“It’s hush-hush. He’s trying to liquidate the asset before the banks reclaim it as theirs. It’s his last chance to get ahead of the mass of debt waiting for him.” Abraham blushed as though suddenly realising he was telling tales out of school. “He’s had it listed privately for months and that’s the last I’ll say on the matter.”
He turned his attention back to driving and soon they were pulling into the Pettigrew’s property.
“What do you want me to do?” Crystal asked, her voice clouded with worry as her eyes took in the scene. “I’m still unsure why you brought me here.”
“Because you’ve got a group of people out to lynch you for communicating with those who have passed on,” Emily said. “Something that I’ve decided to take personally. And you’re my friend with a good head on her shoulders and enough experience of the world to be hard to shock.”
“Really?” Crystal giggled. “You know, after meeting you I was tempted to throw myself in front of a car to see if I could get the same result as your accident.” She paused and tilted her head to one side, giving a large sigh. “I decided, in the end, it was more likely I’d end up joining the lands of the no-longer-living rather than being able to communicate with them.”
“I’m glad you didn’t chuck yourself into traffic.” Emily reached forward and squeezed her friend’s arm. “The world would be a far duller place without you around. Now, do you want to meet a poltergeist with a chip on her shoulder?”
Crystal’s face beamed as she met Emily’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Yes, please.”
After taking her on a quick tour of the damage, Emily and Crystal walked back outside to talk to Abraham who refused to enter the house.
“If we’re going to meet Mrs Pettigrew’s demands and rid the place of her restless spirit, then I’ll need you to fetch a few people here,” Emily said.
“Mr Pettigrew, I presume.” Abraham arched his left eyebrow in a wry gesture that set Emily’s heart aflutter.
Her fifty-two-year-old heart, she reminded herself. The man couldn’t be a shade over thirty-five.
“I’ll also need Sariah from the auction house to attend, and Dr Attica. Mrs Pettigrew needs answers before she’ll be able to move on, and they’re the people keeping them secret.”
Abraham nodded. “I can do that. It’ll be a tussle to get the latter two to come along, though. You might need to give me an hour.”
“That’ll be fine,” Emily assured him, looping her arm through Crystal’s. “We’ve got plenty of groundwork to lay out before we can start.”
When he’d gone, she turned to the medium. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when your story broke. It was selfish of me to stay away.”
Crystal opened her mouth, poised to wave away the apology, but Emily shook her arm. “No, don’t say it’s okay. It wasn’t. I’m only glad you were able to forgive me enough to come along today.”
The medium inclined her head. “But what are we going to do?”
“We’re going to stage an old-fashioned confrontation with all the suspects in order to unmask Mrs Pettigrew’s killer.”
The ghost appeared at Emily’s side, making her jump. “Please, dear. If you’re going to help find my murderer, the least you can do is call me Cynthia.”
“Okay, deal.” Another name flitted through Emily’s mind, the true name of the ghost standing before her. Mischief twinkled in her eyes for a second as she considered speaking the dreadful moniker aloud, then she bit down on her tongue to hold it still.
Perhaps earlier, it would have been okay. Now the ghost had become so strong, it could only end in disaster.
“Let’s go and visit Gregory,” Emily said, disengaging herself from Crystal to grab hold of the banister. “I can’t believe his father left him alone with all this happening inside the house.”
“Can’t you?” Cynthia floated effortlessly up the stairs, an act that triggered Emily’s jealousy. “Nathaniel’s biggest skill in life is ignoring anything unpleasant.”
“No wonder he let his company get into such a state.”
Crystal tittered nervously. “It’s so weird to hear you talk to somebody I can’t see.”
Cynthia grabbed hold of the vase sitting at the head of the staircase and waggled it from side to side. “What does she think of this, then?” she asked Emily. “Better?”
“Okay.” Apparently intuiting the ghost’s response from the movement of the object, Crystal hastened to add, “Since it looks like she means to do damage with that beautiful piece of china, I’ll put up with not knowing where she is.”
