The Diva Haunts the House (20 page)

He strode straight to the kitchen fireplace and tossed logs in with kindling.
Nina scowled at me. “Why do I feel like I’ve missed something?”
If she only knew. Nina was my best friend, and had I been Jen’s age, I probably would have pulled her aside and spewed the details of Mars’s kiss the night before. But in the light of day, that romantic moment seemed like something I had only dreamed and in any event was perhaps best left unmentioned.
A fire blazed by the time I poured coffee for everyone. I did a quick head count and decided paella was in order for the cold day. While Mars brought Humphrey up to speed about our late-night excursion and the attack on me, I watched chicken legs brown in a deep cast-iron pan. I added sausage slices, along with paprika for flavor, and set them aside when they were done. I poured the rice into the pan with golden yellow saffron and a sprinkling of oregano, and turned the mixture to coat the rice. Finally, I poured in clam juice and diced tomatoes and mixed in the sausage and chicken. I ladled the entire mixture into a baking dish, covered it, and slid it into the oven.
I joined Nina, Humphrey, and Mars at the kitchen table. In the company of my close friends, I dared to ask, “Mars, last night I got the feeling you knew something that you didn’t tell us.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Four kids saw things—things that appeared, things that went missing. One of those four seemed less spooked than the others. Plus, we caught a fifth person tearing out of the house, and we know that Heather was instrumental in the shenanigans. When I do the math, I’m hoping it doesn’t mean that Heather is really our boy Blake’s honey, and that the two of them are pulling some kind of cruel joke on Vegas.”
I was stunned. Heather had already proven her propensity for maliciousness, but it hadn’t occurred to me that Blake might be in on it, and that poor Vegas could be their target. What a sad and frightening notion. “If that’s the case, it would explain the appearance of the dead doll on our doorstep. I bet she left it there to scare Vegas.”
Nina poured herself another cup of coffee. “Gee, Blake seems like such a nice kid. However, if Mars’s theory is right, it would explain what he was doing in the alley the night of Patrick’s death. He probably knew Heather was babysitting, and paid her a visit to neck.”
“It doesn’t explain why he was wearing his vampire costume. It reflects on him poorly either way. Either he’s being mean to Vegas, or he killed Patrick.” I toyed with my coffee mug. “I’m thinking about sending Jen down to stay with my parents. It’s gotten too dangerous. I thought I could keep an eye on her, but last night she proved that was only my naive stupidity.”
Humphrey frowned and tapped his foot on the floor.
“Bad timing,” muttered Nina.
I didn’t understand what she meant until seconds later when Jen barreled up from behind me. She planted her fists on her hips. “You don’t mean that!”
I could barely bring myself to look at her face out of fear that I would cave in. “I do mean it. What if something had happened to you last night? Your parents trusted me to take care of you, and now there’s a killer on the loose who probably thinks we can identify him. You would be much safer with your grandparents.”
Vegas walked up to Jen and stood beside her like a warrior reinforcement. “We were fine! None of us was hurt or bitten by a vampire last night!”
I thought Jen might cry. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders from behind and rested her head against mine. “If I leave, there won’t be anyone to watch over
you
.”
Uh-uh
.
I wasn’t falling for that.
It also meant no birthday party with her friends.
Nina crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you know that several people, including me, saw Blake in the alley the night of Patrick’s death?”
“Blake!” Jen released me.
June settled at the table. “Oh my! He has such nice manners. I would never have thought it of him.”
Mars’s eyes widened in surprise. “Mom! I didn’t know you were here.”
“The girls and I have had the best time looking through Faye’s old things.”
Vegas glared at Nina. “You’re wrong. It must have been someone who looked like Blake.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” said Nina. “He was even wearing his vampire cape.”
Jen crossed one arm over her chest like Nina, but she held her elbow with her hand and used the other hand to tap her lips. “Verrrry interesting.”
I wanted to giggle at her dramatic sleuthing pose, but bit my lip.
“What do you know, Jen?” asked Humphrey.
“Blake wouldn’t do anything like that,” she said. “He’s . . . he’s cerebral, like you, Humphrey. Yet . . . there’s more going on than meets the eye, or he would have told Vegas and me about it.”
“I agree with Jen,” said Humphrey. “That’s why I’m here. I overheard a couple of cops talking about Blake this morning. He’s young, but he could have easily coaxed Patrick outside. Their theory was that he jumped on top of one of the hay bales, which would have given him a height advantage, and clamped something over Patrick’s nose to asphyxiate him.”
