Текст книги "A Fright to the Death"

Автор книги: Dawn Eastman

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

21

I am running through the snowy woods. The wind sucks the air from my lungs and snowflakes pelt my face, so I can’t see where I’m going. My heart races and I feel the panic rise in my chest. I’m looking for someone and getting more and more worried. I realize that I am lost. I can’t see the castle anymore and none of the trees look familiar. The snow is piling up so fast I can barely keep moving. My thin sweater doesn’t protect me from the cold and I am shivering.

Then I hear a weak cry. “Clyde . . .”

I run in the direction of the voice, then I hear it behind me—is it an echo? The sound is getting weaker. “Clyde . . .”

A gust of wind knocks me to my knees and I can’t breathe. Just as I fall into the snow on the forest floor I hear it again. “Clyde . . .”

I jerked awake in an unfamiliar bed and realized Vi was shaking my shoulder and saying my name.

“Clyde, wake up!”

I sat up quickly and still felt panicky from the dream.

“Vi, what is it?” I felt like I should have paid more attention to the dream. Something was wrong.

“I think I heard a noise in the hall,” she said. She pulled her fluffy robe tightly across her chest. Her hair was in a braid, but pieces had come loose while she was asleep. Her brows drew together and she looked every one of her seventy-three years.

“It’s a hotel, Vi. It’s probably someone going to their room.” I rolled away from her and pulled the covers over my head, trying to get warm and slow my heartbeat.

“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” Vi said. “This isn’t a party cruise. Everyone is asleep.”

Grumbling, I swung my legs over the edge and clicked on the lamp by my bed. I stood and walked to the door, cracked it open, and listened. There was a cold draft in the hall. I stepped into the darkened hallway with Vi. I was about to head downstairs to see where the draft originated when a door banged shut. The cold air stopped abruptly and I realized that the slamming door was in the turret room.

Vi grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the turret stairs. “It came from up there.”

We started to climb the stairs and then a low moaning sound began and increased to a shrill shriek.

“It’s the ghost!” Vi said. Her bony fingers dug into my upper arm and she slipped behind me on the stairs but I felt her pushing me upward.

“It’s not a ghost,” I said. I gripped the banister tightly and willed myself to continue up the stairs.

“Then what’s that noise?”

“It must be the wind,” I told her and tried to sound brave and not at all freaked out.

We made it to the closed door at the top. The noise was coming from inside the turret room.

I looked at Vi, took a deep breath, and turned the knob.

The door didn’t swing easily open, but as soon as I pushed it a few inches, the noise stopped. Just as we were about to step into the room, the white cat rushed out just like the night before when we had found Clarissa.

“She’s really spooked about something,” Vi said as we watched her race down the steps.

Inside, the room was frigid. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and spun to confront it. White filmy curtains billowed in the wind. Both windows were fully open and snow blew in onto the carpet.

Vi and I rushed forward to slam the sashes shut.

“What’s going on?” Isabel said from the doorway.

We turned quickly to see Isabel and Jessica standing just inside the room.

“We heard noises up here and came to investigate,” Vi said.

“Someone opened the windows, and the wind shut the door and trapped the cat,” I said.

Isabel and Jessica exchanged a look and they both relaxed.

“Mavis is downstairs in a state of high anxiety,” Isabel said.

“She claims she saw a ghost,” Jessica said.

“Mavis saw the ghost?” Vi sounded disappointed that we had only found a cat.

“She pounded on my door a few minutes ago,” Isabel said. “I had her wait in my room with Selma while I went to find Jessica.”

“It was so cold in the hallway,” Jessica said. “I checked all the doors to be sure they were locked and closed and then, while we were reassuring Mavis that everything was fine, the cat streaked past the doorway and downstairs into the lounge.”

“Why was she wandering the halls in the middle of the night?” Vi demanded.

Isabel’s lips thinned. “She claims she heard a noise in the hall.”

“What did Mavis see?” I asked.

“It’s not clear,” said Isabel. “She thought she saw someone walking down the stairs wearing a white old-fashioned nightgown, but when Mavis called to the person she just kept walking and then seemed to disappear.”

