Shades of Midnight (31 page)

"Why?" Katherine asked bluntly.

Garrick lifted his chin. "In case I needed to fight him off, or something."

"You don't actually fight ghosts," Lucien said.

"Oh. I didn't know."

"And we won't be handling Katherine's husband tonight." Lucien cast a quick glance at the widow. "Unless the situation is urgent."

She shook her head. "No."

They had gradually formed a circle, the six of them there on the main street. Daisy leaned in a bit, as if that circle of friends offered some privacy. "Lucien and Eve have their own ghosts to worry about."

"Daisy!" Eve said. "That's a secret."

"I know that," Daisy said. "But after all, this is the Plummerville Ghost Society." She waved her hand dismissively. "It's
our
secret."

"The Stampers," Garrick said, nodding his head. "I've heard all about them. My mother knew Viola before she moved to Plummerville, though to hear her speak I assume they were not the best of friends."

"I've never met your mother," Eve said thoughtfully, wondering what kind of woman was married to the short-tempered Douglas Hunt.

"She keeps to the house," Garrick said. "Mother hasn't been well since I was born, so she stays in bed most of the time. I don't think she's left her room at all in more than ten years. She likes things to be orderly and quiet." He glanced up and down the street. "A gathering like this one would certainly send her into some kind of fit."

"But you say she knew Viola?"

"That's what I understand." His brow wrinkled. "I remember her and my father talking about Viola Stamper, years ago. When I asked who she was, they said she was an old friend of the family."

"Your mama might know something about Eve's ghosts, don't you think?" Buster said in a low voice.

"What could she possibly know?" Garrick asked.

Eve took a deep breath and lifted a silencing hand. "It is unlikely," she said. "But I think we need to spend this afternoon considering every possibility."

"Eve," Lucien warned softly.

"Well, since the secret is out, we might as well band together and get this done."

"Evie!" Lucien snapped.

She took his hand and gently squeezed it. "It's okay. This might be just the break we need." She looked at each one of the eager people before her in turn. "Something is missing."

"What?" Daisy whispered.

"I'm not sure. I don't know everything about Viola and Alistair's life together, I know nothing about Viola's life before she came to Plummerville, and we certainly don't know who killed them."

"I thought he stabbed her," Katherine said, "and then he killed himself. That's what I always heard."

"That's wrong," Eve insisted. "So put it out of your mind. That false belief has kept anyone from even looking for the killer for thirty years." She thought quickly as she gave each of the society members their instructions. Would it work? Maybe. Maybe not. But four eager sleuths took off to interview someone who had known the Stampers.

When they were gone, Lucien took her hand again. Judging by the expression on his face, he did not approve of her new plan. "What makes you think they can uncover information you could not?"

"They're natives of Plummerville, each and every one of them. It might make a difference, when they start asking questions." She patted his arm.

"I just don't think it wise to send those amateurs out to question a possible murderer."

She had never considered that what she'd asked of her friends might be dangerous. "Oh, dear. Should I try to round them up and call it all off? I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"It's too late, I imagine," Lucien said. "Even if you did try to call them off, I doubt they would comply. The Plummerville Ghost Society is made up of a group of very stubborn folks."

"I wasn't thinking that they might get in trouble," Eve said, her eyes searching over his shoulder for a sign of her friends. Apparently she saw nothing. She bit her lower lip. "I just thought that maybe... maybe..."

"They should be fine," Lucien assured her. "We have so little information to go on, where the murder is concerned, there's not much chance that their questioning might stir up the murderer. If he's even still alive and in Plummerville."

Eve nodded. "I know. I wish they could uncover something, though. Something... helpful but not too dangerous."

"Does it really matter as much as we believe it does?" Lucien asked kindly. "Our purpose all along has been not to uncover a murderer, but to send your ghosts on. Alistair and Viola are free, now. She knows he didn't kill her, and that's what held them here."

"You
think,
" Eve said stubbornly. "We won't know for sure until tonight. Will we?"

"I suppose not." Lucien nodded, and even sighed in resignation. "I noticed you didn't ask any of your friends to speak to Reverend Younger."

Eve lifted her chin. "No. I plan to speak to him myself."

Lucien would never admit that he hated the idea, but she felt a tremble pass through his hand.

* * *

Like most preachers, the Reverend Younger didn't care for Halloween. But his mother, who had moved to Plummerville ten years ago after the death of her husband, and his wife, who had once been the most sought-after girl in town, were having a wonderful time.

Lucien didn't like Reverend Younger, but then he admitted to his own prejudice. He'd had too many run-ins with fire-and-brimstone preachers to have much use for this one.

Eve could be relentless, and when it came to Viola she was like a soldier, determined and unyielding. The Reverend Younger didn't have a chance.

"You know more than you're telling me," Eve said, leaning in close to the reverend.

Standing outside the general store, while his wife visited with neighbors and munched on pumpkin bread, the preacher went pale. "Let the past go, Miss Abernathy," he said. "Viola is gone and has been for many years." He glanced sharply at Lucien. Did he wonder if all he'd heard was true? Did he wonder if Lucien could truly talk to the dead? "Let her rest in peace."

