The Mystery Sisters series Box Set

by Karen Musser Nortman

  Lil said, “I don’t understand. What is it, Terry?”

  Max put her hand to her mouth. “It’s a person, right? She was here last night with the bus tour.”

  Terry moved into the room with Max and Lil right behind him. He pulled out his phone as he neared the chair.

  The woman wore the same white dress as the manikin had been dressed in and blood streaked her face. Unlike the manikin, her mouth was closed. Her eyes were open and seemed to emanate fear.

  Max gritted her teeth, stepped forward, and gingerly felt the woman’s neck for a pulse. She looked at the others and shook her head. “No pulse.”

  Terry gave the police their location. “There’s a woman we believe is dead in place of one of the manikins we had in this haunted house project. Okay. Thank you.” He hung up.

  Terry took his mother’s arm. “Let’s go downstairs. There are a couple of kerosene lanterns in the kitchen. We’re going to need more light.”

  Tears ran down Lil’s face. “It doesn’t seem right to leave her.”

  “I know, but with one flashlight, we need to stick together. And whoever did this could still be around.”

  Lil’s mouth dropped open. She grabbed Max’s hand, and they followed her son down the stairs.

  By the time Terry found the lanterns in one of the kitchen cupboards and got them lit, they could hear sirens nearing the house. Intense flashlight beams pierced the darkness and rain, as heavy footsteps mounted the porch. Terry opened the door.

  “Come in, please.” He stood back as three officers entered, led by Josh Mansell. “Sorry to get you out in weather like this, but I can’t believe this has happened.”

  The chief nodded at the women and turned back to Terry. “You said there’s a dead woman here? A real one?”

  Max wasn’t surprised at his question. It would have been her first response too.

  Terry pointed up the stairs. “The room at the top of the stairs. I need to call my wife and have her get the word out that we won’t be open tonight.”

  Chief Mansell nodded. “All right. An ambulance crew should be here any minute just in case there’s any chance for her.” He led the way up the stairs. His heavy-duty flashlight lit up more of the stairwell, helped by those of the other two officers.

  Terry got Melody on the phone and told her what they had found. He repeated it a couple of times; it was obvious that Melody was having a hard time grasping the news. Then they talked about how to best notify the public of the change in the schedule.

  “Call Camille first; I’m sure she has some ideas. Becky Schultz sends out that chamber newsletter each week to all of the club presidents and others for them to share. Maybe she could use that list.” A pause. “Okay, I’ll call you after the police leave.”

  Another siren announced the arrival of the ambulance. Terry went to the front door to direct them.

  Max and Lil stood in the kitchen around one of the lanterns, still in shock. The surreal event, the dim light, the indistinct voices and shuffling noises from upstairs all contributed to a pervasive chill.

  Finally Max said, “I keep thinking how much worse it would have been if someone with small children had discovered that—her.”

  Lil shook her head and rubbed her arms. “It would have been Ren and Rival. They always go upstairs as soon as we get here. We were lucky that the problem with the signs brought us here early.”

  Terry came back in the kitchen and said to Max, “You recognized the woman?”

  “I don’t know her name, but she was with the bus tour last night. She’s the person who asked if I knew a local man—I can’t think of the name now—but I asked you about him last night. You said you’d never heard of him.”

  “Right. I can’t remember the name either right now, but keep thinking.” He scrolled through his phone. “Here’s the name and number of the tour person—I need to write that down for the police.” He opened another cupboard and pulled out a small notebook.

  They turned toward the entry hall at the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. Chief Mansell walked into the kitchen, shaking his head. “I never expected something like this in this town. Do you know her?”

  “No, but my aunt, Max, says she was in the bus tour group that came through here last night.” He handed Mansell the slip of paper. “This is the name and number of the tour guide. You’ll have to get her to make the identification.”

  Mansell looked up from the paper at Terry. “Do you know if they’re still in town?”

  “Yes. They were going to tour the brewery and the museum today and some of the shops tomorrow. They’re staying at the Hilltop Inn.”