“Let’s go down and talk to her,” I said.

Every door was open and the knitters were milling about talking to Mac when we arrived back in the hallway. He was in plaid drawstring pants and an old Michigan State T-shirt. His hair was rumpled and he didn’t look happy at being dragged from his bed for a ghost sighting. Lucille stood next to him in a deep green quilted satin dressing gown. Her spiky hair was a bit lopsided and she looked more fascinated than annoyed.

“Phillip, I think you should go down there and check things out,” Lucille said. “I’m sure we’d all sleep better knowing there isn’t a ghost roaming the halls.”

Mac ran his fingers through his hair, making it look almost as spiky as his mother’s.

“We’ll go with you,” Vi said as we approached.

Mac turned and I saw relief and annoyance flash across his face.

“There’s no ghost,” Mac said. “I don’t know how to prove the castle is safe from something that doesn’t exist.”

Vi gave him a pitying look.

“We can go downstairs and check for cold spots,” Vi said in a tone that should be reserved for kindergartners. “If there was a ghost, there will be cold spots.”

“I think the whole castle is a cold spot, Vi,” I said. “The window let in enough cold air for twenty ghosts.”

Vi sighed. “You’re probably right. It’s not like we’ll be able to tell the difference between regular cold and ghost cold now. Whoever opened the window was pretty clever.”

“Do you think the ghost opened the window?” Lucille asked.

Vi considered this and then shook her head. Mac and I exchanged a “how did we get here” look.

“I doubt the ghost would have messed with the windows,” Vi said. “It usually just walks the halls or looks out the window. Isn’t that right, Jessica?”

Jessica drew in a sharp breath at being pulled into the ghost discussion.

“I don’t know, Ms. Greer,” Jessica said. “I’m not a ghost expert.”

“Obviously,” Vi said. “But you know the stories about your ghost. Has it ever opened the windows before?”

Jessica shook her head, and took a step closer to Isabel.

“It’s too bad we can’t get some ghost hunters out here with the storm and all.” Vi stroked her chin in an exaggerated gesture of thinking.

“I think it would be more useful to get the police out here,” I said.

“They won’t be any better at dealing with this than you and Phillip,” Lucille said.

Mac held up his hands and I saw his cheek muscles twitch.

“Look, Clyde and I will go downstairs and check out the whole ground floor,” he said. “Jessica and Isabel, maybe you can calm Mavis and Selma and get them back to their room.” Mac turned to Tina, Heather, and Amy. “If you wouldn’t mind returning to your rooms, we’ll take care of it from here.”

Heather and Amy nodded. Tina narrowed her eyes at Mac and opened her mouth to speak, but Heather jabbed her in the ribs and pulled her down the hall. I watched them go, wondering why Tina had an issue with Mac. She bristled every time he tried to take control of the crowd.

Isabel and Jessica nodded and ducked into Isabel’s room. Mac and I walked toward the stairs. I heard shuffling behind us. I stopped and Vi bumped into me.

“What?” she said. “Neither of you have any experience with ghosts. You’ll need me along to help deal with it.”

“What experience do you have?” I crossed my arms.

“I’ve done a lot of reading on the subject,” Vi said. “And I’ve talked to lots of ghost hunters.”

“Fine, Ms. Greer, you can come with us,” Mac said.

I twisted around to look at Mac and probably looked just as mutinous as Tina had. Vi grinned and we set off again for the stairway.

Even with the electricity back on, the sconces in the hallway had been dimmed for the evening and the three of us cast hazy shadows on the stairs as we descended. It was definitely spookier than during the daytime and I was glad I wasn’t alone. I took Mac’s hand and Vi slipped her arm through mine on the other side.

A thorough search of all the main-floor rooms yielded no ghosts. Everything was as it should be. The library was ready for the next day’s workshop, with yarn and needles laid out on the tables. I noticed striped scarves on all the statues in the reception area. That was new. Maybe the ghost had been doing some yarn bombing.

In the lounge, several of the decorative vases had been covered with neon jackets and knitted flowers nestled among the real ones.

“Maybe Mavis saw a yarn bomber,” I said. “That would explain why the person didn’t respond and then ran away.” I turned to Vi. “The whole point is to not get caught, right?”

