The Ghost and Mrs. Mewer (A Paws and Claws Mystery Book 2) (24 page)

She gazed at me in surprise. Eva set Mrs. Mewer gently on the sofa and crooked her forefinger at me. I followed her to her room.

She walked over to a recorder. “Listen to this.”

She switched it on, and I heard the usual static of an EVP. I shrugged. But then I heard it. Little more than a whisper.
“Eva. Evaaa!”

She played it again.
“Eva. Evaaa!”

Maybe it was because of Halloween. Maybe it was because I had been immersed in ghost lore all week. But the disembodied voice creeped me out. If there were such a thing as a ghost, that soft breathy voice, almost like a wind whispering in the trees, was how a ghost would sound. Goose bumps perked up on my arms.

“You’re the only one I can talk with about this, because you don’t believe in ghosts,” she said.

The past few days had loosened my conviction that ghosts didn’t exist. I had learned about a lot of tricks, but the book on Aunt Birdie’s table had opened the door in my mind just a crack, even if there were low frequency vibrations that we couldn’t feel. I laughed aloud on purpose to break the tension. “You’re the expert.”

“Mark thinks it’s real.” Eva strode to the sliding glass doors and looked outside. “It’s as though everything I knew for certain, all that was so clear to me has suddenly been turned upside down. Do you think it was Mallory?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Of course you don’t. It couldn’t be, that’s ridiculous. Would you listen to me? I’m no better than anyone else, allowing emotions to cloud my judgment. It’s impossible that Mallory would have come to me as an orb when she died. Or that this could be her.”

“I did see her in the mirror.”

Eva turned around. “Mark thinks Mallory is haunting me.”

Haunting? The mere thought knocked the air right out of me. It was preposterous, of course. These people lived in a perpetual atmosphere of Halloween with notions of ghosts and goblins and otherworldly things in their heads. I responded carefully, though, so I wouldn’t offend her. “Do
you
think Mallory is haunting you?”

Eva rubbed her upper arms as though she was cold. “A few days ago, I would have laughed at the mere thought. But strange things have happened since Mallory’s death. The unexplained light in this room. Mallory’s spirit in the mirror. Believers think that mirrors are portals for ghosts. Now the EVP with my name. I don’t have an explanation for Mallory’s necklace being in my room, either.”

I couldn’t help wondering if guilt played a role. Could it be that Eva expected to be haunted by the woman she murdered? “Why would Mallory haunt you?”

“Because I have what she wanted. I have Mark. I have his undying love. I can’t believe he was willing to go to jail for me.”

I would have felt so much better if she had mentioned her innocence.

“I won,” said Eva. “In the end, I won.”

And Mallory had lost something much bigger than Mark or his love. She had lost her life. I was getting a little bit uncomfortable. “Oh, Eva! You’re the ghost debunker. You’re supposed to see through these things and explain them away.”

“That’s just it. There are too many things I can’t explain on this trip.”

There were a few things I couldn’t explain, either. Like who killed Mallory, and who attacked Clementine. But I wasn’t planning to blame ghosts. I planned to find out who the perpetrators were. Even if one of them turned out to be Eva.

I left her room perplexed. Had Mark tried to take the blame because he knew Eva had killed Mallory?

Back in the lobby, Ben was joking around with Felix, Grayson, and Brian. “Want to join us for dinner at Chowhound?”

“Sure. What about Mark? I thought you were off to help him.”

“I phoned,” said Grayson. “He’ll be back in about an hour.”

Oma and Rose breezed by us, unaware of what had transpired.

“Does everyone have a costume for tomorrow? It’s Howloween, you know!” said Rose. “We wear them all day in Wagtail.”

The ghost hunters joked about dressing like ghost hunters. But Ben pulled me aside. “Maybe I should buy a mask. To be in the spirit of things.”

It was a nice gesture. I wasn’t used to this side of Ben. Back in Washington he always turned down fun ideas.

“We’ll meet you at Chowhound,” I said. I dashed upstairs to retrieve my wallet. Ben, Trixie, and I strolled to All Dressed Pup, where I had seen costumes for people in the window.

While Ben looked around, it dawned on me that Clementine might not have costumes for the children. If I didn’t have any money, a costume was the last thing I would buy. “Hey, Ben. If you were a five-year-old boy, what kind of costume would you want to wear?”

I knew the answer before he said anything. The adult pirate costume he held in his hands was thoroughly boyish and loads of fun. He adjusted his glasses. “Can a guy wear glasses over an eye patch?”

