by Dawn Eastman
“So, will you be joining us for more of the workshops?” Lucille asked. “If you find a way that works for you, it can make all the difference.” She seemed oblivious to the tension rolling off of Vi and Mom.
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I probably should practice some more on my own.”
“We’ll work on it tonight, Clyde,” Vi said. “I’ll show you how much easier it is to purl using my technique. That continental bunch avoids purling like the plague.”
Mac grinned at me as he realized I had successfully distracted the gang from murder by throwing them a more interesting bone.
“Seth, you can come to the classes if you want,” Mom said. “We have good snacks all the time. They send in brownies and cakes and cookies.”
Seth looked up from his plate at the sound of his name and “snacks” in the same sentence, but he had clearly not been listening to all the knitting talk.
“Huh?”
“I need Seth to help me with some things,” Dad said and slung his arm over Seth’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear.
“Yeah, sorry. I’ll have to get the snacks some other time,” Seth said.
Vi pressed her lips together and glared at Dad.
Everyone scattered after dinner to either his or her own rooms or the workshop room. Dad and Seth ventured back out into another light snowfall to feed and walk the dogs.
Mac and I went in search of Tina.
After we checked the workshop room and the lounge, we found her in the reception area talking to Wally. He stood a couple of feet away from the counter while Tina leaned toward him, talking urgently. They both startled when we approached.
Tina leaned back, cast a threatening look in Wally’s direction, and tried to brush past us.
Mac put his hand out. “We need to speak with you if you don’t mind.”
Tina narrowed her eyes at Mac. “Actually I do mind,” she said.
Mac’s eyebrows twitched up. No one had refused to talk to us so far.
“We’re just trying to establish a timeline of the night Clarissa died,” I said.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” she said. “I also know I don’t have to talk to you. I’m not under arrest and I don’t have anything to say.” She crossed her arms.
Mac glanced at Wally and lowered his voice. “We are talking to everyone who was not in the dining room the whole time that evening—a witness has come forward who saw you in the hallway outside the turret room that night.”
Wally pretended to be working on his computer, but his hands rested quietly on the keyboard and I could tell he was listening to every word.
“You’ll have to solve your mystery without me,” Tina said. “I’m not talking about it.” She pushed past us and stalked down the hall toward the stairs.
I moved to follow her but Mac put a hand on my arm.
“We can’t force her to talk to us,” he said. “She’s right. She’s not under arrest. But she’s just moved way up on my list.”
* * *
I returned to my room after an hour or so of talking with Mac about the suspects and motives we had already uncovered. Mom and Vi rushed toward me as I shut the door behind me.
“Finally!” Vi said. “Where have you been?”
“Mac and I were downstairs talking.” I noticed the room was lit by candles and all the electric lights had been turned off. I got a queasy feeling.
“We need to get busy here,” Mom said. She swung her arm in the direction of the sitting area.
I looked at the coffee table and saw what they were so excited about. Mom’s tarot cards were poised to share the secrets of the universe and Vi’s pendulum glinted in the candlelight.
“Mom, how come you didn’t go back to the cottage with Dad?” I worried there would be a night of psychic interrogation.
“He and Seth can deal with the dogs,” Mom said. “This is more important. I know you and Mac are working on things in your own way, but I think we can help.” She gestured at her cards.
In the past I would have pushed back against the tarot and pendulum, but now that I was working on my own talents, I understood their need to contribute in any way they could. “What do the cards have to say?” I asked.
“I haven’t looked yet,” Mom said. “We were waiting for you. We think that the cards, the pendulum, and maybe an eyewitness will be useful.”
“Eyewitness?” I said.
“I’ve been trying to find that cat all day, but she’s disappeared,” Vi said. “She might know something.”
“Oh. The cat. Of course.”
I yawned. Even though I was tired, I wasn’t looking forward to another night alternately listening to the wind and Vi’s snoring. Day two in Mexico would have found Mac and me at some romantic restaurant followed by a stroll along the moonlit beach. Tarot cards and pendulums would not have featured in our plans.
“Let’s get this over with,” I said, and sat near the coffee table.
Vi clapped her hands and sat next to me.
“What are we asking tonight?” I asked.
“It seems like Mavis and Isabel had a good reason to want Clarissa dead, if you think that revenge is a reasonable motive,” Vi began. “Tina was seen in the hallway, but I have no idea why she would want to hurt Clarissa. None of the staff liked her very much, but that doesn’t mean any of them would kill her. Lots of terrible bosses live through their employee’s anger.”
I nodded. Vi had summed up in four sentences what Mac and I had discussed for an hour.
“I agree, Vi,” I said.
She smiled. “I’ve been thinking . . .”
She paused and looked at Mom, who tilted her head and gave a subtle nod.
“I want to open my own detective agency,” Vi said in a rush.
I stood up quickly to put some distance between Vi’s crazy idea and myself. “You don’t know anything about detective work.”
“I’ve been reading up on it,” Vi said. “It doesn’t seem that hard and I have some natural talent—I took a test online.”
“I can’t talk about this right now,” I said. “I really need to get some sleep and you two obviously have plans to search out a psychic answer to this mystery.” I gestured at the cards and pendulum.
