For Maureen, the most important aspect of all of these revelations was that with the arrests of Elizabeth and the Morgans, she was no longer a suspect in Conrad Wilson’s death—and, not so incidentally, neither was Ted. She was free to pursue her plans for improving the Haven House Inn—including promoting the dining room as well as updating the general appearance of the place—and some of these welcome happenings had taken place in time for Haven’s Halloween celebration.
With carpets newly shampooed, windows sparkling clean inside and out, and new pale green draperies replacing the heavy fern-patterned ones, the dining room ambiance was much improved. Maureen had indulged herself in de-pinking her own bathroom—with pale gray walls and navy accessories. She’d also replaced all of the inn’s old-style light bulbs.
She hadn’t taken time to buy a costume, and Lorna’s island girl getup was certainly out of the question. Penelope Josephine Gray’s costume was still in the dry cleaner’s bag, hanging in the now-ghost-free closet in suite twenty-seven. “I remember it,” Ted told Maureen. “She called it ‘Queen of the Night.’ It was really pretty. At least try it on.”
Ted was right. It was pretty, tight bodiced and full skirted, and sequin stars seemed to float within layers of soft organza in blues and blacks. The wand that George had described was silver, tipped with a golden crescent moon. A silver-and-crystal tiara completed the look.
Maureen modeled it for Lorna. “It looks as if it was made for you,” the spirit declared. “If I wasn’t wearing Glinda the Good Witch’s ball gown, I’d be jealous.”
The appraisal of the contents of the warehouse was well underway. Mr. Crenshaw had already separated what he referred to as “the wheat from the chaff.” Most of Penelope’s hoard had fallen into the “chaff” category, but it wasn’t entirely worthless. Hundreds of beach towels, boxes full of beach toys, assorted articles of clothing, sneakers, sandals, sunglasses, and flip-flops were all deemed salable. Some of the suitcases were of good quality, but Maureen was disappointed to find that the cases marked MR. AND MRS. JOHN SMITH were empty—apparently Trent’s parents had used them as props for their illicit rendezvous. Kids’ toys and games, along with assorted holiday decorations, proved to be a good source of “wheat.” There were several vintage Barbie dolls, a few desirable Matchbox cars, and some wonderful Christmas decorations dating back to the 1940s. The guest registers on the top shelf of the bedroom closet—with all those famous signatures—proved to be so valuable that several museums were bidding on them. All in all, it appeared to Maureen that selling the hoard would not only free up the money being paid for the rental of the locker but also easily pay for painting the outside of the inn.
“We have a long way to go before Haven House Inn becomes a paying proposition,” Maureen told Ted as they studied the menu for that night’s Halloween celebration. “But I’m glad we can at least keep our favorite four old-timers on the payroll.”
“Naming the suites for the famous guests who’ve slept in them was a brilliant idea,” he said. “Jake’s article on Haven House says that the proposed Babe Ruth suite already has reservation requests.”
“True,” Maureen agreed. “And the Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz one does too. Speaking of names, we need to come up with a new name for Elizabeth’s.”
“Later,” he said. “Right now, we have a full house for tonight.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Mostly ghost hunters,” he said.
“Afraid so,” she agreed. “There’s probably no way to get around it. Haven has its ghosts.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in them.”
“I didn’t.”
“What changed your mind?’ he asked.
“Maybe someday I’ll tell you all about it,” she said, “but for now, I’m going to put on my Queen of the Night costume and mingle with the guests. See you at the party.”
Maybe someday I will tell him about Lorna and John Smith and Crenshaw’s opera singer and the rowdy bunch of ghosts who gather at the L&M Bar, Maureen thought as she climbed the stairs to the penthouse, but not yet. And I’ve decided to tell Trent and Pierre what John Smith said. All of it. Well, maybe not Lorna’s part in it. One ghost at a time may be all they can handle.
Finn, looking slightly embarrassed wearing a formal doggy tuxedo and bow tie, greeted her at the door. “Oh, Finn. You look so handsome,” she told him. The golden looked up at the almost-smirking cats, perched at the top of their tower. She’d tried to dress them in cute costumes too, but—catlike— they’d have none of it. “Never mind what they say,” she told him. “They’re just jealous because we’re going to the party tonight and they aren’t.”
Finn followed her through the kitchen and into her bedroom, where the costume hung on the closet door. “I guess this’ll be a tradition,” she said. “I’ll wear it every Halloween, and the rest of the time I’ll keep it in the closet in suite twenty-seven, along with that mysterious picture of me that Penelope had, and the framed pictures of famous guests I’m going to use in redecorated suites, and the Halloween candy buckets.” The golden tilted his head to one side. “You know, if we gather up enough stuff, enough information, maybe someday we’ll figure out why Penelope Josephine Gray gave us this place.” Finn tilted his head to the opposite side. “Yeah, I know. I’m starting my own hoard, aren’t I? Never mind. I know what I’m doing. I promise, it’ll never get out of hand.”
With a message from the dead
On a journey you’ve been led.
Another message from a stranger
Holds an answer, comes with danger.
A riddle, a puzzle in plain sight.
An answer, a vision in black and white.
You’ll know the where but not the why.
Beware the place one comes to die.
ZOLTAR KNOWS ALL
“Maybe I’ll put that Zoltar card in the closet too,” she told Finn. She tossed her lucky coin in the air, caught it, smiled, and zipped herself into Penelope Josephine Gray’s Halloween costume. At that moment, the future looked good. “We’re going to be just fine, Finn,” she promised.
“Woof,” the golden agreed.
There was a tiny ding from the push bell, followed by a silvery laugh and a whispered, “We’ll see.”
Acknowledgments
First of all, thanks to the friendly ghost who haunted a house I once lived in in Gloucester, Massachusetts, and made me a believer.