  The chief stuck the paper in his shirt pocket. “We’ll have to call in the state crime lab. We’re not equipped to handle something like this. Can you keep the house off limits until then?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure we’ll even want to open again. The Board will decide, I think.”

  “Who has keys?”

  “I do, of course, and Camille Bamford.” He ticked names off on his fingers. “Patsy Johnson, the school liason. Art Carnel. Tom Muller. Trish Yoder. That’s it.”

  “Would you make a list of those people? I will need to check and see if they all have theirs and if any of them were here today. And I’ll need a key to the house.”

  “I’ll do that. You can have my key, and we’ll get out of here so that you can lock up when we leave.” Terry pulled the key off a ring and handed it to the chief. “Is there anything else?”

  “Just a couple of other questions.” Mansell turned to Max. “You visited with this woman?”

  “Very briefly.” Max explained about taking Art’s place reading in the garden. “When I finished, she asked me if I knew a man from Burnsville whom she had met on a cruise. She assumed I was local, you see. I told her I was only visiting and knew very few people here, but when I asked Terry later, he had never heard the name either.”

  Josh Mansell raised one eyebrow and pulled a note pad and pen out of his pocket. “What was the man’s name?”

  Maxine shrugged. “We were just talking about that. Neither of us can remember. Sorry. Anyway, then she left.”

  More footsteps on the stairs signaled the ambulance crew removing the woman’s body.

  Chief Mansell conferred with the other two police officers.

  One raised a large camera. “Difficult to get good pictures with the power out. Benton finally got a big spotlight out of the car so we’re okay.”

  “Good,” Mansell said. He nodded at Terry, Max, and Lil as they went out the front door.

  Terry started the car but didn’t put it in gear. Thunder crashed around them and the wind still howled.

  He wiped the raindrops off his face. “Wow. I didn’t know the woman, but it’s a horrible thing. She probably has family and friends, wherever she’s from, but all I can think of right now, is how am I going to tell the kids?” He looked across at Lil.

  She patted his hand and said, “Maybe Mel already did.”

  Chapter Seven

  Max

  But Melody hadn’t. “I just told them we wouldn’t be open tonight because of the weather.” She looked at Terry apologetically. “I wimped out.”

  “That’s fine.” He hugged her. “We’ll figure something out together. Where are they?”

  “Upstairs watching a video. So who is this woman? Do you know?”

  “No,” Max said. “Remember last night when I asked if you knew some man from Burnsville. Neither Terry nor I can remember the name. The woman who died is the one who was asking.”

  “Oh, you mean Al Carson?” Melody asked.

  Max snapped her fingers. “That’s it. How did you remember that?”

  “It made me think of Al Carstenson, who was in my high school class,” Melody said. “But I’ve never heard of Al Carson. You said she met him on a cruise?”

  “That’s what she said. I’m thinking maybe he was a sleaze who gave her a fake name and town.”

  “I wondered about t
hat, too,” Melody said.

  Terry got out his phone. “I should give that name to Mansell. Maybe someone in her group knows what cruise line, and they could track him down. Kind of suspicious that she starts asking about a non-existent person and then is found dead.” He put his phone away. “Voicemail. I think I’ll drive to the Inn. I’m sure that’s where the chief is, and I should also express condolences to the tour group on behalf of the bank.”

  Max said, “I’d like to ride along.”

  Terry raised his eyebrows. “Doing a little sleuthing? I heard you were solving murders at the reunion last summer.”

  “Murder. Singular. And I didn’t solve it on my own. Your mother helped. But seriously, I think it must be a terrible shock. Sometimes people become pretty close on those bus trips.”

  Lil said, “I’ll go too. Is that little bakery still open? We could pick up some treats for them.”

  Terry looked at his watch. “They would be closed by now. Besides, the Hilltop Inn, where they’re staying, has the best-baked stuff in town. Let’s just go express our sympathy.”