“Okay, you’re right,” Vi said. “Let’s focus on the problem at hand. It will give me some practice for when I have my own cases.”
Mom was already flipping cards onto the table. I noticed she was using the queen of swords again. That was the card she used to indicate me in her queries. I had had this argument with her enough times to let it slide. She would say that she needed to determine how I would affect the situation. Mom and I don’t usually agree on things psychic, but after spending time with Neila Whittle, I was softening toward Mom’s view. I had been leaning toward the “if you can’t fight it you might as well use it” camp.
“Okay, the cards indicate that you will have a lover’s quarrel—oh, my. I didn’t ask the cards about you and Mac. . . .”
“Maybe they’ll fight about who the killer is,” Vi said. “Or Clyde will get tired of seeing him in that snowman sweater.”
I grinned at Vi. “That’s already happened. Don’t worry about Mac and me. We’re fine. What else do the cards have to say?”
Mom shook her head. “It looks like this will be a tough case. There are many secrets surrounding the situation and some of them are still hidden.”
In the past I would have said something like “super helpful as usual” but my new leaf dictated a more tolerant view. “Thanks, Mom. We can ask again when we know more.”
“Let me have a try,” Vi said. She grabbed the pendulum and set up her piece of paper with the big plus sign indicating the yes and no directions. The pendulum is only able to answer if given two choices.
“What are you going to ask
it?”
“I’ll ask whether the killer will be caught before the weekend is over.”
Vi stabilized the pendulum and let it go. It hung from its chain, unmoving. Slowly it began to move in the yes direction.
“Well, that’s good news,” Mom said.
“Was the killer a knitter?” Vi asked the pendulum.
The pendulum swung rapidly in the yes direction. Vi looked up, her eyes intense.
Unfortunately, the pendulum seemed to sense Vi’s eagerness and refused to identify any of the knitters as the killer. By the time she had run through the list it was almost midnight and I could barely keep my eyes open. Mom and I both begged her to give it a rest.
I walked Mom back to the cottage and hurried through the snow back to the hotel.
By the time I got back to the room, the cold had seeped into my core. I wore a pair of Vi’s wool socks, three T-shirts, and my jeans to bed and still shivered. I was sort of wishing I had Mac’s snowman sweater as I struggled to get warm enough to fall asleep.
21
I am running through the snowy woods. The wind sucks the air from my lungs and snowflakes pelt my face, so I can’t see where I’m going. My heart races and I feel the panic rise in my chest. I’m looking for someone and getting more and more worried. I realize that I am lost. I can’t see the castle anymore and none of the trees look familiar. The snow is piling up so fast I can barely keep moving. My thin sweater doesn’t protect me from the cold and I am shivering.
Then I hear a weak cry. “Clyde . . .”
I run in the direction of the voice, then I hear it behind me—is it an echo? The sound is getting weaker. “Clyde . . .”
A gust of wind knocks me to my knees and I can’t breathe. Just as I fall into the snow on the forest floor I hear it again. “Clyde . . .”
I jerked awake in an unfamiliar bed and realized Vi was shaking my shoulder and saying my name.
“Clyde, wake up!”
I sat up quickly and still felt panicky from the dream.
“Vi, what is it?” I felt like I should have paid more attention to the dream. Something was wrong.
“I think I heard a noise in the hall,” she said. She pulled her fluffy robe tightly across her chest. Her hair was in a braid, but pieces had come loose while she was asleep. Her brows drew together and she looked every one of her seventy-three years.
“It’s a hotel, Vi. It’s probably someone going to their room.” I rolled away from her and pulled the covers over my head, trying to get warm and slow my heartbeat.
“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” Vi said. “This isn’t a party cruise. Everyone is asleep.”
Grumbling, I swung my legs over the edge and clicked on the lamp by my bed. I stood and walked to the door, cracked it open, and listened. There was a cold draft in the hall. I stepped into the darkened hallway with Vi. I was about to head downstairs to see where the draft originated when a door banged shut. The cold air stopped abruptly and I realized that the slamming door was in the turret room.
Vi grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the turret stairs. “It came from up there.”
We started to climb the stairs and then a low moaning sound began and increased to a shrill shriek.
“It’s the ghost!” Vi said. Her bony fingers dug into my upper arm and she slipped behind me on the stairs but I felt her pushing me upward.
“It’s not a ghost,” I said. I gripped the banister tightly and willed myself to continue up the stairs.
“Then what’s that noise?”
“It must be the wind,” I told her and tried to sound brave and not at all freaked out.
We made it to the closed door at the top. The noise was coming from inside the turret room.
I looked at Vi, took a deep breath, and turned the knob.
The door didn’t swing easily open, but as soon as I pushed it a few inches, the noise stopped. Just as we were about to step into the room, the white cat rushed out just like the night before when we had found Clarissa.
“She’s really spooked about something,” Vi said as we watched her race down the steps.
Inside, the room was frigid. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and spun to confront it. White filmy curtains billowed in the wind. Both windows were fully open and snow blew in onto the carpet.
Vi and I rushed forward to slam the sashes shut.
