by Shéa MacLeod
“Sure,” I muttered. I didn’t give a toss if anyone was “into” it or not. I just wanted to goad the killer into revealing himself. Or herself. I hadn’t ruled out a woman as the killer, though it seemed less likely since whoever killed Blodgett had dragged his body into the secret passage and then back to the desk chair. That would have taken a lot of strength. I mean, just about anyone could heave him out of the chair and drag him across the floor, but getting him back was another story. I wasn’t even sure I could do it, never mind tiny Monica Carsley or slender Lavender Wu. The professor was a tall, spare woman who might have the strength to pull it off. She certainly had strength of character.
The rest of the guests began to filter in, urged on by Lucas and the colonel. Not everyone had been thrilled with the idea.
“This is ridiculous,” the professor complained loudly, as if to prove my point. “Séances are for the weak minded.”
“Just shut up and sit down, will you, Abigail?” Martin said shortly.
“Shut up, you disgusting man,” she snapped.
“Trouble in paradise,” Lucas muttered as he sat down beside me. I was sitting across from Jez so I could keep an eye on things. Just in case.
“I don’t think that particular marriage could ever have been described as paradise,” I whispered back. “When I talked to her, I got the feeling she never liked him much.”
“Then why did she marry him?”
“Don’t ask me,” I said. “People are weird.” I eyed him meaningfully.
He sighed. “Viola...”
“Now is not the time.”
Lavender Wu sat down on Lucas’s other side with a smug smile aimed in my direction. I didn’t get her deal. She was supposedly having a hot and heavy affair with Martin, yet she took the opportunity to flirt with Lucas and throw it in my face every chance she got. If she thought she’d upset me, she was barking up the wrong tree. If I’ve learned one thing in my life it’s this: You can’t force people to love you or want to be with you, nor can you take anyone away who doesn’t want to be taken. Lucas was with me. Period. Worrying about things that might happen was a waste of time and energy.
Granted, I’d spent a lot of time resisting any sort of commitment, but I’d gotten over that. Mostly. Besides, that had been more about me and my past than any worry about Lucas.
Martin made as if to sit on Lavender’s other side, but the colonel beat him to it. I wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not. Martin was forced to sit in between his wife, who was on Jez’s left, and the colonel. Neither of the Huxton-Barrigtons looked thrilled to be sitting next to each other.
On Jez’s right was Monica Carsley. Oddly enough, James didn’t sit next to Monica. Instead he sat two chairs down with Anka, the maid, between them. She was muttering something in Polish while fingering the gold cross around her neck. Next to her was Bill with Rupert tucked between him and me.
“Good, we’re all here,” Jez said. “We can begin.” She lit the candle in front of her. “Rupert, can you dim the lights, please?”
Rupert walked to the fireplace, took a remote control off the mantle, and pointed it at the chandelier. The bulbs dimmed and the room was cast into long shadows. The single candle glowed cheerfully as Rupert replaced the remote on the mantle and took his seat. Jez gave us all a stern look.
“Now, we are about to touch the spirit world. It’s very important that you follow my instructions to the letter.”
The professor muttered something about idiots and small minds. Lavender rolled her eyes. Anka prayed harder. The rest of us nodded our agreement.
“Good. I need everyone to hold hands and don’t let go until the séance is over no matter what happens.”
We all grabbed hands. Rupert’s was a bit sweaty. Lucas’s was firm, and warm. He ran a thumb across my inner wrist which made me shiver. Naughty man. Did he not know I was still mad at him?
Jez raised her voiced in a sing song intonation. “We ask for protection as we enter the spirit realm.” She swayed back and forth a little. “A circle of protection be around us.” She took Monica and Martin’s hands and closed her eyes. “The circle is complete. Spirits, are you listening? Is anyone there? Please, give us a sign.”
The room was still as we all stared at each other. It was more than a little awkward. Anka was rocking back and forth muttering in Polish. A prayer, probably. Lavender was smirking at me. The professor gave a less than quiet huff.
“Please,” Jez intoned. “Rap once if you can hear me.”
There was a pause, and then a very distinct rap. We all nearly jumped out of our seats. Anka looked like she might faint. The professor’s mouth dropped open in shock, and the knock wiped the smirk right off Lavender’s face. My turn to smirk. I knew very well it was Lucas.
“Spirit, thank you for coming,” Jez said. “Please identify yourself. Are you Jeffrey Blodgett?”
Silence.
“Marilyn Toppenish?”
A single, loud knock. I tried to figure out where it was coming from, but it was hard to tell. Lucas had been very clever.
“Marilyn, welcome. Do you know who killed you? One knock for yes, two for no.”
There was a pause and it seemed everyone held their breath. Then came one knock. Anka let out a squeal of terror.
“Marilyn, we need you to tell us who killed you so that he or she can be brought to justice.” Jez sucked in a deep breath. “Please use me as your vessel to communicate to us the identity of your murderer.”
Her head fell back, then lifted slowly up. Her eyes opened, and she stared glassily at us. A smile curved her full lips and it chilled me to the bone. She was either a very good actress or... I couldn’t believe the “or” was possible.
