The Diva Haunts the House

by Krista Davis

  Bernie chuckled. “The old guy has been opening the window every night to rid the room of the smell of smoke after he comes through.”

  We were safely back in Viktor Luca’s room in the haunted house, but we still kept our laughter and voices down. Before closing the door on Ray’s side, I kneeled to see if I could pull out the jewelry. It stuck under the wall just where the door hinged. Prying a little harder with the knife finally worked and a necklace flew across the tiny closet.

  We closed the door in a hurry, and I picked up the necklace—a silver-colored bat hung on the chain. Ruby eyes gleamed at us.

  “What a peculiar piece.” Bernie flipped it over and held it up to the light. “Isn’t this—”

  “It’s the necklace Viktor Luca was wearing in the picture June found. The one where he was posing next to my fireplace with his victim, Peggy Zane.”

  Humphrey frowned at me. “You mean that necklace has been stuck there for decades?”

  “Either that or Ray dropped it and couldn’t see where it went. Maybe someone came into the house and interrupted him and he didn’t have time to retrieve it.”

  Humphrey took the necklace from Bernie. “I’m inclined to believe the latter. It’s not tarnished.”

  “Someone, maybe Wong, said it was white gold. A vampire couldn’t wear silver,” I teased. “Is it marked?”

  Bernie chuckled at my joke, but Humphrey snorted with disdain. “Oh, yes. Viktor the vampire.” He pulled out reading glasses and peered at it. “The number 750 is stamped on the back.”

  “Eighteen karat. Someone must be very sorry he lost it.” According to June, Viktor left in a hurry. It wasn’t inconceivable that he might have dropped it in his haste to pack.

  “Someone? I think we can safely assume it was Ray.” Humphrey handed the white gold bat to me.

  Bernie studied the hidden door between the two buildings. “Is there any possibility that Viktor and Ray could be the same person?”

  Humphrey and I burst into laughter.

  “So he’s not the same dashing bloke that June remembers. He’s about the right age, isn’t he?” Bernie remained serious.

  “I have some trouble imagining that the rough-and-tumble Texan was a refined European gigolo adored by Old Town hostesses.” I slid the bat necklace into my pocket. It would have been safer around my neck, but the mere thought of wearing it creeped me out.

  “Bernie does have a point,” said Humphrey. “Some people are quite adept at reinventing themselves.” He paused for a moment. “What was that?”

  “Shh. Probably Ray.” I listened, hoping he would come through the hidden door, proving he knew about it.

  Even in the stillness, the slight rustling was barely audible. The low moan that followed came from behind us. We turned around slowly.

  There was only one option. The sounds had to be coming from the casket.

  My breath caught in my throat. Bernie recoiled and stared like he was momentarily paralyzed. Daisy barked and backed up.

  “It’s a trick,” said Humphrey. “It has to be.”

  Bernie looked from the casket to the hidden door and back. “Do you think Ray installed some kind of moaning gadget to scare the kids? A tape that he can set off with a remote control?”

  When the next moan arose, an ear-splitting scream followed it. Natasha stood in the doorway. “Viktor! I told you I saw someone in there. It’s Viktor!”

  Footsteps slammed against the old stairs, and Natasha shrieked again.

  “Aunt Sophie? Are you here?”

  “Jen?”

  Jen arrived on the landing first. “We wanted to show Mrs. Ferguson . . .”

  She stopped talking when the moaning inside the casket began again. Vegas screamed and Jen ran to me.

  Bernie leaned over to open the lid.

  “No!” Vegas ran into the bedroom and seized his hands. “Viktor is in there. Don’t unleash him!”

  “Hello? Is someone there? Let me out!”

  We all took a step back at the sound of the muffled voice. Daisy barked and pranced but didn’t go closer.

  “Who’s in there?” Mrs. Ferguson and Lilly peered into the room.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know.” The woman must have thought us all nuts.

  “It’s a vampire! You cannot let him out.” Vegas yanked on Bernie’s arm, trying to draw him away from the casket.

  How would we ever convince her? I was about to tell her that a real person, not a vampire, must be in there when Bernie reasoned with her.