As Cynthia replaced the vase on the polished oak table, Emily frowned. She picked up the object and scrutinised its elegant curves. “This isn’t beautiful china. At least, not original. It’s a fake vase.” She turned to the ghost. “Did you know that?”
“It was real enough when I brought it.” Cynthia took it from her hands and turned it upside down, a grimace of distaste contorting her mouth. “You’re right. This is some low-level knock-off. I wonder what else the household has been selling out beneath me?”
Peanut leapt up the stairs, jumping up to place his paws high on Emily’s legs. “What’s your problem, kitty? Do you know who sold the original vase?”
It appeared the ghost cat was far more interested in being petted than finding out the fate of a piece of pottery.
“I think he likes you now more than he does me,” Cynthia complained with a pout. “It doesn’t seem very fair considering how much time I spent with him.”
“Short memory,” Emily said, then at Crystal’s raised eyebrows, explained, “We’re talking about the ghost cat.”
The medium burst out laughing. “That’s one inexpensive pet, for you.”
“Oh, yes,” Emily said, returning her smile. “Peanut is the lowest maintenance cat you’ll ever find.”
Hearing his name, Peanut rubbed up against her ankles, staring into her face. If Emily wasn’t mistaken, he now appeared younger than he had while staying with her. Death might have taken away his physical impact on the world, but it had restored his youth.
She glanced at Cynthia, wondering if her blemish-free complexion owed a debt of thanks to the grim reaper as well. Not that it mattered now, of course. There was a murderer to plan on catching and a young man’s safety to check. Emily bent to stroke the ghost cat once more, then walked along the landing, searching for Gregory’s room.
“It’s the one at the end of the hall,” Cynthia said with a note of remorse in her voice. “Please tell him I didn’t mean to scare him. I just needed to get everyone’s attention.”
“You certainly did that,” Emily said, unable to quell the note of respect.
She tapped on the door with one knuckle, not wanting to make too much noise if the poor boy was on edge. “Gregory? Are you in there? It’s Ms Curtis from the charity shop and a friend.”
For long minutes, there was no response. Emily was about to try again when she heard shuffling. Another minute passed, then the door swung a few centimetres inward. Gregory put an eye up to the slit.
Emily held her hands up, a gentle smile on her face. “We’re unarmed, I promise. We just wanted to check that you’re okay.” After a second’s though, she added, “Under the circumstances.”
“Is she gone?” the young man whispered. His hair stuck up in an unruly tangle and his skin was ashen.
“No. I’m afraid your stepmother won’t leave until she receives an answer to her questions.”
The bloodshot eyes blinked slowly. “What questions?”
“About how she died.”
Gregory stared at the carpet. After a moment’s pause, he opened the door wider, stepping out onto the landing. “I don’t understand. She fell down the stairs. Can’t you just tell her that?”
“She thinks there’s more to it.” Emily hesitated for a second, then added, “And so do we.”
His head was shaking even before she finished talking. “No. It’s the truth. The absolute truth. I sh
ould know.” He stopped, his mouth opening and closing as he gulped for air. “I’m the one who found her. There was a terrible racket, it sounded awful. By the time I reached Mummy, the stairs were covered in her blood.”
Gregory’s mouth twisted, and he tipped his head back, the twinkle of tears in his eyes. “I got it all over me as I tried to help her. When I pulled out my phone to call an ambulance, I couldn’t type the numbers because I smeared blood all over the screen.”
The tears flowed, gravity not enough of a force to stop them.
Cynthia snorted. “What an act. If I’d know he was this good at faking, I would’ve encouraged him into the theatre.”
Emily turned a hard face toward her, then shrugged. If her suspicions were correct, they should be able to use the ghost’s presence to prompt a confession from the gathered suspects. After laying her cards on the table, she hoped Crystal’s heightened skills at empathy would help her to pinpoint the culprit.