  The wind was still howling and rain lashed the sides of the house. Terry had pulled his car into the garage so they didn’t have to go back out in the weather, and when they arrived at the Hilltop Inn, they were able to park under the portico. They still hurried to the door to minimize drenching by what seemed like sideways sheets of water.

  The door opened into a traditional entry hall with a wide staircase. A stooped man in a too-big flannel shirt looked up in surprise as he was about to turn into a double doorway carrying a tray of coffee cups. He seemed somewhat feeble and unassuming; Max was reminded of the many nervous characters played by Don Knotts. Yet incongruously, he appeared to have broad shoulders under the loose shirt. His face was pleasant and he squinted in their direction.

  “Oh, Terry! It’s you, isn’t it? Come in and get those wet things off.” He set the tray down on a sideboard and reached for their coats. A hall tree in the corner provided space for the dripping garments.

  “Mother, Aunt Max—this is Wendell Welter, the owner of the Hilltop. Wendell, my mother, Lil Garrett and my aunt Maxine. I assume the bus group has gotten the bad news?”

  Wendell picked up the tray again. Max noticed his hands shook. “They’re in the living room. Chief Mansell arrived a little bit ago and told them. Such an awful thing.” He shook his head and then got almost a smirk on his face. “I told the Chamber I thought that haunted house was a bad idea. I was right.” He led the way through the double door.

  People stood or sat in groups, hugging each other, patting others on the back, and shaking their heads. Several women cried visibly. Chief Mansell stood in one corner with a pad and paper talking to a thin well-dressed woman, who Max recognized as the tour director.

  The chief looked up at Terry and the women as they entered and motioned them over.

  The tour director gave Terry a thin smile. “Do you know yet what happened?” Her tone held suspicion.

  Terry shook his head. “We have no idea. It was a shock to us all.”

  Chief Mansell said, “Maybe you and I could find a little more privacy to talk to Ms. Tarrington. Wendell, could we use one of the other rooms?”

  Wendell, who had been setting up the coffee cups by a large chrome pot nearby, nodded. “Of course. Follow me.”

  Max and Lil moved out of the way. “I don’t think we were invited,” Lil muttered.

  “Definitely not. But we can certainly talk to the others.” Max led the way to three women standing by the window, one dabbing at her eyes with a wadded up tissue.

  One woman said, “Oh! Aren’t you the one who read the stories in the garden last night?”

  Max wasn’t sure whether the comment was just an observation or an accusation, but she would assume the former. She was also surprised to be recognized without her snake headdress. “Yes, I was. We wanted to tell you how horrified we are at what happened.” She held out her hand and, to her surprise, the woman took it.

  “Mary Carmody. We are all in shock, as you can imagine. Barbara was such a friendly person.”

  “Did you know her well? I hope they were able to notify her family.” Max said.

  A short stocky woman in an Ohio State sweatshirt, said, “She had a sister. Bonnie, I think was her name. Barbara was from Cincinnati. But I never heard her talk about any other family. I’m sure Marge has emergency contact information.”

  “Marge?” Lil asked.

  “The tour director.”

  Mary looked at the other two, and then said, “I’m sure she wasn’t married. She talked about contacting a man here in Burnsville that she’d met on a cruise.”

  Max nodded. “Yes, she asked me about him, but I’m not local either. We’re just visiting. I couldn’t tell her anything.”

  Mary shook her head, perplexed. “It seems like there’s a lot of strange connections with that old house. Someone was talking at breakfast this morning about that nun’s habit they found—said it was connected to bank robbery years ago?”

  “The police think it might be.” Max tried to redirect the conversation. “Was Barbara with your group at all today?”

  Mary nodded. “She went on the brewery tour this morning, but at lunch said she wasn’t feeling well. So she skipped the museum this afternoon. We assumed she was staying here to rest.”

  The third woman, wearing a name tag that said ‘Sheri,’ said in a low voice, “She seemed to be fine this morning, and then she got a call at lunch right before she decided not to go to the museum. I wondered if she was meeting that guy she mentioned.”

