“Okay,” I conceded. “I don’t have to know all the details, but it’s a sad story, and that makes me want to give the guy some food.”
“There are some things food won’t solve,” Stanley said, “but I like that you want to help others. The thing is, not everyone wants to be helped.”
My purse started making a light, ethereal noise, almost like wind chimes. Digging through the mess of receipts and debris stored in there, I managed to find my cell phone and pull it out.
“It’s my brother,” I told Stanley.
“You should answer that, it might be important,” he said.
Putting the phone to my ear, I said, “I hope this is important.”
“It is,” my brother reassured me. “Are you with the mayor?”
“Yes, we’re on a date.” I smiled at Stanley.
“Good, bring him with you.”
“What? No. Now? Bring him where?” My brother’s sense of drama always had poor timing.
“I’ve planned our next move in finding Ethel’s killer,” Giuseppe said. “I need to tell you both what we’re going to do.”
It was never a good sign when Giuseppe used the word “we.”
“He wants to tell us how we are going to capture Ethel’s killer,” I said to Stanley, who was looking at me with an amused expression.
“Let’s go,” Stanley said. “Sounds like something we need to hear, doesn’t it?”
I wasn’t sure I agreed with Stanley, but I felt like I had no choice. “We’ll be there soon,” I said into the phone, hoping my brother realized I was annoyed with him. Couldn’t this have waited at least until tomorrow? How was I supposed to have a proper date with both the detective and Giuseppe interrupting?
“Remember not to tell your brother where we were when he called,” Stanley said.
Crap, I’d forgotten all about that. “You’re right,” I said. “He’ll be upset, but he won’t yell or anything. He’ll just make me feel like dirt about being here.”
Stanley laughed, surprising me. “What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Families,” he said. “There are so many intricacies in our relationships with our families that it’s hard to keep track of it all sometimes.”
“Is your family drama prone also?”
Stanley nodded. “Not in the same way though. The drama is a little different.”
“In what way?” I was intrigued. I’d never heard Stanley talk about his family before. Putting our coats on, he left a tip on the table and placed his hand on the small of my back as we left. He hesitated for a long while before he answered me.
“My family has a way of being understated in their drama,” he said.
“Then it’s not really drama, is it?”
He shook his head. “You would think so, but in this case the understated can be deadly.”
“I’m not sure I follow what you’re saying.”
He shrugged. “Once my sister dated someone my parents didn’t approve of. They never said it outright to her, but they made sure she knew she wasn’t welcome at family events if she brought him along. It got pretty stressful.”
Ouch. That sounded like downright bullying, never mind drama. I kept my mouth shut though. After all, this was his family, and I hadn’t actually met them yet. Maybe they weren’t all that bad. Plus, my own parents had dealt with a similar sort of situation, and that turned out fine in the end. Somehow people manage to find their way, and I hoped his sister had the chutzpah to do that.
Our walk across the town green was quick, as both of us were anxious to hear what Giuseppe had to say. Even though Stanley hadn’t said it outright, I sensed that Ethel’s death bothered him more than he was letting on.
“About Ethel,” I began, then stopped. I wasn’t exactly sure how to phrase my question.
“Just spit it out,” Stanley said.
“Does her death bother you?”
“Of course,” he said.
“Does it bother you more than other deaths have bothered you?”
Stanley nodded. “Yeah, it does. Ethel died in this town, and even though I had nothing to do with her death, and I’m not a detective or anything, it disturbs me that something like her murder could happen here. I wonder if there’s some sort of criminal element in the area or something I could have done as leader that might have avoided this.”
We were quiet for a moment with only the sound of our steps crunching on the half frozen grass beneath us. Stanley’s hands were stuffed deep in his coat pockets, and his shoulders were hunched up around his neck. I wondered if he even noticed the bitter wind that was now cutting through the buildings and slicing into us.
“I don’t think I realized how seriously I would take this job,” he continued. “Sure, I got into it for only one reason, but once I was elected I realized that people trusted me to guide the town and make sure everything ran smoothly. Town employees, citizens, all these people count on me to do it right. So, yes, losing Ethel is personal to me.”
“It’s not your fault,” I whispered, knowing the words didn’t matter.
Stanley gave me a wistful look. “If only our emotions were logical,” he said.
We had reached my brother’s house by then. A small glow from inside Scentsations lit part of the store, and we walked around back where an outside light provided ample illumination for us and any airplane that might want to land.
“Kind of bright back here,” Stanley commented.
“My brother is big on security,” I said. I climbed the back staircase to the second floor, with Stanley following, and knocked on the door at the top of the stairs. It was old and blue and badly in need of painting, and I made a mental note, as I always did, to show up one day with a paintbrush and a can of paint to take care of this for him.
Clutching baby Danny in one hand, Giuseppe swung the door wide. “Come in, come in, I have to tell you what we’re going to do.”
I stepped inside, feeling a blast of heat. Janine hated the cold, and from September through April their home felt like south Florida. I took my coat off as quickly as possible, knowing it wouldn’t be long before I started to sweat. The kitchen was old, with daisies on the yellow linoleum and a refrigerator that had seen better days, but it was sparkling clean. The smell of something baked hung in the air, and my mouth started to water when I realized Janine had probably made some sort of pie.