  “It’s daylight, Vegas. Humphrey, open the drapes all the way, please.”

  The heavy velvet curtains billowed a bit. Humphrey pulled them aside. I wished sun would flood the room, but gloomy gray daylight filtered in.

  “If Viktor or any other vampire happens to be in there, he’ll shrivel and die in the light of day.” Bernie’s lovely accent always made him sound knowledgeable. He bent forward and tried to lift the top. It didn’t open. He tried again. “It’s jammed or something.”

  Humphrey tapped Bernie’s shoulder. “You don’t know how to do it. Step aside, neophyte.”

  Fear rippled through us when something thunked against the inside of the lid. I held Jen close.

  Humphrey lifted the lid.

  We crowded around for a better look at—Frank Hart.

  He groaned and opened one eye.

  “Can you sit up?” Bernie reached for him.

  Frank inhaled deeply and sputtered. He held up one hand as though it took enormous strength. Bernie moved around behind Frank’s head and reached inside the casket to help him up. Humphrey tugged on the hand Frank had extended.

  Frank wobbled, but between the two of them, Bernie and Humphrey managed to hoist him up and out.

  “Thank you. Thank you.” Frank rubbed his face wearily, then gripped his forehead. “What a headache. Oh no. This is the haunted room. I couldn’t figure out where I was.” He breathed erratically and staggered when he walked, but he was clearly determined to leave the vampire’s bedroom.

  Bernie walked down the stairs in front of him to prevent him from tumbling. Frank scrambled for the door, ripped it open, and lurched past Bernie in his eagerness to depart.

  We scrabbled after him. He hadn’t bothered to close the door, so we piled out of the house single file and joined him on the sidewalk, where he appeared to have collapsed. He sat on the brick sidewalk, holding his head in his hands.

  “How did you get in there?” I asked.

  Frank’s nostrils flared. “That room is cursed. I knew it was trouble when I worked on the haunted house.”

  “See, Aunt Sophie? It’s not just us dumb kids who think mysterious things happen in there.” Jen placed her hands on her hips, reminding me of my mother.

  Bernie’s mouth twitched to the side. “How did you come to be in the casket, Frank?”

  He massaged his head. As if he was trying to remember, his brow furrowed, and he studied us. “I . . . don’t know.”

  Bernie all but picked him up. He helped Frank over to a bench.

  “Sorry, I feel a little woozy. Since the big vampire scare, every night around eleven I’ve taken a stroll to the wine store to make sure kids haven’t broken in. The vampire in the window has attracted a lot of attention, and you can imagine how much damage kids could do to wine bottles. I was passing the entrance to the alley that runs behind the haunted house when someone grabbed me from behind and pulled me into . . .”—he paused—“a graveyard?”

  He must have meant the faux graveyard in the back of the haunted house.

  “I remember . . .” He winced and scratched at his neck. “Oh no! What’s that? Do I have a bite on my neck?” He pulled down his turtleneck.

  Screeching, Vegas jumped away, tumbling to the sidewalk. She scrambled backward. “What is that?”

  “It’s there, isn’t it?” He touched his neck and flinched. “He grabbed me from behind. I woke up in the casket and couldn’t breathe. I thought I was dying, and I remember pressing all the
way around, on the top and the sides, until I found that hole. I reached through it and what a relief not to touch dirt. For a while there . . .” Frank sniffled, unable to control his emotions. “. . . I was afraid I’d been buried alive. I don’t know. I guess I used up the oxygen inside the casket, because when I found the hole and stuck my nose and mouth up against it, my head cleared some.”

  I took a closer look at his neck. A red dot, like the ones on Patrick’s neck, bled slightly. In the spot where the second dot would have been, something clung to him. Something . . . slimy. “I think you’d better go to the emergency room.” I walked away a few steps and dialed 911.

  Officer Wong arrived on the scene first. “What kind of mischief are you up to now?”