Vi examined the knitted flower. “I think I know who did this one.”

She turned to us. “Linda must be feeling better.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“She makes these flowers,” Vi said.

“I didn’t know she was part of the conference,” I said.

Vi wandered the lounge inspecting the new yarn installations. “She comes when she can, in between whatever she has to do with the hotel. But she’s the one who started the workshops ten or so years ago. She’s a big knitter.”

Mac and I managed to drag Vi away from the knitting and back out into the hall.

The only place we hadn’t checked was the kitchen. We turned down the darkened hall that led to the staff entrance to the kitchen. There was a line of light under the door.

I pushed it open and we were all surprised to see Linda there at the stove stirring a small pan. A thin cord ran from her pale gray robe pocket to her ears and she seemed oblivious to our entrance.

She whirled around when we moved toward her and then quickly relaxed.

“Oh, you startled me!” she said and tugged the earbuds out of her ears.

“Sorry Mrs. Garrett,” Mac said. “We’re searching the area because Mavis Poulson thinks she saw a ghost.

Linda chuckled. “Mavis always did have a wild imagination. Where did she see the ghost, exactly?”

“She thought it came down the stairs about twenty minutes ago,” Vi said.

Linda shrugged. “She probably saw me.”

“It’s possible,” I said. “Did you come down the main stairs?”

She nodded. “I couldn’t sleep.” She stopped and blinked back tears. “I haven’t slept much since Clarissa died. I just can’t get the picture of her lying there, dead, out of my mind.” She gestured at the pot. “I thought some warm milk might help.”

“She says she called out to the ghost and it didn’t stop,” Mac said.

Linda pulled her iPod out and showed it to us. “I like to listen to Mozart when I can’t sleep.” She dropped it back in the pocket. “I wouldn’t have heard her with my earphones in. Plus, at three in the morning, I wouldn’t have been expecting to meet anyone in the hall.”

Mac and I exchanged a tired look.

“That’s probably exactly what happened,” Mac said.

We turned to go. As we reached the door, I stopped. “You weren’t in Clarissa’s room tonight, were you?”

“No. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go in there again,” Linda said. “Why?”

“Someone was there and they left both windows open.”

“That’s strange,” she said. “Why would anyone do that?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out,” Vi said. She flapped her hand as if it was already handled.

Mac sighed and held the door open for us.

He walked us back to our room in silence. We all seemed to be mulling over what we had discovered, which wasn’t much.

He gave me a quick kiss and said he’d see me for breakfast. It didn’t take long to fall asleep again and this time I didn’t dream at all.

22

After the ghost sighting, Saturday morning came too early. I rolled out of bed, and quietly opened the door. Mac and I had agreed to meet early again, before the knitters descended on the lounge. Wally approached Mac and me out of breath, but with a huge smile, as we walked downstairs.

“The phone lines are working!” he said.

“Fantastic,” Mac said. “Let’s call the police.”

We followed Wally out to the front desk. “I was going to call myself, but I thought you might want to talk to them.”

The old phone was ringing when we got to the counter. Wally pressed his lips together. “I plugged this old one in when the power went out. It’s been ringing off the hook—that’s how I knew it was working. Several of the guests received phone calls from family who were worried about them when the cell towers went down.”

Wally answered the phone, took a message, and hung up. He then took the phone off the hook and handed the receiver to Mac.

“Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll dial—we have to be quick before another call comes through.”

Mac nodded at him and Wally dialed.

From what I could glean by listening to his side of the conversation, it sounded like Mac was being put straight through to homicide. I began plotting how long we would likely have to stay after the police arrived.

Mac turned to Wally. “Let’s keep this between us for now,” he said. “I’m not sure how quickly they can get here with that tree blocking the road—there’s no need to raise everyone’s hopes.”

Wally nodded agreement. “I’ll just tell the rest of the guests when they come down that the phone is working in case they need to check in with family—it might limit the phone calls coming in,” Wally said.

We sat in the lounge while we waited for the dining room to open. The hours were later on the weekends and I was getting antsy without my caffeine.