“Hello, everyone.” The voice that came from Jez’s mouth wasn’t hers. It was garbled, altered, filled with amused superiority. “So nice of you to visit.”
“Marilyn, is that you?” the Colonel asked. The tips of his moustache trembled.
“Hey, hot stuff. It’s me.” She literally waggled her eyebrows. It was creepy as all get out.
“Marilyn, who killed you?” he asked.
Her gaze roved the table, that superior smile growing wider. “It was—.”
The lights went out, plunging the room into near darkness. Smoke wafted across the table as a sudden breeze doused the candles. I could hardly see my hand in front of my face. Somebody screamed. There was a thud, then the clatter of a chair falling over.
“Somebody get the lights.” Lucas shouted.
“I can’t see!” Monica cried.
“Boże pomóż nam.” I was guessing that was Anka praying in Polish.
“Shut up, everyone!” Pretty sure the nasty snarl came from James Carsley.
The lights finally came back on. The first thing I saw was Jez slumped across the table, blood pouring from a wound on the back of her head.
Chapter 19
Once Upon a Midnight Dreary
“FOLLOW MY FINGER.” Lucas held his finger up in front of Jez’s face and waved it back and forth.
“I’m fine, guys, really.” She winced as Bill pressed a wet cloth to her scalp.
“It looks superficial,” he said. “You know how head wounds are. A shallow cut can make you bleed like a stuck pig.”
“Don’t be so crass,” Rupert snapped. He was looking a little green around the gills.
“Doesn’t look like you have a concussion.” Lucas stepped back. “But to be on the safe side, you should get plenty of rest. Take something for the pain and go to sleep.”
“My dear boy, everyone knows you should stay awake if you have a concussion,” the colonel said.
Lucas gave him a small smile. “I’m afraid that’s a myth, sir. Doctors now recommend sleep to heal the brain as long as the injured is able to communicate fully and isn’t staggering around or anything.”
While they argued I sat down next to Jez and handed her an icepack. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said.<
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“Still, I’m going to figure out who did it. That séance was pretty convincing, by the way.”
She smiled a little. “It was, wasn’t it?”
“So, it was fake.”
Her smile widened. “My lips are sealed.”
I glared at her. “Well, as long as you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” Jez repeated, heaving herself off the chair in the kitchen where Bill had been tending her. She winced a little. “Although I’ve definitely got a headache. A pain killer and sleep sound really good.” She glanced over at me. “Did you get what you needed?”
I frowned. “Maybe. I’ll have to give it some thought.”
She sighed. “I was hoping we’d get a confession or something.”
The colonel chuckled. “My dear girl, this isn’t the movies.”
We all ignored him. His superior attitude was more than a little annoying.
“I’ll bring you some tea,” Rupert offered.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Jez said. “I just want to crawl in bed.”
“I’ll help you up the stairs,” Bill offered. “I know. You’re fine. But just in case.”
“You okay?” I asked Rupert as Bill and Jez exited the kitchen. “You seem a little...stressed.”
“Bill’s been on my case about the drinking,” he muttered. “It’s so irritating. Especially since I know he wasn’t exactly behaving himself.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you ever wonder what Bill was doing the day Blodgett was killed?”
I thought about it. “Well, he said Anka was helping him from about ten until the body was found.”
“But before that, he has no alibi. Do you know why?”
“Um, no,” I admitted.
“He was outside. Smoking.” Rupert said it like you’d say he was murdering someone.
“How do you know?” I asked. “I thought you were getting drunk in your office.”
“I was. But after he gave me grief for that and threatened to leave me, I pointed out he had no alibi and maybe he’d been off killing Blodgett. He finally admitted he was taking a smoke break out back.”
“And this is a problem because...” I prompted.
“Because he promised me he quit. He lied! And after giving me grief about drinking, too.” He crossed his arms and thrust out his lower lip. He looked like a pouting elf. I tried really hard not to laugh.
“Rupert, one other question. Is there another remote to the drawing room chandelier other than the one you used?”
“No. That’s the only one.”
“Is there any other way to control the lights besides the remote and the switch?” I asked.
His brow furrowed. “Well, technically they can be controlled by a smartphone, but you’d have to download the app and know our password.”
“Who knows the password?”
“Just myself and Bill. Neither of us brought our phones to the séance, though. Jez asked everyone not to. I locked mine in my desk drawer.”
“You’re sure Bill didn’t have his?” I asked.
“Positive. I watched him set it on the counter in the kitchen. It was still here when we brought Jez in.”
“So, someone would have had to hack your password in order to turn out the lights?”
“I don’t see how else they could have done it,” Rupert agreed.
“Well,” said the colonel turning back from bidding Jez goodnight. “I’m not certain that accomplished anything except for an evening of amusement and a cleaning bill for the table cloth. Not to mention the injury to poor Ms. Montgomery’s head. Who do you suppose did it?”
“Could have been Martin,” Lucas said. “He was sitting beside her. Easy enough to bash her when the lights went out.”
“But why?” I asked. “He’s in the clear for Blodgett’s murder which means he had no reason to kill Marilyn and therefore no reason to hit Jez.”
“Maybe he was protecting someone?” Rupert suggested.