“What’s going on?” Isabel said from the doorway.
We turned quickly to see Isabel and Jessica standing just inside the room.
“We heard noises up here and came to investigate,” Vi said.
“Someone opened the windows, and the wind shut the door and trapped the cat,” I said.
Isabel and Jessica exchanged a look and they both relaxed.
“Mavis is downstairs in a state of high anxiety,” Isabel said.
“She claims she saw a ghost,” Jessica said.
“Mavis saw the ghost?” Vi sounded disappointed that we had only found a cat.
“She pounded on my door a few minutes ago,” Isabel said. “I had her wait in my room with Selma while I went to find Jessica.”
“It was so cold in the hallway,” Jessica said. “I checked all the doors to be sure they were locked and closed and then, while we were reassuring Mavis that everything was fine, the cat streaked past the doorway and downstairs into the lounge.”
“Why was she wandering the halls in the middle of the night?” Vi demanded.
Isabel’s lips thinned. “She claims she heard a noise in the hall.”
“What did Mavis see?” I asked.
“It’s not clear,” said Isabel. “She thought she saw someone walking down the stairs wearing a white old-fashioned nightgown, but when Mavis called to the person she just kept walking and then seemed to disappear.”
“Let’s go down and talk to her,” I said.
Every door was open and the knitters were milling about talking to Mac when we arrived back in the hallway. He was in plaid drawstring pants and an old Michigan State T-shirt. His hair was rumpled and he didn’t look happy at being dragged from his bed for a ghost sighting. Lucille stood next to him in a deep green quilted satin dressing gown. Her spiky hair was a bit lopsided and she looked more fascinated than annoyed.
“Phillip, I think you should go down there and check things out,” Lucille said. “I’m sure we’d all sleep better knowing there isn’t a ghost roaming the halls.”
Mac ran his fingers through his hair, making it look almost as spiky as his mother’s.
“We’ll go with you,” Vi said as we approached.
Mac turned and I saw relief and annoyance flash across his face.
“There’s no ghost,” Mac said. “I don’t know how to prove the castle is safe from something that doesn’t exist.”
Vi gave him a pitying look.
“We can go downstairs and check for cold spots,” Vi said in a tone that should be reserved for kindergartners. “If there was a ghost, there will be cold spots.”
“I think the whole castle is a cold spot, Vi,” I said. “The window let in enough cold air for twenty ghosts.”
Vi sighed. “You’re probably right. It’s not like we’ll be able to tell the difference between regular cold and ghost cold now. Whoever opened the window was pretty clever.”
“Do you think the ghost opened the window?” Lucille asked.
Vi considered this and then shook her head. Mac and I exchanged a “how did we get here” look.
“I doubt the ghost would have messed with the windows,” Vi said. “It usually just walks the halls or looks out the window. Isn’t that right, Jessica?”
Jessica drew in a sharp breath at being pulled into the ghost discussion.
“I don’t know, Ms. Greer,” Jessica said. “I’m not a ghost expert.”
“Obviously
,” Vi said. “But you know the stories about your ghost. Has it ever opened the windows before?”
Jessica shook her head, and took a step closer to Isabel.
“It’s too bad we can’t get some ghost hunters out here with the storm and all.” Vi stroked her chin in an exaggerated gesture of thinking.
“I think it would be more useful to get the police out here,” I said.
“They won’t be any better at dealing with this than you and Phillip,” Lucille said.
Mac held up his hands and I saw his cheek muscles twitch.
“Look, Clyde and I will go downstairs and check out the whole ground floor,” he said. “Jessica and Isabel, maybe you can calm Mavis and Selma and get them back to their room.” Mac turned to Tina, Heather, and Amy. “If you wouldn’t mind returning to your rooms, we’ll take care of it from here.”
Heather and Amy nodded. Tina narrowed her eyes at Mac and opened her mouth to speak, but Heather jabbed her in the ribs and pulled her down the hall. I watched them go, wondering why Tina had an issue with Mac. She bristled every time he tried to take control of the crowd.
Isabel and Jessica nodded and ducked into Isabel’s room. Mac and I walked toward the stairs. I heard shuffling behind us. I stopped and Vi bumped into me.
“What?” she said. “Neither of you have any experience with ghosts. You’ll need me along to help deal with it.”
“What experience do you have?” I crossed my arms.
“I’ve done a lot of reading on the subject,” Vi said. “And I’ve talked to lots of ghost hunters.”
“Fine, Ms. Greer, you can come with us,” Mac said.
I twisted around to look at Mac and probably looked just as mutinous as Tina had. Vi grinned and we set off again for the stairway.
Even with the electricity back on, the sconces in the hallway had been dimmed for the evening and the three of us cast hazy shadows on the stairs as we descended. It was definitely spookier than during the daytime and I was glad I wasn’t alone. I took Mac’s hand and Vi slipped her arm through mine on the other side.
A thorough search of all the main-floor rooms yielded no ghosts. Everything was as it should be. The library was ready for the next day’s workshop, with yarn and needles laid out on the tables. I noticed striped scarves on all the statues in the reception area. That was new. Maybe the ghost had been doing some yarn bombing.