by J. B. Lynn
“You survived the night,” Rupert said as soon as she reached the bottom step.
“I didn’t get much sleep,” she told him with a yawn. She shuffled over to the velvet chair and sank down into it, feeling more tired than she had in a long time. Nutmeg curled up at her feet.
“It was exhausting with all those people in here last night,” she told the ghost.
He crossed his legs and floated in a sitting position so that he was eye level with her.
“I thought it had pretty good energy,” he said. “Everybody was getting along; they were worried about you.”
She nodded. “It was really nice of everybody to come by, but I felt so much more than I normally do of how people are feeling, it’s overwhelming.”
Rupert nodded and looked at her thoughtfully. “Interesting.”
“What is?”
“How you and your sisters are coming into your powers. First Bea, then Winnie, now you.”
“Well, I’ve been able to see you for a while,” she reminded him.
“But I don’t think that’s your power,” Rupert said slowly.
“What do you think is?” Amanda asked, leaning forward curiously.
“It must have to do with how people feel,” he said.
Amanda nodded slowly. It was in her nature to deny that she was good at almost anything, so it felt weird to admit she had a power. “You’d think,” she complained, “that since we all have these powers, that between us, we’d be able to figure out what happened to Letty, and what she buried, and who ordered her death.”
“The universe works on a different schedule than man,” Rupert told her.
Amanda threw back her head and laughed. “Where did you hear that? Harmony?”
He shrugged. “Experience.”
Amanda grew serious and studied his face. “How long have you been here?” she asked.
“You mean, how long have I been haunting this place?” he asked.
She knew from his tone; he was trying to insert levity into a topic that was very serious. Instead of responding, she waited for him to say more.
He sighed heavily and stared off into space, as though he was doing the computing. “Thirty-seven years.”
Amanda gasped. “That’s terrible.”
He shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“Have you stayed to watch over your painting?” she asked, referencing the painting that he’d done that was now on the ceiling of what was now Ash’s shop.
He shook his head. “I told you once,” he reminded her. “I’m waiting.”
“For what?” she asked.
Pursing his lips together, he shook his head and looked away.
Instinctively, she knew she wasn’t going to get any more information out of him. The ghost did not like to give up his secrets.
She yawned again. “I have got to get some rest somehow,” she muttered.
“Maybe you should go back to bed,” a small voice piped up. She looked in the direction of the small toy black sheep, perched on the bookshelf.
“Maybe,” she responded doubtfully.
“Perhaps you should nap in the chair,” Angus rumbled in his Scottish brogue.
That actually made more sense, but Amanda was not enthused about the idea of finding herself in agreement with an ashtray holder. She slowly got to her feet. “Maybe I just need some coffee.”
Nutmeg trotted hopefully over to the door, as though he knew she was getting ready to go out.
“I can’t,” she told him. “I can’t leave Winnie asleep alone upstairs.”
“She’s not really alone,” Rupert said, “I’m here, Pim is here, Angus is here.”
“And none of you are capable of waking her if there’s danger,” Amanda pointed out.
“So, wake her,” Rupert said.
Amanda shook her head. Instead, she strolled over to the bookcase, examining the titles. It was a strange collection that included religious books and car repair manuals, interspersed with dog-eared novels. “We should get this organized,” she murmured to herself.
Reaching up to the top shelf, she pulled down a book with a cover that was so old and tattered that she couldn’t make out the title printed on it.
“Amanda?” Winnie yelled from upstairs, a slightly panicked tone in her voice.
“Down here,” Amanda said. Tucking the book under her arm, she moved over to the base of the stairs.
Nutmeg ran up them to greet Winnie.
“Everything okay?” Winnie asked.
“I just couldn’t sleep,” Amanda answered. “I was just going to go get coffee, I’ll lock the door behind me, okay?”
“Get me one, too?”
“You bet.” Amanda put the book down at the base of the stairs and moved toward the door. “Are you coming, Nutmeg?”
The dog raced down the stairs, yipping excitedly, and skittered to a halt in front of the door, waiting for Amanda to catch up. She put his leash on him and opened the door.
“And something to eat,” Winnie yelled from upstairs.
Amanda turned her head to yell back, “You bet.” Which is how she tripped.
Without looking where she was going, she stepped back out of the shop and fell. She didn’t fall on the hard ground, though; she fell on something sort of soft and malleable. Pushing her arms against it to get back up, she found herself face to face with the slack-jawed countenance of Peter Perkins. His skin had an almost waxy appearance, and his eyes were staring blindly ahead.
Amanda’s body knew before her mind caught up. He was dead.
16
Amanda’s scream scared Winnie half to death. There was no mistaking the terror in her older sister’s voice. Winnie raced down the steps of the apartment two at a time, toward the terrible sound.
“Arm yourself,” Pim yelled at her from the bookshelf where he was perched.
Thinking it was probably good advice, Winnie yanked open the jewelry case and grabbed the cutlass that Peabody had brought in to sell. Brandishing it in front of her, she charged out the front door.