“The person who accosted me wasn’t standing on anything.”
Except for Humphrey, my friends didn’t do a very good job hiding their amusement.
“Sophie, I feel quite confident that Blake is endowed with sufficient height to attack you.” Humphrey’s deadpan seriousness brought the rest of them to laughter.
“No!” shouted Vegas, stomping her foot. “You know it couldn’t have been Blake.”
Humphrey drew back at her outburst. “I’m inclined to be of the same mind. I spent hours working with Blake on the haunted house. He’s not a killer.” He leaned toward me. “We have to help him.”
“Maybe that’s a good idea.” Nina stirred her coffee. “His mother certainly won’t be of any assistance to him. She’s been an oddball as long as I’ve known her. Afraid of her own shadow.”
“I can’t imagine it was the boy,” said Humphrey. “Most adults can’t figure out how to asphyxiate someone without leaving any marks on the body. It’s unlikely a child could be so clever.”
“But there
were
marks on the body—the vampire bite,” said Jen.
“He didn’t die from loss of blood, though,” explained Humphrey. “He died because he couldn’t get air.”
Jen’s little forehead wrinkled, and a tidal wave of guilt swept over me. She was entirely too young for this. Humphrey’s explanation had been simple and clinical, which was good, but I wondered if she and Vegas should be exposed to any of it.
Jen’s lips pulled tight, and she threw a doubtful glance at Vegas. “I’m sorry, Aunt Sophie. I’m really, really sorry, and I promise I’ll never sneak out or do anything like that again. Ever. Pinky-swear.” She held out her pinky and twined it with mine. “Now can I stay? Pleeease? I don’t want to miss out on the haunted house fun.” Her head bowed, she added, “Or my party.”
Mars rested his hand on top of mine. I thought Nina’s eyes might bug right out of her head. While I was debating how to extract my hand without hurting Mars’s feelings or drawing everyone else’s attention to the situation, Mars said, “Sophie, if we send the girls to stay with someone else, the killer will be convinced that they know something. They might even be in more danger from him. There’s safety in numbers. You’ll all be safer if you stay together. I can sleep over to protect you.”
Whoa!
I suspected I was the only person in the room who was shocked by his suggestion. “No, no, no. That’s not necessary. I think Jen was wrong about the killer leaving the dead doll. That must have been the work of Heather the Horrid.”
June interrupted me with a sly smile. “Don’t be so quick to turn Mars down. Remember, Viktor was able to take advantage of Peggy Zane when they were alone together.”
I slid my hand out from under Mars’s and leaped to my feet. “I have to make cornbread!” I preheated the other oven and slid a square cast-iron pan into it to warm so the cornbread would sizzle and form a crust when I poured in the batter. Glad that I could busy myself and hide my face, which burned from embarrassment and must have been the color of red wine, I stirred together cornmeal, tangy buttermilk, and a can of creamed corn.
Humphrey puffed up his chest. “I can take turns with Mars.”
Good heavens!
Surely Humphrey wasn’t serious? I finally looked at my friends.
Nina grinned at me, and it wasn’t a sweet I’m-your-concerned-friend grin, it was a sneaky this-is-going-to-be-hilarious smirk. “That’s settled then. One big sleepover. I’m in.”
I had to resist the urge to stick my tongue out at her. I poured the cornbread mixture into the hot pan and slid it back into the oven to bake. Looking for a reason not to return to my seat next to Mars, I checked the paella and added peas and shrimp while savoring the tempting aroma that wafted from the pot. But the food didn’t distract me for long. Jen sat on the window seat, stroking Mochie’s fur, and I couldn’t help worrying about her. Part of me yearned to ship her to safety. Was Mars right? Would the killer be misled into thinking Jen could identify him and had gone into hiding? She deserved a second chance, I reasoned, and I could always change my mind and cart her down to my parents’ home in the country. For now, I would keep a close eye on her.
I opened the cupboard and took down green majolicastyle plates from Portugal. When I ladled the paella onto them, the saffron color of the rice contrasted nicely with the green of the plates. Mars ticked me off by rising to assist me. When had he become so helpful? He graciously handed out the plates, along with forks, knives, and orange and green napkins imprinted with huge golden mums.
I slid the platter of cornbread squares onto the middle of the table, where everyone could help themselves. “I guess it would send the wrong message to shut down the haunted house.”