  I didn’t want Frank to become hysterical, so I whispered to her about the thing on his neck. Her demeanor changed immediately. Wong leaned toward his neck and moved his turtleneck gently to have a look. Horror registered on her face. She released the fabric and turned a bright smile on Frank. She had the sense to keep Frank talking. He told her what had happened. “How come your pants are wet?”

  I hadn’t noticed, but the bottom foot or so of Frank’s trousers looked like he had waded through a shallow stream.

  He reached down and lifted his pant leg, revealing a screaming red ankle. “Ow. It feels burned.”

  Wong took a closer look. “That’s what I’d say.”

  The sirens of the ambulance drew near. A good thing because that ankle appeared extremely painful to me. “Someone burned you and doused the flame?” I didn’t even want to imagine that anyone would do something so cruel.

  Frank held his forehead with one hand. “I don’t know. I remember the pain, but I couldn’t reach my ankle in that horrible coffin.”

  The ambulance arrived and EMTs piled out as Wolf strode along the sidewalk toward us. He arrived just in time to watch one of the EMTs gingerly touch the thing on Frank’s neck.

  “What the devil is that?” Wolf leaned back when the EMT tweaked it off Frank’s neck.

  He held it up for Wolf to see. “A leach.”

  Frank keeled over into a dead faint.

  The EMT dropped the leach into a plastic bag. “They’re mostly harmless. Ugly little suckers.” He peered at Frank’s neck as they loaded him onto a gurney. “They do make a nice round wound.”

  The girls clustered together, muttering, “Eww.”

  Mrs. Ferguson watched, her eyes huge. “This was the most interesting thing I’ve seen in years. Lilly, honey, I think we should go now, before anything else happens.”

  Lilly must have had other ideas, because she drew her mother into a hushed argument.

  When the ambulance drove away, Wolf looked up at the haunted house. “Sorry, Sophie. I know it’s Halloween and that it’s your big day, but this is now a crime scene.” He slid a gentle arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry to be the bad guy who shuts you down, but we have one murder and two attempted murders. You understand, don’t you?”

  For the sake of the girls, I pulled myself together. “We understand completely. We’re having a midnight dinner for Jen’s birthday tonight. If you’re not busy, maybe you could come?”

  He squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll try to swing by. I miss seeing you.”

  A little argument broke out among the girls. “Hey! What’s going on?” I asked.

  Mrs. Ferguson’s mouth puckered like she’d bitten into a lemon. “Lilly would like to stay for Jen’s party. Under the circumstances, though, I don’t think it’s wise. In fact, I wonder if the girls shouldn’t come to our house tonight.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Ferguson, but my Uncle Mars and Gramma June will be coming. Bernie and Humphrey and Nina, too. I wouldn’t want to disappoint them.” Jen spoke with confidence and extreme politeness, but then her tone elevated a notch, like she thought she was pleading a losing case. “We’re having a midnight dinner!”

  Lilly didn’t bother being gracious. “Mom! Jen is my BFF! I can’t miss her birthday party.”

  Mrs. Ferguson calmly removed car keys from her purse. “Now, Lilly, let’s not make a scene out here on the sidewalk.”

  Lilly turned her back on her mother. “I’m staying with Jen like we planned and that’s final.”

  Bernie stepped toward Mrs. Ferguson. “She’ll be fine. We’ll have a great time, won’t we, Lilly?”

  Ray gamboled out of his shop. “What the blazes is going on?” He eyed the cops stringing yellow police tape along the front of the haunted house.

  I chose my words carefully, so he wouldn’t know I thought he could be the killer. “Someone attacked Frank Hart. The police have shut us down. I’m afraid that’s the end of the haunted house.”

  “Is he dead?” Ray’s brusqueness sounded callous.

  “No.” I almost added that he’d been taken to the hospital, but reconsidered at the last second. If Ray had tried to murder Frank, I didn’t want him to know where he could find him to finish the job.

  Ray scowled. “Wolf, this is overkill. You can’t close down the haunted house just because Frank went on a bender or concocted a story for the benefit of his wife.”

  Wolf didn’t bother to look at him. “That’s why it’s police business, Ray. It’s our job to figure out what happened.”