“Absolutely. Try it out.” I hid my smile. Maybe Wagtail brought out the best in all of us.

A saleswoman hurried toward us to assist him. Meanwhile, I found two pirate costumes for five-year-olds. I wasn’t sure about Emily. Banking on the notion that most girls liked princess clothes, I picked out a tiara, a pink dress, matching shoes that sparkled, a wand, and a white veterinarian coat. There weren’t any rules that a princess couldn’t be a doctor, too.

Clementine said she had sold everything. I wondered if she had something fun to wear. I thought about a witch costume, not unlike the one I planned to wear, but when I saw the not-too-revealing I Dream of Jeannie costume, I dared to purchase it for her. With her hair pulled up in a ponytail, she would make a perfect Jeannie. Besides, she could use a little magic in her life. She could always exchange it if she hated it.

Armed with our purchases, I borrowed a Sugar Maple Inn golf cart. It was still daylight when I headed for Fireside Farms with Ben and Trixie.

Ben exclaimed as the long white fences came into view. “This is quite a place. Is that really a chandelier in the stable?”

“We call it a barn in these parts. And yes, it is a chandelier.”

Golf carts cluttered the driveway. The minute I stopped, Trixie jumped off and raced for the side door of the house. Ben and I followed her.

I knocked and tried the door handle. It was locked.

Parker let us in. Chaos reigned in the house. It looked and sounded like a huge party. Mr. Huckle offered us drinks.

“Thank you, but we’re not staying,” I said. “What’s going on here?”

“It seems that Holmes took your request to guard Clementine and the children quite seriously. Half of Wagtail is in the living room. They’re doling out shifts at the moment. Shall I tell Holmes or Clementine that you are here?”

“No, thank you. I’d rather you didn’t.” I handed the shopping bags to Mr. Huckle and whispered that they contained costumes for Halloween.

He nodded. “Very kind of you, Holly. I’ll see they get them in the morning.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t tell her who brought them. Just say they were delivered.”

Mr. Huckle smiled. “By the Howloween fairy, perhaps?”

“Works for me.” I didn’t want Clementine to feel indebted.

We left in a hurry so she wouldn’t see us there.

We arrived at Chowhound just as Eva and Mark walked up. His arm circled her waist. Mrs. Mewer and Twinkletoes accompanied them on leashes.

I scooped up Twinkletoes for a big hug, but she was more interested in the faux crows that were staring at us.

Trixie didn’t mind the crows or the cobwebs and spiders that decorated the restaurant, but she jumped back in shock and yipped when the animated skeleton seated by the door spoke to her.

We joined the others at a large table.

The events of recent days had been wild and stressful, so when the waitress took drink orders, I dared to try a Voodoo Witch’s Brew. The names of the other drinks had us all laughing—Black Widow Martini, Once Bitten, Bewitched, and Hocus Pocus.

Small wonder that Ben’s staid request for a beer brought boos from our table. He sheepishly changed to a Killer Bloody Mary.

For dinner, I ordered the Vampire’s Curse, which was shrimp and pasta in a potent garlic sauce. No garlic for Trixie, though. Goblin eyeballs made of ground chicken and rice served on a bed of gold coin cooked carrots sounded better for her.

Twinkletoes insisted on sitting on my lap for a better view. She stretched her neck and gazed around with big alert eyes. I ordered Evil Pirate Booty for her from the feline menu. She would like the locally caught catfish.

Twinkletoes and Mrs. Mewer jumped into a bay window outfitted just for cats. It was decorated for the season, with skeletons resting among glowing pumpkins and mock tombstones. The cats explored and looked out at passersby.

Mark regaled us with the story of what he called his “arrest,” putting a humorous spin on what had undoubtedly been an unnerving experience.

“So, um, what did they ask you?” inquired Felix.

At that moment, the drinks arrived. Black, orange, red, and glow-in-the-dark blue. Black sugar rimmed some of the glasses. Dry ice caused fog to float off of others. When we recovered from our amusement, Mark finally answered.