But there were a few more factors to get into play if she wanted to cure all ills with one performance. She hooked her arm through Gregory’s, leading him back downstairs, then turned to Crystal.
“Now, I just need to phone the press and let them know their favourite fake psychic is about to hold another séance. If we do manage to out a murderer today, it’d be good leverage to have the members of the press hanging onto every word!”
Chapter Twenty-Three
By the time Abraham returned, ferrying the required attendees, Emily and Crystal had set up the house to their satisfaction. Although there’d been no knocks on the door in response to Emily’s tip-off to the press, she had noticed a strange reflection from Mabel’s next-door window, as well as a couple of bushes moving out the back.
“Come in,” Crystal said in greeting to the new arrivals. She’d stripped off her jacket to show a long flowing dress, twinkling with sequins. Along with the large hoop-earrings that Cynthia had directed them to find in her old wardrobe, she looked even more like the charlatan psychic than she had when Emily first met her.
The guests and residents certainly looked askance at her outfit. Perfect. Set against the growing darkness, lit only by flickering candlelight, the effect of an old-fashioned séance was complete.
“Mrs Pettigrew has asked that you assemble in the main hall,” Crystal said in a melodic voice. The initial effect might be jarring to the assembled family and friends, but Emily hoped it would soon become hypnotic.
“What does she mean?” Sariah asked in a pinched voice, glancing up at Nathaniel. “You don’t have your wife’s ashes in there, do you? ‘Cause I can tell you right now, that stuff creeps me out.”
“All will become clear, my dear,” Crystal intoned. “Please just follow me through and take a seat. We hope to resolve this situation as soon as possible.”
Dr Attica looked bemused. “I don’t know what this is all about, but I’ve been at work since eight this morning. It’d be nice if I got a few hours rest and recuperation before I have to get up tomorrow to do it all again.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll ensure you’re well-rested.”
Even Emily shivered at the strange menace hiding behind Crystal’s tone.
When the new arrivals were seated, Crystal gestured for Abraham, Hilda, and Gregory to join them. Emily perched on the last chair in the row, clear enough for Crystal to see her but not drawing attention to herself.
“I’ve gathered you here tonight at Mrs Pettigrew’s behest.” Crystal raised a hand on each side, palms facing the ceiling. “The spirit has been restless since her untimely death and will become even more so with time.”
“I don’t like this, Nate.”
“Silence!” Crystal shot a hand out toward Sariah and Cynthia followed her signal, sending a plate crashing against the wall above the auctioneer’s head. “This is a matter of life and death. Each one of you played a part in Mrs Pettigrew’s demise. Every person here has a case to answer.”
Sariah began to sob gently, triggering a smile of satisfaction to cross Cynthia’s face.
Nathaniel Pettigrew shifted on his seat, frowning at where Sariah’s hand grasped his arm for support. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My wife died in a tragic accident. Nobody is to blame except fate.”
“Thank you for volunteering,” Crystal said, walking close to the man until he jerked back in his seat. “We’ll start with the role you played. Would you care to explain the financial state of this household?”
“No,” Nathaniel said, standing and forcing Crystal back a step. “I would not. My financial situation is none of your business and I insist—”
Cynthia threw another plate. This time she didn’t aim at the wall behind him. It hit her husband in the centre of his chest, driving him back into his chair.
The man’s face flushed a dark crimson. “I don’t know what game—”
“This isn’t a game! This is a question of life and death. One person here knows the truth of what happened to Cynthia Pettigrew and it was no accident.”
“I’m leaving.” Nathaniel stood again, then hesitated as a plate floated in mid-air before him. “Whatever system you’ve got rigged up here won’t impress me. I read about you in the papers. You’re a fake and a fraud and I don’t intend to listen to your rubbish for a minute longer.”
“Was it the divorce?”
Mr Pettigrew stood very still, swallowing so hard it was clearly audible in the hushed room.