She saw Perkins’ body, and at the last possible second, leapt over it like a deer jumping over the hood of a car.
When she landed, she spun back and noticed that Amanda had crawled away and was leaning against the wall, shaking.
“What happened?” Winnie asked, running to her side and dropping to her knees.
“I fell on a dead guy. I fell on a dead guy,” Amanda wailed.
Winnie glanced over at Perkins and, wondering if he was, in fact, dead, said, “Did you check?”
“Did I check what?” Amanda asked.
“If he’s dead.”
Amanda shook her head. “He felt dead.”
Winnie did not want to know what it meant that someone felt dead.
“I’ll call the police,” Winnie said, starting to straighten.
Amanda reached out and grabbed her wrist, tugging her closer to her. “Don’t leave me.”
Winnie looked at her older sister, her eyes wide, her skin pale, her breathing shallow. “It’s okay, Amanda,” she assured her. “You’re safe.”
“I just fell on a dead guy,” Amanda repeated, her breathing coming in jagged gasps. “How safe can I be?”
The door to Ash’s store flew open and he ran out, wearing only a pair of jeans. “What happened?” he asked, taking in Amanda and Winnie crouched on the ground.
Wordlessly, Winnie pointed at Perkins’ body.
“Did you kill him?” Ash asked.
Winnie shook her head, wondering why he’d think something like that, but then she realized that he was focused on the fact that she was clutching the blade in her hand. “Can you call the police?” she requested.
Ash nodded and raced back into his store, his bare feet slapping against the ground.
Winnie turned her attention back to Amanda, worried she’d pass out because of her hyperventilating. Her older sister was pressed against the wall, eyes wide, hugging her legs to her chest. For a moment, she didn’t
look forty; she looked four.
Nutmeg, his leash trailing behind him, trotted up to them and tilted his head, as though he couldn’t figure out why they were sitting on the ground.
“Can you tell me what happened,” Winnie asked gently.
Amanda shook her head and lowered her face into her arms, which were folded on top of her knees.
Bea, using just one crutch, came limping out of Ash’s shop.
“What happened?” she asked, looking past her sisters to the body lying in front of their store.
Winnie shrugged. “Amanda got a little spooked.”
She saw the disbelief in Bea’s eyes as she witnessed their trembling older sister. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything.
Winnie realized that Amanda’s scream must have woken up half the neighborhood, as the doors in the strip mall began to open and people in various states of dress, began to emerge.
Piper and Harmony, arm in arm, walked toward them quickly. “Do you need an ambulance?” Piper asked.
Winnie glanced at Perkins, who did, indeed, seem dead, and shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t suppose you want to find out if he has a pulse?”
Rena emerged from Ash’s shop, took one look at Perkins’ body, covered her mouth, and swayed weakly.
“Catch her,” Winnie ordered no one in particular.
Piper grabbed the young girl around the waist and led her back inside Ash’s store.
Harmony moved closer to them. “Death is at your doorstep,” she intoned in a trance-like voice.
“Duh,” Bea retorted sarcastically.
Reemerging from his shop, Ash announced, “The police are on their way.”
“Can you see if he’s dead?” Winnie asked.
Ash paled but slowly moved toward the body. “It’s not like I’m a medical professional or anything.”
“Just see if he has a pulse,” Bea urged.
“Have you ever tried to find a pulse on somebody?” Ash asked. “I can’t even do it when I know for sure they’re alive.”
“Then I certainly hope you can’t do it when they’re dead,” Bea said even more sarcastically.
As though frustrated by the bickering of the humans, Nutmeg walked up to Perkins’ face and began to sniff it.
“Is he dead?” Winnie asked, feeling ridiculous that she was actually asking a dog that question.
He whined.
Amanda gasped.
Winnie turned her attention back to her. “You’ve got to breathe, honey.”
Her older sister was staring at the dog with eyes wide.
“He’s not going to eat him,” Winnie assured her.
Amanda shook her head but seemed unwilling to use actual words to communicate what was actually going on with her.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
“I’m getting really tired of hearing that sound,” Bea said.
Winnie nodded. But she expected it wasn’t the last time they were going to hear them.
17
“My DNA is going to be on his body,” Amanda announced. She was sitting in the velvet chair, Bea was perched behind the cash register, and Winnie was pacing agitatedly while Tom Keller tried to conduct his interview.
Tom cocked his head to the side and looked at Amanda inquiringly. “Excuse me?”
“I read mysteries. My DNA is going to be all over his body,” Amanda said worriedly. “But I didn’t kill him.”
Tom ducked his head, and Amanda realized he was trying to hide a smile. “That’s good to know,” he murmured.
“This isn’t funny,” she told him. “It’s serious. I could be wrongfully convicted of murder.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Winnie said. “You have an alibi, you were with me.”
Tom wordlessly watched the two older Concordia sisters volley.
“Yes,” Amanda agreed. “But you were asleep. And I came down here long before you ever woke up.”
Winnie looked at the detective, shook her head in disgust, and said, “You do realize you just blew your own alibi, right?”
“She doesn’t need an alibi,” Bea piped up. “Does she, Detective?”