  “How would she go somewhere? You travel on a bus, right?” Lil asked.

  “Yes, but the inn owner gave us information on a local taxi service—kind of an Uber affair.”

  “I see,” said Max. “Well, you have our sympathies. How long have you been on this trip?”

  “Just since Friday,” Ohio sweatshirt said. “We started from Dayton. So, three days. We’re supposed to leave here Wednesday for Lancaster County.”

  “Tomorrow, we’re supposed to visit some of the shops here,” Mary said. “I read that there’s a great quilt shop.”

  “I asked about that and it’s out in the country in an old barn. The bus isn’t going out there. We’ll have to get a taxi,” said Ohio sweatshirt.

  “Oh, I’ll have to check that out. My son must be keeping it a secret from me.” Lil patted Mary on the arm. “I hope they find out soon what happened to Barbara, and that the rest of the trip goes much smoother.”

  “Thank you.”

  A couple stood to one side of the fireplace, scanning the room and occasionally whispering to each other. Each held a half-full glass of red wine, and the man regarded the others in the room with a sneer. Lil led Max toward them and held out her hand.

  “Hello. I’m Lillian Garrett. My son works for the bank that sponsored the haunted house. We just wanted to tell you how sorry we are about your experience.”

  They both ignored her hand. The man said, “I hope your son’s employer is ready for a few liability lawsuits.”

  “Lawsuits?” Lil’s mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. “But they had nothing to do with Barbara’s death.”

  “Really?” said the woman. “Well, the lack of security there was their responsibility. Now our trip is ruined.”

  Max studied the woman a moment and said, “So was Barbara’s. Let’s go, Lil.”

  They walked across the room to another group, and worked their way around the room to the door, making small talk and uttering what words of comfort they could. There were a variety of reactions but none as cold as the couple by the fireplace.

  Terry came back in the room and spotted them. They headed toward him.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  Lil nodded. “Yes, I think it’s time.”

  “Why is that?” He held the front door for them, and waved good-bye to Wendell.

  Max described the behavior of the couple by the fire
place. “Otherwise, everyone’s been very nice.”

  Terry looked shocked, and then said, “I suppose it’s to be expected. I’ll need to call Camille when we get home.”

  But Camille was sitting in his kitchen with a cup of coffee and a plate of cookies in front of her, talking to Melody. Her hair was messy, and she appeared to be wearing no make up. Terry had never seen her like that. Rosie was curled up under the table.

  Camille jumped up when she saw him. “Terry! What an awful thing! Mel said you went to talk to the tour people?”

  “I just felt I had to do something. Mansell was there talking to the tour director and I found out a little more about the victim.” He paused. “But, Camille, they’ve found no sign of breaking and entering. Whoever did it must have had a key. And we have quite a few people with keys.”

  “Oh, dear. Do you really think—?”

  “I don’t know what to think. This woman apparently had a ‘friend’ here whom she met on a cruise. Someone named Al Carson. But no one knows him. The whole thing is so brutal. The killing and then placing her somewhere that kids may find her…I just don’t know.”

  “Did you ever find Art?” Max scratched Rosie’s head, who had finally noticed that her mistress had returned.

  Camille gave a little laugh that sounded forced. “Oh, yes. He had called on a couple of clients about a hundred miles away and was so tired he fell asleep in his motel Sunday and didn’t wake up to call us. He’s on his way back now.”

  “Does he know about the murder?”

  “No, I talked to him before Terry called. Why?”

  “Just wondering,” Max said. She remembered Art with the redhead on Saturday. What she really wondered was what kind of ‘calls’ he made.

  Terry pulled out a chair and sat at the table, absently grabbing handful of cashews from a bowl. “I need to contact everyone who has a key to the house and see if they still have theirs.” He turned to Camille. “Would you want to check with Art? You may also want to contact the bank’s lawyers. Aunt Max said one couple was making noises about lawsuits. Give them a heads up.”