The cry that rose could probably be heard all the way down to the river.
“We’re sticking together.” Jen raised a piece of cornbread like it was a saber. “All for one and one for all.” She looked at me, her brow furrowed. “Right, Aunt Sophie?”
I picked up a piece of cornbread and mimicked her battle stance. “You bet!” I was in it up to my ears now.
June buttered a piece of cornbread. “I don’t know these people as well as you do, but I’m usually a good judge of character. Young Blake is a proper gentleman. He’s not a calculating killer. I’m all for tracking down the real killer to assist that young man.”
I had other reasons to uncover the killer—namely so I wouldn’t have to look over my shoulder every minute or worry about Jen’s safety. Plus it drove me nuts that everyone felt obligated to protect me. “Blake never made a secret of his hatred for Patrick. Don’t you think a twelve-year-old would be smart enough to keep those feelings private if he planned to murder someone?” I asked.
“Thirteen,” corrected Jen.
I continued with my train of thought. “I like Dash, but maybe he couldn’t deal with the divorce, and he killed Patrick out of jealousy. That’s a lot more likely.”
Vegas stared at her plate, her arms hanging limply by her sides.
“Don’t you like paella?” I asked.
She nodded and pushed it with her fork, but didn’t take a bite.
“We love paella!” said Mars. “Natasha won’t cook anything that comes out of one pan. Vegas and I sneak out for fun food. Don’t we, Vegas?”
“I just feel so terrible about Blake.” Vegas toyed with her spoon. “I don’t understand why he would have come here wearing his vampire costume. Why didn’t he mention it? He couldn’t have killed Patrick. I mean, he hated him and all, but he wouldn’t have killed him. I wish we could do something to help him.”
“Can we help Blake, Aunt Sophie? You’ve been involved in murder investigations before. Couldn’t we please help him by finding the real killer?” asked Jen. “We’ll do whatever you tell us.”
Humphrey reached for cornbread. “I, for one, like young Blake. Jen’s quite right. He’s an insightful young man. Besides, there’s a question to be answered here. When we know the answer, we will know the identity of the killer.”
Everyone stopped eating and paid attention.
“The murderer went to lengths to make it appear that a vampire killed Patrick. Why?”
It was a good question.
“Publicity?” Humphrey looked at me.
I sagged. “Humphrey! You know me better than that. Staging a vampire bite is one thing, but killing someone? Oh please! This is the same thing the kids were talking about last night. I had nothing to do with it.” I raised my empty hand in protest. “In spite of whatever idiotic rumors might be on the Internet.”
“A person would have to be insane to murder someone for publicity for a haunted house.” Nina smacked Humphrey playfully.
“Suppose the killer wanted to cast suspicion on someone else?” Humphrey directed his reply to Nina.
“Wait a minute,” I cried. “Are you implying that someone killed Patrick to make me look guilty? That’s crazy. Besides, I only met him one time.”
“Exactly.” Nina smiled smugly. “You see, Humphrey, you may think you’ve got this figured out, but what you’re saying makes no sense.”
Humphrey didn’t seem convinced. “Really? You tell me why the killer would go to those extremes.”
Nina answered testily. “Why would someone carve a mark in a victim’s skin or take a memento? Killers are nuts.”
“By definition, really,” said Humphrey. “However, I seriously doubt that we have a deranged vampire killer running through the streets of Old Town.”
June leaned toward me. “Even if it’s not a demented wild man, it’s someone very dangerous, and someone in our midst. I warned Mars to be careful because the killer is most likely on his guest list. I don’t know what possessed the murderer to go after Patrick, but he’s clearly a troubled person and not above doing it again. I certainly hope the police have better leads than a little boy.” She pushed back her platinum gray hair, checking her chignon with her fingers. “Sophie, dear, I had such fun going through Faye’s things this morning. She certainly knew how to have fun, especially on Halloween.”

Other books

The Puzzler's Mansion by Eric Berlin
Destined to Succeed by Lisa M. Harley
The Daughters of Mars by Thomas Keneally
Deadly Is the Kiss by Rhyannon Byrd
Mated by Ria Candro
Spiral by Paul Mceuen
The Shield of Darius by Allen Kent
King Arthur Collection by Sir Thomas Malory, Lord Alfred Tennyson, Maude Radford Warren, Sir James Knowles, Mark Twain, Maplewood Books