Eve pursed her lips. She knew too well that Viola had not been resting in peace. "You said Viola wanted a child, and I know she went to desperate measures in order to have a baby."

Reverend Younger went so pale, Lucien wondered if he should move so he'd be in a position to catch the man, if he fainted.

"How do you know such a thing?" he whispered.

Eve glanced at Lucien, and he saw the surrender in her eyes. She'd given up on her desire for a normal life, thank goodness, but was she ready to tell all her friends and neighbors that her home was haunted? He nodded once, in encouragement. She knew how he felt about telling the truth, no matter what.

Eve turned her curious eyes to the reverend once again. "She told me."

The preacher blinked several times. "She... told you?"

"She came to me in a dream," Eve said softly.

All at once, a hint of color crept into the reverend's face. He breathed what could only be a sigh of relief. "A dream."

"Ghosts do visit the living in their dreams," Eve explained sensibly.

"I'm sure they do." The reverend regained his smug facade. "Miss Abernathy, anything Viola Stamper told me, no matter how long ago, no matter how important or insignificant, was confidential and will remain so. I suggest you turn your back on the notion that ghosts visit the living in their dreams." He gave Lucien a cutting glance. "Or in any other manner."

Eve was not discouraged. "I understand you and your wife married just months after the Stampers' deaths. Did she know Viola?" Eve glanced at the plump Alice Younger. "I've spoken to many people who knew Viola, but I never did speak to your wife. Perhaps today..."

"Leave my wife out of this," the reverend warned. "She doesn't know anything. She barely knew Viola Stamper."

Eve smiled, sensing that she had won a small victory. "I imagine you can tell me anything she would."

The reverend's lips thinned. "I imagine I could, but not here, Miss Abernathy. There are too many people about." He glanced at his wife and sighed. "My office in the church, at dusk." He shook his head. "Please think about what I said. I do hope that before that time arrives you will come to your senses and decide to leave the past in the past, where it belongs."

The reverend collected his wife and guided her well away from Eve and Lucien, pointing with enthusiasm at an elderly couple down the street.

Lucien took Eve's arm. "Well, I'd say he's anxious to get away from you, my dear."

"He knows something," she whispered. "Do you think he's the man Viola committed adultery with, hoping to have a child?"

"Perhaps."

Eve leaned in close and lowered her voice. "He definitely didn't want me speaking to his wife."

Lucien watched the children running on the street, children who played with a carefree abandon he had never known. "If the Reverend Younger did indeed lie with and then murder Viola Stamper, meeting with him at dusk is risky. Maybe you should leave that meeting to me."

She shook her head. "No. I'm going to question him, one more time. I don't want to go alone, though, so I'm hoping you'll be with me. And I imagine we should have Buster and Garrick posted close by, just in case."

"My life in the hands of a hick farmer and a grinning fool of a drunk."

"Garrick isn't drunk," Eve said softly. "Not today."

Lucien pulled Eve closer than was proper, since they were in public. He didn't care. Miss Gertrude had already branded him a scoundrel. The preacher was spreading word that he was a swindler. So what? He'd been called much worse.

"You are the most magnificent woman," he said.

Eve smiled up at him. Had she always been this beautiful? "And you..." she said softly, "you are definitely not ordinary."

"Disappointed? "

"Never."

"Then perhaps you'll allow me to question the reverend on my own."

She shook her head slowly. "Absolutely not." All around them, life went on. Children ran and laughed, women gossiped, men talked farming and business and horses. The day was bright and beautiful... and he saw only Evie.

"Once we're married, will you continue to be so relentless?"

Her grin was brilliant as she answered. "Yes."

Chapter 19

"Nothing," Katherine said in disgust. "Just when I thought Mrs. Melton might tell me something interesting about the Stampers, Gerald Porter came along and interrupted to ask us if we needed any yard work done." She sneered. "After that, the old woman clammed up. She was talking a mile a minute until Gerald stopped her and gave her time to think."

Five members of the Plummerville Ghost Society, everyone but their president, gathered in a quiet spot at the end of the street. Games continued all around them, but it was getting late in the afternoon and the air was cooler than it had been before. Almost time to meet with the Reverend Younger.

"Old Mr. Snyder, he claimed to remember the Stampers, but then he started acting very strange, like he didn't remember them at all." Daisy screwed up her nose. "My first assignment, and I failed miserably."

Lucien glanced at Buster, who just shrugged his shoulders to convey that he, too, had learned nothing.

Lucien was not disappointed, not really. He hadn't expected the amateurs to find anything. He suspected Eve was not overly disappointed. She'd been trying to keep her friends busy. Either that, or sending them out searching for information she'd missed had been a last desperate attempt to solve the mystery before the anniversary of the murders, tonight.

So far, the secret society was finding their work dull, not nearly as exciting as they'd expected. Soon after sharing their lack of information, they wandered off in three different directions. Perhaps they could enjoy what remained of the Halloween activities.

Lucien and Eve started walking toward the church, which awaited them at the opposite end of the street.

"Sorry," he said gently. Solving this particular haunting was important to Eve. More important than it should be. But Lucien knew, better than anyone, that when you got yourself involved with a restless spirit it was tough to let go until you'd done all you could to repair the damage life had done to them.