Several of Florida’s off-the-beaten-path, blessedly preserved small towns inspired my fictional locale of Haven. Thank you, Florida, for keeping it real—with a special nod to Cathy Salustri for her book Backroads of Paradise: A Journey to Rediscover Old Florida.
RECIPES
MOLLY’S APPLE-RAISIN PIE
1 recipe plain two-crust pastry
For the Filling:
⅔ cup raisins
6 tablespoons water
½ teaspoon lemon juice
¼ cup light corn syrup (Karo)
1½ teaspoons all-purpose flour
1½ teaspoons sugar
2 tart apples (Granny Smith)
¼ cup brown sugar
½ cup sugar
¼ teaspoon cinnamon
½ teaspoon ground nutmeg
1½ teaspoons cornstarch
For the Icing (Optional):
1 cup powdered sugar
2 tablespoons water
1 tablespoon butter, softened
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F and line a 9-inch pie pan with a rolled-out crust. To make the raisin filling put raisins, water, and lemon juice into a heavy saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat to medium low, and cook, stirring occasionally until raisons are plump (about 15 minutes). Separately combine the corn syrup, flour, and sugar. Mix well, then add to the raisins and continue cooking and stirring occasionally until thick and syrupy (about 20 minutes). Remove from heat and cool until just warm.
Peel the apples, cut them into thin wedges, and pour them into a la
rge bowl. Separately, combine the sugars, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cornstarch, then add to the apples and stir until evenly coated. Spread the apple mixture in an even layer into the first rolled-out crust; then spread the raisin mixture over the apples.
Brush the rim of the crust with water, cover with the second rolled-out crust, seal, and flute the edges. Cut several slits on top. Bake for 40 to 50 minutes, until golden brown. Cool on a wire rack.
For the frosting, mix sugar and water and add butter. Mix until smooth and spread over cooled pie before serving.
ASTER’S SHORTBREAD COOKIES
½ cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1 cup softened butter
2½ cups sifted all-purpose flour
Mix the sugar and softened butter together thoroughly with hands. Stir in the flour and mix some more. Chill the dough for at least one hour. Roll it out to ⅓ to ½ inch thick. Cut into rounds. (Aster always makes her cookies round because that’s the way Peter liked them, but she says you can cut yours into any shape you like. Leaves, ovals, squares, whatever.)
Place the rounds onto an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 300 degrees F (slow oven) for 20 to 25 minutes. The tops do not brown during baking, nor does the shape of the cookies change. The recipe makes about two dozen 1 inch x 1½ inch crisp, thick, buttery cookies.
TED’S BLACKENED GROUPER
(It would be nice to say that Ted invented this recipe, but it’s really from the late, great Pappas’ Restaurant in Tarpon Springs, Florida.)
Use a 2-pound fresh grouper fillet, preferably ¾ to 1 inch thick. Salt and pepper to taste.
For the Blackened Grouper Sauce Mixture:
2 tablespoons finely chopped garlic
1½ tablespoons finely chopped fresh parsley
1 tablespoon Lea & Perrins Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon dry basil
1 teaspoon oregano
¼ teaspoon thyme
½ teaspoon cayenne
3 ounces fresh lemon juice
2 teaspoons salt
4 ounces drawn melted butter
Mix all ingredients in blender, except for butter. Blend at medium speed for 20 seconds. After blending, mix with butter, place in 10-ounce jar with lid, and shake.
Ted cooks his grouper in a very hot skillet (cast iron is the very best). You can use either a grill or a skillet heated to 450 to 500 degrees F. Pour a thin layer of the sauce on the preheated skillet. Lay fish on top of sauce immediately. Then add more sauce on fillet as it cooks. Allow to cook about 5 minutes, depending on thickness of fish. Then turn fillet over and repeat with more sauce.
Grouper blackens as it cooks and may create a lot of smoke. Be sure it is done throughout.
LATE CHECKOUT
A dead ballplayer means foul play in Salem . . .
Field reporter Lee Barrett is not happy that her hours are being cut back at WICH-TV, although it is nice to spend more time volunteering with Aunt Ibby, a research librarian at Salem’s main branch. But Lee’s least favorite task is going up to the stacks, a spooky, seldom-frequented upper section of the library. On this day she has good reason to be afraid—she finds a dead man, surrounded by hundreds of scattered books and torn-out pages.
Her police detective beau, Pete Mondello, is soon on the scene, and the deceased is identified as a former minor league baseball player—and ex-con—named Wee Willie Wallace, who hasn’t been seen in Salem for twenty years. With help from her friend River’s Tarot reading, her clairvoyant cat O’Ryan, and Lee’s own psychic gifts, she steps up to the plate to catch the killer who took the old ballplayer out of the game . . .
MURDER, TAKE TWO
When a copycat killer has reporter Lee Barrett brushing up on ancient history, it’s a test where failure could be lethal . . .
As a Salem, Massachusetts native, WICH-TV field reporter and amateur sleuth Lee Barrett is well versed in the region’s lore. So when the murder of revered local professor Samuel Bond resembles a killing from almost two centuries ago, everyone is on edge. Especially assistant professor Cody McGinnis . . .
Not only did Cody have differences with Bond, he even taught a course on the historic murder. And when his fingerprints and ladder are found at the crime scene, the police are certain of his guilt. Cody’s family, however, believes otherwise and asks Lee for assistance. Now, with the help of her clairvoyant cat, O’Ryan, her tech-savvy librarian aunt and housemate Ibby, and Pete Mondello, her handsome detective beau, Lee will delve deeper than ever into Salem’s past—and into her own psychic gifts—to find the real killer—before someone else is history . . .
Be My Ghost Page 25