“I’ll be glad when the police arrive and they can remove the body,” I said. “It’s creeping me out, knowing she’s outside in the shed.”

Mac nodded. “They’ll take over the investigation and maybe we can get out of here.”

“Should we write up what we know so far so we can turn it over to them?”

Mac pulled his notebook out of his back pocket and flipped it open. “It wouldn’t hurt.”

I scooted closer to him so we could read his notes together.

“Clarissa left the cocktail party at six thirty and we saw her arguing with Jessica in the hall.” Mac made a note.

“Isabel, Mavis, and Tina were all out of the dining room at some point before Clarissa’s body was found,” I said.

“And as far as staff members go, we can only rule out Wally.” Mac put a line through Wally’s name.

“By refusing to talk to us, Tina has guaranteed my suspicions. I don’t like it that she tried to cover up the fact she left the room.” I leaned back against the cushions. “It’s weird. How did she think she would get away with it? We were all there—someone was bound to remember that she had stepped out.”

“People don’t always make good choices.” Mac shook his head. “Maybe she’s scared. She hasn’t acted thrilled that we’re investigating.”

“I suppose.” I took Mac’s notebook and flipped a couple of pages. “Who had a motive?”

Mac ticked names off on his fingers. “Jessica and Linda had been fighting with Clarissa about the hotel. Mavis and Isabel hold a past tragedy against her. Holly was likely bullied and may have been afraid of losing her job.”

“What about Kirk?” I said. “He’s at the top of Dad’s list.”

“Incompetence isn’t a crime. We can’t forget René,” Mac added. “If Clarissa interfered with his plans for the restaurant.”

“At least we can give the police somewhere to start,” I said and handed his notebook back.

“They’ll probably want to do their own interviews,” Mac said. “I hope we can turn this over to them and head out before the weekend is over.”

“We probably can’t make it to Mexico at this point—where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere but here,” Mac mumbled as his mother waved from the doorway and headed in our direction.

“Hello, you two! Did you hear that the phones are back on?”

We nodded. “We just called the police to come and deal with Clarissa’s death,” Mac said.

“Oh. You won’t be working on it anymore?” Lucille said. “I’m surprised you can just walk away after all the time you’ve put into it so far.”

Secretly I had to agree with Lucille. Mac was like Baxter with a bone when it came to solving a murder.

“I don’t think I’ll have a choice, Mom. It’s not my case. I only stepped in because we were all stuck here. I’ll turn over all the information I have and let them get on with it.”

Lucille held his gaze for a moment. “We’ll see,” she said. She walked around the room to admire the newest yarn creations. The lounge had taken on a surreal character with all the brightly colored yarny things stashed everywhere.

“Do you think we could stay and finish what we started?” I whispered.

Mac turned to me. “Is that what you want?” he said, and a slow smile began.

“I hate to leave a case right in the middle. If they’ll let us continue, I think I’d like to see it through.”

Mac let out a breath and I saw his shoulders relax. “Me, too. I just feel bad that our vacation is ruined.”

“We’ll still take that trip—just later than we planned.”

Mac took my hand and squeezed. “Are you sure you want to leave police work? You obviously love it as much as I do.”

I pulled my hand away. “I love solving the puzzle—I don’t love the hierarchy and the paperwork and the hours.”

Mac waited. I was very aware of Lucille wandering through the room, examining the knitting. I lowered my voice.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to it after everything that has happened.”

“What will you do?”

I shrugged. I had hoped to avoid this conversation for a little while longer.

“Are you two coming in to breakfast?” Lucille said from the doorway.

I hopped up. “Yes, I’m starved.”

I took Mac’s hand and pulled him toward the door.

Mac and I walked to the dining room and I went straight for the tea. The buffet was more elaborate than before—apparently with electricity came homemade waffles.

We heard voices in the hall as we sat down with our plates loaded with waffles and whipped cream.

I recognized Vi’s voice first. She was telling the ghost story again. It got more and more lurid with each iteration. She entered the dining room with Seth. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open while Vi told her tale. He caught sight of Mac, Lucille, and me and raised his hand in greeting. The rest of the knitters followed and Mom and Dad took up the rear, holding hands.