Janine made awesome pie. As I was draping my coat over the back of the kitchen chair, Giuseppe started to speak, and I tried not to think about what Janine had baked.
“I know how we’re going to catch Ethel’s killer.” If I didn’t know better, I might think my brother was excited about this.
“We’re listening,” Stanley said.
I silently gave thanks to whatever or whoever controlled the universe for sending Stanley into my life. He was patient and kind, and I was falling hard for him.
Giuseppe smiled at me. “I thought about the best way to get information, and then I realized we should do what we know best.”
So far, this was not sounding good. What the heck do we know best that could help anyone with anything? We knew how to cook pretty well, but I was fairly certain a platter of lasagna wasn’t going to lure the killer out of hiding. Unless he was hungry.
Giuseppe ignored my raised eyebrows and kept talking. “We’re going to do a ghost hunt at Ethel’s house. Monday night, so be ready.”
“But I have to work on Tuesday.” I couldn’t stop the whine that crept into my voice. “Ghost hunts last all night.”
“I want to get this done before the funeral,” Giuseppe said.
“Why is that?” Stanley asked. Bless that man for his patience.
“Once a funeral is performed, it might allow the spirit to be at rest and move on. We want to catch Ethel before she leaves so she can give us a clue about what happened.”
Near silence hovered in the room, with the only sound coming from the clock ticking on the kitchen wall. I didn’t know what to say to my brother th
at wouldn’t sound condescending and sarcastic, so I kept my mouth shut. I assumed that’s why Stanley did the same thing.
“We don’t know when the family will be able to have the funeral, so we thought we should get this done as soon as possible,” Janine said. She bustled around the kitchen, wiping counters that looked sparkling clean to me. Like my mother, Janine had a bit of a thing about keeping her house clean, which I guess worked out well for my brother. Plus, I suspected she was one of those women who cleaned when she got nervous. Right now the house was immaculate and could be used for some sort of advertisement touting the benefits of whatever product she used.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “On a ghost hunt we just try to prove or disprove the existence of ghosts. You’re talking about something else, aren’t you?”
Giuseppe had the grace to look uncomfortable. “Does it really matter what we call it?”
Heck yes, it mattered, because I knew exactly what my brother was talking about.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Isn’t that how we got into this in the first place?” I asked. “I mean, I hate to state the obvious, but it was the original ghost hunt that turned up her body.” I shivered as an image of Ethel, dead, flashed through my mind.
“I got permission from Carla, and she thinks it will be fine,” Giuseppe said. “She’d like to see some closure on this, you know.”
I stopped the stinging retort from leaving my mouth. I wanted to shout at my brother, demanding to know how a ghost hunt with a bunch of out-of-touch wannabe psychics was going to help anyone. But the thing is, and I knew this from experience, we can never really tell how our actions might help someone. It could be that Carla would find some sort of comfort in thinking about her aunt living in another form, crossing over into the great beyond after telling us what had happened.
Most likely everyone would get a little hysterical and think they saw something, which would turn out to be nothing, leaving Carla and the family more confused than ever. But who was I to withhold comfort from the bereaved?
Except for one little thing. “It’s not a ghost hunt, is it?” I asked. “If you think the spirit will be laid to rest soon, and you want to talk to her, it’s more of a séance, and a séance summons the dead.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You want to see if she’ll actually respond to your request and tell us who killed her.” Did my brother think I was an idiot? I did not want to summon spirits from the dead. It was bad enough on the nights I had to go with him to check to see if they were hanging around. Why would I want to converse with them?
“It’s kind of a two-part thing,” Giuseppe said. “We’ll use our equipment to hunt first. If that doesn’t work, we’ll summon.”
“I’m not really getting what the difference is,” Stanley said.
“Oh, it’s quite a difference,” I told him. “Ghost hunting is just sort of poking around, seeing what’s in the kitchen. A séance wakes them all up, rouses them from wherever they are.”
“Sounds … interesting,” Stanley said. “Sorry I’ll miss it.”
Was he serious? Stanley wasn’t going to be by my side for this harebrained adventure my brother was dragging me into?
“I have a town council meeting, and I have to be there,” he explained. I suppose that was a viable excuse, but I didn’t like it. I kind of wanted him around for protection, but I wasn’t sure what I needed to be protected from.
“Maybe you can come to the house when the meeting is over,” I said, hopeful that he could make it.
“Nope, sorry, can’t allow that,” Giuseppe said.
“Why?” Stanley and I spoke at the same time.
“If we’re in the middle of contacting someone from the spirit world, I really don’t want the doorbell ringing,” Giuseppe said.
“So he’ll just come on in,” I said.
“No, Ava, that won’t work. We’re going to have to work hard to create an atmosphere where Ethel feels safe enough to communicate with us. She’s been through a trauma, and it won’t be easy to get her to talk.”
I held back a snort, but only because Stanley was there, and it wouldn’t be ladylike.