“I don’t know—”
Crystal held a finger to her lips. “The prenup agreement must’ve seemed like such a good idea fifteen years ago. How were you to know that when it came time to pay it out, two million dollars would be enough to wipe out your entire fortune?”
He sat back down, legs shaking. “We weren’t getting a divorce.”
“Funny. That’s not what she said.” Crystal’s sing-song voice delivered the classic punch line in reverse. “Cynthia assures me that when you denied her the funds for a private operation, she asked for a divorce and you agreed.”
The medium tilted her head to one side, holding her forefinger up to her cheek this time, twirling it lightly in her dimple. “Did you think you’d be able to change her mind later? Were you so out of touch with your affairs you didn’t realise the settlement would erase your entire net worth?”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference except for the Inland Revenue and their joke of an assessment.” Nathaniel’s voice was low, but the fury was clear in his voice. “I had enough and spare to pay her to get out of my life. The idea of her leaving made me ecstatic. I would’ve asked her for a divorce years ago if it wasn’t for Gregory.”
The plate hit him in the crotch this time, avoiding damage by the reflective jerk of his hands.
“Yeah. That’s a Cynthia move all right.” Nathaniel’s face screwed up, and he grabbed hold of Sariah’s hand, holding it tight. “I didn’t care if paying out the prenup wiped out my company and my assets. When I was twenty, I started off with nothing more than an idea and a hundred-dollar overdraught in my bank account. I built myself up out of nothing before. I’m not scared to do it again.”
“You’ve been scared enough to sell off the treasures in this household, replacing them with fakes.” Crystal raised her hands to each side again, opening her body up like a flower. “Is that how you got mixed up with this thief?”
Sariah flushed. “I’m not a thief.”
“You’ve filed false reports for the auction house.”
Emily stiffened as Crystal laid out the new accusation. Of all the information she’d stored up over the past few weeks, this was the stuff on the shakiest ground. To her credit, Cynthia appeared to realise this part of the trial was important to her. Crystal glasses smashed above the woman’s head twice as she hesitated in giving an answer.
The second crash spurred Sariah. She covered her ears with her hands and screamed. “It was only a few thousand here and there. The rich fools who bring in their boxes out of their dead mother’s attics don’t m
iss anything. I only used it to help out Nathaniel. It wasn’t for my personal gain.”
“You cheated the charity shop out of thousands. Do you think you deserve a free pass, stealing from the most disadvantaged members of our community to keep a roof over your rich lover’s head? He’s not even paying his staff.”
Emily shot a glance towards Hilda and Abraham, who both seemed happy with how the evening’s entertainment was proceeding.
“I didn’t know that! He told me the money was going towards his son’s drug recovery.”
Nathaniel flushed while Gregory appeared utterly nonplussed. “I don’t have a drug problem.”
Crystal swivelled on her heel, pointing her finger at his chest. “You certainly didn’t have a problem selling them to young men and women. What habit were you feeding if it wasn’t drugs?”
The young man sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “It wasn’t like it was meth or heroin. I just gave them a few pills to help them study if they needed it. No biggie.”
“Big enough to get you kicked out of school.”
Dr Attica was staring at Gregory so hard Emily expected laser beams to shoot out of his eyes. She caught Cynthia’s glance, and a cup went skidding along the floor to land at the doctor’s foot. A signal they’d worked out earlier. Crystal turned to the man.
“You were the one pressuring the boy to keep selling more pills, weren’t you? If it hadn’t been for your bad influence, he wouldn’t have lost his place at university.”
The doctor snorted, looking unperturbed. “You’re not blaming this on me. I prescribed the drugs to treat the boy’s symptoms. I do my due diligence but it’s not like I can run every young man or woman over the coals when they turn up with an obvious problem.”
“An obvious problem that you’re not qualified to diagnose. Or did you become a psychiatrist when the town wasn’t looking?”
Dr Attica crossed his arms, nostrils flaring as he turned his glare onto Crystal. “The boy already had a diagnosis from a psychiatrist. It’s on file at my office.”
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