  Ray muttered, “They have no business closing you on Halloween. I’ll bet that horse trader, Karl, is behind this.” He took a few steps toward Wolf.

  “Wait.” I hurried up to him. “Why would you think Karl is responsible?”

  “He’s all hat and no cattle. He has that innocent baby face, but I never saw a slicker smile. He and Patrick were two of a kind—thought the world owed them everything. Their kind doesn’t understand a hard day’s work and the respect that comes from it. Don’t know what crawled up Karl’s pants, but he was bound and determined to shut you down before you even opened the doors.”

  I didn’t care for Karl or his condescending smirk, but Patrick had been murdered before the incident with Gabriel and Heather. Karl hadn’t made a fuss about closing the haunted house until the day after Patrick’s death. Of course, he could have mugged Frank and stuck him in the casket. Would he do that to his own brother-in-law?

  No one knew about the leaches yet. If the faux vampire bites turned out to be the same on Patrick and Frank, then it meant the same person had attacked them. I couldn’t help rubbing my own neck. Had I come close to having leaches applied to me? Ugh.

  The girls squealed in horror, jolting me out of my selfish thoughts.

  Jen aimed a quivering finger in the direction of Ray’s feet.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Dear Natasha,

  My husband and I were roped into the local high school Halloween party. I’m glad we’ll be keeping the kids off the streets and that they’ll have adult supervision, but they’re bored with little kid party ideas.

  —Mr. and Mrs. Munster in K ill Devil Hills, North Carolina

  Dear Mr. and Mrs. Munster,

  Involve the kids by having a group costume contest. They can dress as characters in their favorite movie, band, or TV show. Decorate with a creature feature theme and the kids will have a ball.1.

  —Natasha

  Mrs. Ferguson pushed Lilly behind her.

  I didn’t see anything. Ray wore navy and maroon slippers, the kind with fabric encasing the toes and open backs that slapped the ground when he walked.

  Wolf sprang toward him. “Take off the slipper.”

  “What in tarnation . . . what is that thing?” Ray slid his bare foot out of the shoe and bent to peer at it.

  I edged closer. On top of the slipper, a slimy worm, just like the one that had been attached to Frank’s neck, writhed slowly.

  “You . . .” I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from finishing the sentence I almost blurted. Blake had been right all along. The leach gave Ray away. He must have nabbed Frank and left him in the casket. Only Ray didn’t realize that one of the leaches had landed on his shoe. It was a dead giveaway.

 
I had never considered myself particularly squeamish, yet the leaches and the realization that Ray killed Patrick sent chills rippling through me.

  Wolf tore his gaze from the leach and shifted it to me. “Was Ray in the haunted house with you?”

  “Not today.” Wolf’s meaning became immediately clear. Most people didn’t happen to have leaches hanging around their residences. Ray had to be the killer.

  Ray held up his hands and backed away from Wolf. “Now hold everything there. I got me a feeling that you’re jumping to some kind of conclusion. What’s going on here? And what is that thing?”

  I was proud of the girls for not blurting anything that might clue him in and make Wolf’s job harder.

  “Oh my word! It’s a leach. He’s the killer!” Mrs. Ferguson apparently did not grasp the importance of keeping details quiet so the police could question the suspect.

  “A leach?” Ray’s mouth pulled back in disgust. He limped toward it, raised his slipper-clad foot, and appeared to be ready to stomp on the leach, but Wolf stopped him.

  Ray directed a grumpy look at me. “What you doin’ with leaches in my building?”

  So he knew that was where he’d picked it up! Confirmation that he’d been in the haunted house when we weren’t there.

  He glanced around at the people gawking at him and the leach. “Look, I haven’t been in any swamps or wherever those things come from. Is that why you’re shutting down the building? Because there are leaches loose in there? How the blazes did something like that happen? Some kid let them loose as a Halloween gag?”

  Either Ray was a talented actor, or he didn’t know anything about the leaches. Risking Wolf’s ire, I challenged him. “So you admit that you entered the house last night or early this morning?”

  Wolf shot me a look of daggers. “I think we’d better talk about this at the station, Ray.”