He shook his head slowly and answered in a noncommittal tone, “Not yet.”
“Not yet?” Winnie shrieked, turning on him. “What do you mean, not yet? My sister is not a murderer.”
Tom raised his hands defensively. “One, there are no signs of foul play immediately visible in Peter Perkins’ death, so it may be that nobody killed him. People do die of natural causes,” he told them sternly. “Two, I don’t believe your sister’s a murderer, either.”
“Well, thank goodness for small miracles,” Winnie huffed indignantly.
Tom sighed. “So, now can you just answer my question, and tell me what happened?” he asked Amanda.
She clasped a cup of hot tea that Piper had been kind enough to bring her. She didn’t know what kind it was, but the scent was soothing, and it felt good to hold the warm cup between her palms. She’d gone ice cold as soon as she’d touched the body, and felt like she needed to put on a winter coat, even though it was sweltering outside.
“I was going to get coffee for Winnie and myself, and I wasn’t looking. I had Nutmeg on the leash, and I tripped.” She shuddered at the memory. “I fell on a body,” she told him, not for the first time.
To his credit, if he was frustrated, he didn’t show it. Instead, he nodded sympathetically. “I understand how distressing that can be.”
“Really? Have you ever fallen on a body?”
Tom was unable to hide his grin as he shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”
“And then she screamed,” Winnie said, wanting to get the story out.
“It was a terrible scream,” Bea added. “We heard it at Ash’s place.”
“But you didn’t hear anything overnight or early in the morning?” Tom asked.
Winnie shook her head.
Amanda didn’t move at all.
“Amanda,” he prompted. “Did you hear something?”
“Don’t tell him,” Rupert warned from his place on the bookshelf.
Amanda glanced in his direction and realized it probably made her look guilty, her breaking eye contact with the detective, when he asked, “I need you to tell me the truth.”
“I heard a thud,” she admitted.
Rupert shook his head, shimmered and disappeared.
“A thud?” Tom repeated.
She nodded her head.
“And you didn’t wake me up?” Winnie asked, increasing the pace of her frenetic pacing.
“I thought it was just my imagination,” Amanda admitted. “I kept hearing weird things, but I don’t think most of them were real.” It wasn’t like she could tell them that she’d been trying to process all of the emotions that she’d absorbed from other people during the day before. They wouldn’t understand.
“And what did you do when you heard this thud?” Tom asked.
Amanda shook her head and looked away.
“Do we need a lawyer?” Winnie asked.
Tom groaned. “Are you asking for a lawyer, Amanda? Because if you are, we have to stop this discussion right now.”
She shook her head. “I got up. I came downstairs, and I looked outside,” she told him quietly.
Winnie let out a gasp. “Again, you didn’t wake me?”
Amanda shook her head.
“And then what,” Tom asked. He was watching her intently, as if trying to discern whether she was telling him the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
She shrugged. “I looked outside and I didn’t see anything. It never occurred to me to look down.”
He nodded and leaned back in his seat.
She’d told him the truth, but it hadn’t been the whole truth. Because there was no way she was going to tell Tom Keller that when she’d been up, Rupert had told her to go back to bed the second she’d got to the bottom of the stairs. That, in order to reassure her, he had floated out the door to
look and see if there was anybody out there she should be worried about. That Rupert, having gone outside, must have seen Peter Perkins lying in front of the door, and when he had come back inside, he hadn’t told her.
Amanda couldn’t tell the detective that. She couldn’t tell her sisters that. And until Rupert came back, she had no way of knowing why he had done that.
18
“Is our sister a suspect?” Bea asked Detective Keller.
He shook his head. “We don’t even know whether Perkins was murdered,” he repeated for what sounded like the umpteenth time.
“If he was murdered,” Winnie opined, “wouldn’t the prime suspect be Richardson since he employed him?”
Keller tilted his head to the side and looked at the middle Concordia sister sternly. “I understand that it’s your opinion that Perkins hired Richardson to kill your godmother,” he said. “But that has not been established as fact.”
Winnie shook her head. “Come on. Who else would have wanted Bruce Gold’s store burned down and Letty killed?”
Amanda gasped as Winnie said the words they’d all avoided voicing.
It hurt more than she would have expected, hearing the words Letty had been killed spoken by one of her sisters.
She leaned back into her chair, needing its support. She felt sick to her stomach suddenly, and the room started to spin.
“Amanda!” Winnie yelled sharply, pulling her out of the vortex of grief that was threatening to drown her.
Amanda blinked away her tears and sat up straight. She didn’t know whether what she was feeling was a delayed reaction to Letty’s death, or if it was being magnified by the sense of loss both her sisters were experiencing.
The bell over the door jangled, and Matt, the baker, entered, and Suzanne, of Killer Cupcakes, Cookies and Coffee, followed him inside.
“How long is this going to take?” the baker demanded to know.
Tom got to his feet and faced the other man, his expression neutral, but Amanda could sense the extreme dislike coming off of both men.
He wasn’t the only one, Nutmeg began to growl.