Seth veered toward the buffet. Even a really good ghost story would not deter him from obtaining food. The noisy group swarmed the buffet and settled at tables in groups of four or five. Vi and Mom clattered their plates as they joined us.

“You were up early,” Vi said.

I nodded and suppressed a yawn.

“What’s the plan for today? Have you interviewed all the suspects?” Vi dumped half the cream pitcher into her coffee.

“This whole thing makes me very nervous,” said Mom. She leaned forward and glanced side to side. “There’s a murderer among us!”

Seth took a moment from his food to glance at Mom, but quickly went back to the task at hand.

Dad patted Mom’s hand. “It’s not like it’s a crazed lunatic. It sounds like this Clarissa had at least a couple of enemies.”

Dad must have heard the whole story from Mom and Vi.

“Baxter’s been acting really weird since we got here,” Seth said. “Usually Tuffy is the one who sits and shivers and acts scared.”

“Baxter’s been acting scared?” I said.

Seth took a gulp of milk and swallowed. “He’s just not himself. I guess I’d say he’s a little skittish. He doesn’t like my room in the cottage.”

“He ran right in there yesterday,” I said.

“I know, right?” Seth said. “Dogs are strange.” He shook his head and dumped more syrup on his waffles.

“I hope he’s not sick,” I said. I examined my plate. Suddenly I wasn’t hungry. I had gotten attached to the big lug. I didn’t know what I would do if anything happened to him.

Vi had been talking to Mac about her idea of opening a detective agency. He seemed to have lost his appetite as well. He pushed his plate away and sat back, looking a bit green.

“Isabel has a full day planned for us knitters,” Vi said to the rest of us. “I’m considering skipping her workshop on intarsia. I hate intarsia. It’s someone’s sick joke and actually takes all the fun of knitting and turns it into torture. That way I could help you and Mac.”

“What’s intarsia?” Seth asked.

I had been too late in my attempt to signal him to just let it go.

“It’s when you knit in multiple colors to make a design,” Mom said. “Like a letter, or a pattern.”

“Oh, like those sweaters Mrs. Weasley made in the Harry Potter books?”

“Yeah, but she used magical knitting needles and didn’t have to sit and read a chart and twist all the stitches and fix all the holes and weave in all the ends,” Vi said.

Mom smiled at Seth and leaned toward him. “It’s really not that bad.”

Vi huffed and turned her attention to Lucille. I noticed Mac kept his eyes on his plate and didn’t engage in the knitting conversation. I put my hand over his on the table.

“Do you like intarsia?” Vi asked Lucille.

“I’m more of a cables-and-lace kind of gal,” Lucille said.

Vi slapped her on the back. “I knew I liked you. Maybe we can get Isabel to skip the intarsia.”

“Given that her most recent pattern book is all intarsia, I doubt it,” Mom said and narrowed her eyes at Vi.

“So what’s with all the socks on the furniture?” Seth said after returning from his second trip to the buffet.

“That’s the yarn bombing. It’s a hoot!” Vi said.

“That reminds me, Violet,” Lucille said. “I brought a few items with me. Will Wally help me put them up?”

Vi shook her head. “No, you want Kirk. He’s got a ladder. Unless you want to bomb a low-lying area, which is fine but not as showy . . .”

“I’ll help, Mrs. McKenzie,” Seth said.

“Thank you, Seth.” Lucille smiled at him. They had become close over the past couple of months. Seth had moved in with me just before Thanksgiving, and Mac’s mother discovered that Seth would eat just about anything. The two of them bonded over her desire to bake and Seth’s desire to eat.

Mac put his hand on my back and whispered, “Ready to go?”

I nodded.

Mac pushed his chair back while gulping the last of his coffee. “Clyde and I have some work to do this morning. We’ll see you all at lunch.”

“I hope you’ll think about what I said, Phillip,” Lucille said as we stood.

Mac’s face turned a bit pink and he clamped his lips together. He gave her a curt nod, grabbed my hand, and pulled me toward the door.

“What was that about?” I said while jogging to keep up.

“You aren’t the only one with an interfering family,” Mac said.