It was possible, but it felt all wrong. I turned to Lucas. “By the way, how’d you rig the knocking sound? It was perfect.”
“I didn’t. I mean, I rigged up something, but I never used it,” Lucas admitted.
Rupert’s eyes widened. “There really was a ghost.”
“More likely someone very human was knocking,” Lucas said dryly. “Question is, who and why?’
I rubbed my forehead. A headache was blossoming behind my eyes. “I’m tired. I need some sleep. Maybe things will be clearer in the morning.”
BUT I COULDN’T SLEEP. I lay awake, staring at the canopy that loomed above like a ghostly presence. Lucas snored softly beside me. The man could sleep anywhere, anytime. Drat him.
I decided to go over the scene again. I pictured each person as they sat around the table. We’d all been in our places when the lights had gone out. What had happened at that moment?
I scrunched my eyes closed, trying to picture it. Yes. We’d all turned and stared at the chandelier. Like anyone would do. Even me. And at that precise moment, when we’d all been staring at the chandelier, there was that breeze and the candle went out, making the room completely dark.
Except it wasn’t a breeze. It was warm and humid which meant it was someone’s breath. Someone had blown the candle out. One good puff would have doused the flames.
So, somehow or other somebody had set up the lights to go out. Then with everyone distracted, that person had blown out the candles so the room would be completely dark. After that, no one would have known if they’d gotten out of their chair, because we’d all dropped hands at that point. Apparently Jez’s admonition to not let go no matter what had fallen on deaf ears.
Anyone could have gotten out of their seat and bashed Jez on the head. Well, almost anyone. I was certain Lucas hadn’t left my side. Ditto Rupert. He had clenched my hand tightly until the lights went on.
The question was, who made the lights go off in the first place? And how? If it had to be by remote, using a smartphone, as Rupert explained, who would have the know-how to hack the password? Did anyone?
Then another thought occurred to me. Bill had left his phone on the counter where anyone could have seen it. Had someone taken the opportunity to grab it? If so, they could have turned out the lights. Once they were back on and everyone was focused on Jez, they could have put the phone back. Yes, that made more sense. But who?
I tried to remember the order in which everyone entered the room. Jez had already been there when I walked in. Then the professor and Martin had arrived. I clearly remembered the professor’s very loud complaints. Lavender had been right behind them. I replayed the evening in my head, watching as one-by-one the guests entered the room, until...
I sat bold upright in bed.
“It can’t be.”
“Wh—,” Lucas mumbled.
“But it has to be. There’s no other explanation.” I jumped out of bed, grabbed my robe, and flung open the door. There was only one person who could have done it. I knew who the killer was.
I SAILED DOWN THE HALL dressed in nothing but pajamas and an unbelted robe. I hadn’t even bothered to stop and put my bra on. I pounded on the door so hard it rattled in the frame. Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered how solid the door was and was impressed with myself.
The door swung open revealing Monica Carsley in a faded green dressing gown with a droopy hem and a ripped pocket. How many dressing gowns had she packed? She gave me what passed for a glare. “What do you want?”
“Who is it?” James snarled from inside the room.
“It’s that Viola woman,” Monica said.
“Does she know what time it is?”
“Of course I know what time it is.” I pushed past her into the room and snapped on the overhead light. James was half out of bed. Fortunately for my sanity, he wore a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. It would have been incredibly awkward if he were one of those types who slept au naturale.
“What the blazes are you about?”
he snapped. He eyes flashed dark and angry.
“Not a morning person, are you?” I gave him a smug smile. “Too, bad. Because I know who did it.”
“What are you talking about?” Monica tugged the collar of her robe up around her neck. Her eyes had that deer-in-the-headlights look. I was a little worried she might pass out.
“I was trying to recall who could possibly have hit Jez during the séance. I thought at first it must be James. Sorry, James.” I gave him an apologetic look. He shrugged as if to say “whatever.” I turned back to Monica feeling triumphant. “There was only one person it could have been.”
“Who?” she asked. Her hands were shaking a little.
“You.” I pointed a finger straight at her. She let out a little squeak and stumbled backward a step. I continued. “It wasn’t that hard to figure it out. It happened so quickly there’s no way anyone seated even a couple of chairs away from Jez could have grabbed a weapon, hit her, hid the weapon, and got back in their seat before the lights came on. But you, you were sitting right next to her. You could have easily grabbed the candle stick, smacked her, and put it back, no one the wiser.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, but all the color had drained from her face. She groped for the edge of the bed and sank down. “Just silly, really. I would never... I couldn’t... James, tell her.”
“Monica’s a ninny,” James assured me. “She’d never hurt a fly.”
“Of course not,” I agreed. “Not unless she was forced into it.”
His eyes glittered coldly and his mouth formed a hard line. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that there’s one person who could manipulate Monica into committing violence. You.”
“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed.
“Is it?” I crossed my arms. “Look at her. She’s a mouse. Sorry, Monica.”
She waved me off as if being called a mouse was a regular event.
“Why would I have my wife attack Jez? That’s insane.” His outrage seemed real, but there was such an aura of anger around him, I knew I was on the right track.