“The same old stuff about Mallory. In a way, I can see why it sounds odd to them. Mallory is . . . was . . . kind of childish. At first her attention was flattering. She was like a ghostie groupie. It didn’t last long, though. For more than a year we had no communication at all.” He rested his elbows on the table and tented his fingers. “She appeared on my doorstep here in Wagtail without advance warning a few months ago. She had heard about the Apparition Apprehenders and the TV show. I informed her we had filled the positions and there was no room for her. My big mistake was letting her stay the weekend. She kept coming back. And then she went and promised Rose she would play the part of Becca Wraith. When Mallory showed up this weekend I told her she had to find a room someplace else, but everything was booked for Howloween. I didn’t want to let Rose down, so I agreed that she could stay with me. I wish I had never done that.” Mark closed his eyes. “If she had gone home, she’d be alive right now.”

Felix broke the silence. “It’s not your fault, Mark. You don’t know what might have happened if you had turned her away. She might have died sooner.”

“Yeah,” said Grayson. “Hindsight always makes us wish we would have done things differently, but we don’t know what might have happened instead.”

Eva took Mark’s hand and squeezed it in a show of solidarity.

“Do they have any leads?” asked Brian, looking straight at Eva.

“Like they would tell me?” Mark sipped his drink and then shook his forefinger. “But here’s something bizarre. They asked me if any of us had a leg injury. What do you think that means?”

I suspected I knew. Clementine must have told Dave about the person with the odd gait. I wasn’t about to spill those beans, though. I scanned the people at the table. No one appeared upset by the revelation. What if the killer hadn’t been a ghost hunter at all? Maybe a total stranger had killed Mallory.

Over an hour later, we groaned after polishing off a six-layer Deadly Devil’s Food Cake with orange frosting and a scarily decadent chocolate ganache poured over the top and sides. Felix, Eva, and I still had time to get a little trick-or-treating in for Trixie, Casper, Mrs. Mewer, and Twinkletoes.

The entire group came along for fun. In the plaza in front of the inn, a witch was handing out maps and paper trick-or-treat bags imprinted with the word
Howloween
and an adorable dog and cat wearing witchy attire.

The witch rested a scraggly black fingernail against the wart on her nose. She gazed at the faces around her, causing several children to shriek and hide behind their parents. But every single one of them peered out at the witch. The toes of her shoes curled upward, and I suspected that the green stars on her stockings glowed in the dark.

She cackled gleefully and threw her head back. The black hat with large white polka dots and a giant black-and-white bow stayed on her head, but the spider that hung off the bent tip swung through the air, eliciting more screams of fright.

“You, my little one.” She pointed a gnarled forefinger at me and crooked it. “Come here, my dear,” she said in a singsong voice. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

I shuffled through the crowd as though I had no will of my own and was under her power.

A dachshund dressed as a skunk yelped a warning at Trixie as we approached the witch. But the scary woman didn’t fool Trixie for a minute. She knew Rose by scent and wagged her tail with joy.

Rose cackled at a boy who was pretending to be cool and bored with the whole thing.

He jumped back and stuck closer to his dad, never taking his eyes off Rose.

She raised her arms dramatically and whispered to me.

“Go by Doc’s house and see if Birdie is there, will you? Mr. Luciano went out to dinner with Lillian. If I know Birdie, and I suspect I do, she’s chasing Doc again.”

I tried not to giggle about the small-town romances and jealousies. “What does Doc’s place look like?”

“It’s down Cedar Street. You can’t miss it. Skeletons are crawling out of the upstairs windows.”

I pretended to be entranced and walked away from Rose with my arms raised and pointing straight forward, like Frankenstein. Little kids parted before me, skittering back in fear.

The ghost hunters fell in step, Felix and Grayson copying my awkward walk, and we marched toward the residential area on the east side of Wagtail.

We soon broke into giggles and relaxed. The residents of Wagtail had outdone themselves again. Porch lights glowed, illuminating skeletons, witches, and, on one porch, a headless couple dressed for a ball. Children raced around the streets comparing their loot and pointing out the houses that were doling out the best booty. Costumed dogs and cats were either excited or wary in the midst of the commotion.

Mark shouted, “Look, a bat!”

We all turned our attention overhead. Indeed, a tiny bat flew along the street, swooping up and down.

Twinkletoes and Mrs. Mewer froze in ready-to-jump positions. If it came back our way and swooped too low, one of them might snag it.

Screams arose and children rushed back to their parents. A few of the dogs yelped and tried to chase it.

We visited a few houses, collecting an assortment of made-in-Wagtail dog and cat treats.

Brian collected people treats at each house. We made fun of him until we hit a home where a sweet lady was handing out homemade chocolate chip cookies. Even thought we’d eaten dinner and had full stomachs, the scent wafting out the door almost induced drooling. Each of us politely accepted a soft cookie full of melting chocolate.

