We’d already endured the evening meal, where Izzy had all but rushed to her room after Gertrude emphatically denied that the apparition she’d seen on the staircase landing had been a trick of the light reflecting off the chandelier.
Needless to say, Joshua and Faye had immediately gotten into another heated argument about the manor being haunted and how that may have contributed to his mother’s demise. Wilbur and Gertrude very openly announced their joint resignation after dessert was served. I wasn’t sure if their decision was due to what Gertrude had witnessed on the landing or if they couldn’t take any more of the Ashtons’ bickering over the ownership of the material wealth of the estate.
By the time the dishes were cleared and all was said and done, Joshua had retired to the great room for another tumbler full of whiskey while Faye was frantically calling some of the other staff members to see if they’d come back to the manor immediately.
I highly doubt that Ms. Faye will succeed in her endeavor, even if she manages to contact anyone.
“I’m not worried about making myself a bowl of cereal in the morning,” Piper replied in concern, rubbing her arms up and down as she began to walk beside me. I could already see the headlights of Knox’s Land Rover weaving through the weeping willows. “Do you really think carrying out a séance in a place that we know one hundred percent has at least one spirit roaming the hallways is a reasonable i
dea?”
Not without a spot of warm cream, my sweet Piper. I need to be relaxed before we take on such an undertaking. Seeing as the kitchen is now open to guests, I’m sure you’ll have no issues heating up a warm cup of sanity in the microwave for exactly twenty-one seconds.
“Not at all,” I replied honestly, having every intention of obtaining that saucer of warm cream for Pearl. We needed all hands on deck tonight. “But it’s a heck of a lot better than casting a spell on a voodoo doll that was possibly used to conjure a murderous spirit.”
I’m not sure I covered the difference between the different magics, but I’d like to go on record as saying that voodoo isn’t exactly bad nor dark in its nature. Not in the least, and I’ve known several witches over the years who practiced in the art that were better men and women than myself.
Any magic was capable of being used to do good or evil.
Very well stated, dear hexed one.
It’s the person casting such spells that steer the direction of what humans would refer to as karma. Consequences came when using magic for self-gain or to intentionally hurt someone else. Intent mattered.
You realize this could explain why Ammeline Letty Romilda is slowly going insane over the course of her immortality. I’ll have to discuss this talking point with Mr. Cornelia at length.
“I’m still hoping that Orwin will be able to walk into the manor, get a fix on everyone’s thoughts, and quietly let us know who killed Florence Isla Ashton,” Piper said optimistically, which wasn’t surprising.
Unfortunately, Orwin couldn’t read the minds of lost spirits. Especially if Ophelia had indeed committed the murder without any prompting by other family members.
Doubtful, Miss Lilura, given the voodoo doll currently located in room thirteen. Although, hearing you spout optimism is a nice change of pace.
The Squeaky Ghost Gets the Curse Page 7