My brother kept talking, oblivious to the death daggers shooting from my eyes. Have I mentioned I hate séances?
“If he walks into the middle of what we’re trying to accomplish, he might inadvertently chase her away.” He shrugged. “Sorry, sis, but we can’t take that chance.”
“Why do I have to be there?” I asked.
Giuseppe stared at me as if I’d grown another nose. “You’re the one who found her. You’re the key to all this. Besides, you’re the lead investigator in this whole thing, so you’re going to want to know if we collect any evidence.”
“I think the police would see it differently,” Stanley offered.
Giuseppe waved a hand at us. “They’re not really getting anywhere, are they? She’s my only hope.”
Never mind the fact that the police didn’t usually stake out a séance. I looked at Janine, still furiously scrubbing the stove. I swear that thing glistened as if it had just been bought.
“Janine, what do you think?” I asked. Maybe my sister-in-law could talk some sense into my brother, because I sure as hell wasn’t having any luck.
Janine jumped a little but didn’t let go of that paper towel and spray bottle. “I don’t want to get involved in this. I hate séances,” she said.
“Janine isn’t going. She doesn’t like this kind of thing,” Giuseppe added, just in case I didn’t understand what his wife had said.
Some things weren’t fair. “I don’t like them either,” I said.
“But you’re the lead investigator,” Giuseppe countered, as if that changed everything. I suppose love really does conquer all, because I was the one stuck having to do some dopey, scary-as-all-heck event while the woman he loved got to stay home. Of course, odds were she’d just stay home and clean, but still.
“I’m only trying to do what’s right for my family,” Giuseppe went on. If he meant to be reassuring, he failed. I was not reassured. I tried to rationalize my feelings, knowing they were ridiculous. What could really happen? It’s not as if I expected some demonic force to be unleashed upon me and swallow me into the bowels of hell.
I shivered. That’s exactly what I expected to happen, courtesy of one too many Hollywood movies about just that sort of thing.
I took a breath. It was time to get a grip. The worst thing that could happen would be that I got tired and wound up cranky the next day.
Giuseppe was still talking. “This is an important night, and I’d like to get it done before the killer figures out what we know.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Wait a minute, what the heck do we know? I wasn’t aware of any special knowledge that we had about this murder, and if we had it, why weren’t we telling the police?
Seeing my confusion, Giuseppe answered my question before I could ask. “Remember, everyone knows I’m in touch with the spirit world. Sooner or later the killer is going to realize that’s how we’ll get our answers.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said. Stanley quietly moved to the kitchen table and sat down. He must have figured it would be a long night, and not in the way he had planned.
Even though it probably didn’t matter, I wasn’t going to let my brother get away with this twisted logic. “Using that sort of thinking, then the murderer would be after Kenny, too.”
You’d think I’d said something nice about Pol Pot. Giuseppe’s face twisted into a sneer, and even Janine paused in her cleaning to shoot me a look of disbelief.
“Maybe Kenny doesn’t have the talent your brother has,” Stanley suggested.
“Kenny doesn’t have any talent,” Giuseppe said. “Everyone knows that. He’s a fraud.”
I wasn’t sure how you could tell who was a fraud and who wasn’t when you couldn’t even tell what was real and what wasn’t, but maybe it was better not to mention that.
“Stanley, wou
ld you like some pie?” Janine asked. I knew he was getting the goods because he’d just complimented her husband. Recognition of my brother’s talents went a long way with Janine.
“No, thanks, we just had dinner,” Stanley said.
“Well, here, have some soda instead,” Janine said. “I got these little bitty bottles because they’re so cute, and sometimes you just want a little bit of soda.”
It was better to go with what Janine said, even if it didn’t make sense. I also knew my sister-in-law wouldn’t allow Stanley to get out of there without eating or drinking something.
I looked at my brother and waited. I knew the look he had on his face, the one that said he was considering something big. It was the same look he got right before he had an idea that I would try to talk him out of.
“Everyone knows I don’t like Kenny much,” Giuseppe said. “Never have, never will.” That much was true, but I waited. There was more.
“But putting my distaste for the man aside, I think we should consider the possibility that Kenny may be the murderer.”
I couldn’t believe he’d said that. “G, are you serious? What makes you think Kenny either has the strength or the motivation to actually kill someone?”
Giuseppe counted on his fingers. “First, Kenny didn’t like Ethel.”
“Nobody liked Ethel,” I said, a phrase that was starting to sound old even to my own ears.
The second finger came up. “Second, why did he come to the store that day and try to get in on the ghost hunt?”
“Because for some odd reason he wants to do what you’re doing,” I said.
“And third, it would be perfect PR for him to solve this murder based on receiving messages from the dead. His business would explode from all the calls he’d get.”
My head was about to explode from what I was hearing. “You are out of your mind. Do you really think Kenny would murder someone just to drum up business?”
My brother had the grace at least to squirm a little.
“I’m sure he didn’t think it through,” Giuseppe said, “but I believe this is something we’re going to have to consider. I think he’s capable of all sorts of things. He just hasn’t been caught yet.”
Madness in Brewster Square Page 12