At the house across the street, a fog concealed much of the porch. In the mist we could make out a man holding up a lantern in one hand and lifting off his head with the other. Upstairs, skeletons crawled out of the windows. Doc had gone all out for Howloween.

Even though we knew it was make-believe, the headless man caused us to approach the house with caution. Doomsday music played when Mark rang the doorbell.

The door opened slowly with a frightening creak, and a black dog in a Batman costume dashed out, wagging his tail. He ran straight to Grayson, who rubbed his head with both hands.

“Hey, Siggie. How’s my pal?” asked Grayson.

Doc stepped out holding bowls of treats.

There weren’t many lights on inside the house. I shuffled over to get a better look. No sign of Birdie or any other female company.

I went out on a limb and whispered, “Doc, Rose is afraid Birdie is visiting you.”

He laughed heartily. “Not to worry, I’ll see Rose a little bit later on tonight. Birdie seems more interested in Luciano these days.”

“I’m sure you don’t mind that.”

Doc raised his eyebrows. “Don’t sell your aunt short, Holly. She’s a very bright woman.”

That took me completely by surprise. Aunt Birdie drove some people bananas, yet had ingratiated herself with others. I thanked him for the cat and dog treats and scuttled down the stairs of his front porch.

On our way back to the inn, I sought out Rose to assure her that Birdie hadn’t been visiting Doc. I needn’t have worried. Doc was already with her.

“Holly!” called Rose. “Did Holmes find you? He said you have the wrong shoe.”

“Wrong shoe?”

“That’s what he said. For a costume, maybe?”

I shrugged. I had no idea what he was talking about. “I’ll find him. Thanks, Rose!”

Back at the inn, I phoned Holmes, but his number rolled over to voice mail.

*   *   *

At eleven o’clock, Oma retired to her quarters, and I filled in for Casey behind the registration desk. Silent tranquility had settled over the inn. The Apparition Apprehenders had all gone over to the Wagtail Springs Hotel for a final investigation. Mrs. Mewer and Twinkletoes were nowhere to be seen.

“Looks like it’s just the two of us, Trixie.”

She wagged her short tail and aimed her nose at the treat jar on the counter.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute.” I indulged her with a tiny Sugar Maple Inn cookie.

I tidied up a little bit, replenishing brochures and tucking away items that needed to be out of sight. The shoe Casper had carried around and chewed on was still in the lost and found box. One of the ghost hunters would probably realize that he had lost it after he checked out, went home, and unpacked.

I brought the bills up to date on the computer, an easy task because Mr. Luciano was footing the expense for everyone except Lillian Elsner and Parker Colby. By midnight, I realized why Casey often napped on the love seat. My eyelids were growing heavy and precious little remained to be done.

The registration area Oma had built made sense for arriving and departing guests. But at this hour, I felt as though anything could be happening in the hotel without my knowledge. I would have to talk to Oma about making a change.

To be on the safe side, I took a cue from Casey and walked through the silent hallway to make sure the front door was still locked. It was. But it wouldn’t hurt to put on a pot of coffee. Without caffeine, I would drift off to sleep.

Trixie pricked her ears and turned in the direction of the registration area. Uh-oh. What if someone was looking for me?

I jogged along the hallway behind Trixie, whose nails clicked against the floor as she ran ahead. A gust of cold wind blew into the room as the automatic doors slid closed.

“Hello?” I called.

No one answered. I peeked in the office. Empty. I couldn’t help thinking it was eerily reminiscent of the day the Apparition Apprehenders checked in. Someone had said it was a ghost when the doors opened on their own and wind blew through the room.

Against my better judgment, I looked up at the wall where we had seen the orb. Perfectly normal. “I’ve been hanging around ghost hunters too long, Trixie. I’m beginning to think there
are
such things as ghosts.”

Trixie followed a scent on the floor. She sniffed upward and, for a moment, I thought she was smelling the treat jar, but she balanced on her hind legs and overturned the lost and found box with her front paws.

“Trixie!”

I knelt on the floor and gathered the items. A child-sized red and blue mitten, a sheer pink blouse that made me wonder how the owner lost it, three dog toys, and a thin camera. Replacing the box where it belonged, I said, “Don’t do that again.”

She wagged her tail as though I had said she was the best dog in the world. I leaned over and hugged her.

And then I realized that the gust of wind had definitely not been a ghost. As far as I knew, ghosts were not in the habit of stealing shoes.