The Ghost and Mrs. Mewer (A Paws and Claws Mystery Book 2) (15 page)

Eva raised her chin. “Perhaps
you
could enlighten us. What exactly were
you
doing outside?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk.” Brian spoke smugly, as though he wasn’t concerned by the implication that he might have had something to do with Mallory’s death.

Eva’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I don’t suppose you happened to meet Mallory during this walk?”

Brian leveled a wicked look at Eva. “Mallory is gone. You can pretend you don’t believe in ghosts all you want. But that won’t stop Mallory from coming back for you. Just like Becca, Hiram, and Obadiah can’t find peace.” He leaned forward. “Mallory is looking for you.”

They say emotions travel up and down the leash, meaning that your dog knows if you’re tense or afraid. But I had no idea it worked that way for cats, too. In the instant that Brian stood up menacingly, Mrs. Mewer leaped onto his shoulder and clung to him.

Brian howled and turned in a frantic circle, trying to knock the cat off, but Mrs. Mewer sank her claws in deeper and held on like she was riding a bucking bronco.

If the implications of what they had confessed hadn’t been so dire, the ensuing chaos might have been very funny—Brian turning and turning. Eva and Mr. Luciano reaching for Mrs. Mewer. Mark and Felix trying to help but getting in the way as the other three rotated. Casper, Gina, Trixie, and GloryB barking underfoot.

In the blink of an eye, Mrs. Mewer flew off Brian’s shoulder, landed squarely on her feet and took off down the corridor with Twinkletoes in hot pursuit. The dogs couldn’t resist a good chase, and they raced behind the cats.

Brian wiped his shoulder. When he turned his fingers up, I saw a tiny smear of blood.

He eyed Eva. “Bring it on now, devil woman. One more word criticizing me, and I’ll sue.”

“Calm down, Brian.” Felix stood on tiptoe to see Brian’s shoulder. “It’s just a cat scratch.”

“Yeah? Haven’t you ever heard of cat scratch fever?” He turned menacingly toward Eva. “You better watch yourself.”

He sucked in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and said, quite calmly, “Felix, Holly, I’d like to speak with you, please.”

Felix and I followed Brian outside onto the porch.

“Did the camera get that? See, I’m not really a jerk, Holly. Well, okay, sometimes I
can
be, but that’s just because I can be stupid, but I’m not being stupid
or
a jerk right now.”

I tried to follow his rambling, which seemed to be a disclaimer of some sort.

Felix gave him a dirty look. “You were a little hard on Eva, don’t you think?”

Brian slapped him on the back. “You won’t feel that way when the ratings come in.”

“So you’re not really angry?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m plenty angry.” He sucked in air noisily. “Eva acts so superior, like she’s some kind of genius, when she’s the dope because she can’t open her mind enough to see that ghosts exist. What I said was the truth. She really was outside the other night, and she sure hated Mallory.”

I walked inside, much relieved that Brian had been putting on a show. I wondered if Eva knew that.

I helped Shelley clean up, expecting the dogs to return. When they didn’t, I found them at the reception desk, where Zelda was using her psychic skills on them. Felix looked on in delighted amazement. I wondered if he really believed she could read their minds, or if he just thought it was a cute gag.

Zelda offered them tiny treats, and Trixie nearly knocked little GloryB over in her eagerness.

I hurried to correct her. “Sit, Trixie. We don’t jump like that.” Her little bottom barely grazed the floor in compliance before Zelda laughed and gave her a tiny corner of a biscuit.

Casper sat properly and raised a paw for his treat.

“That’s a good Ghost,” Zelda cooed to Casper.

A whirlwind rushed above us. Visible through the wrought iron railing on the balcony, Mrs. Mewer and Twinkletoes faced each other in a classic cat standoff.

Zelda handed me Mrs. Mewer’s leash. “I took it off so she wouldn’t get tangled on anything, and I put a Sugar Maple Inn GPS collar on her.”

I sighed. Now she would be that much more difficult to catch.

As though she had read my mind, Zelda added, “Let her have her fun. Mrs. Mewer loves racing around with Twinkletoes. She says she never gets to play with other cats at home. She’s not interested in going outside. She just wants to play.”

“They don’t look like they’re having fun. They look like they’re going to scratch and bite each other.”

“They’re fine,” Zelda insisted. “They’re batting around a turquoise mouse.” Zelda lowered her voice. “But Mrs. Mewer is very concerned about Eva. She says she’s never see Eva so upset.”

A dreamy look came over Felix. He tilted his head and stared at Zelda with open fascination.

I never knew quite how to respond to Zelda’s pronouncements about what animals were thinking. I didn’t really believe that Zelda could read their minds or communicate with them. But she had an annoying habit of being correct. Of course, it didn’t take a psychic to know that Eva was stressed out. “I’m a little worried about Eva, too. Make sure it’s okay with her for Mrs. Mewer to have the run of the inn. Okay?”

Zelda’s eyes shifted toward Felix. She gave him a little nudge and cocked her head toward me.

“Oh!” Felix straightened up. “Would you be able to show Grayson and me the way to your aunt’s house this afternoon?”

I’d forgotten all about Aunt Birdie. “Why don’t I just draw you a map?”

Felix and Zelda shared a look and laughed like they had a private joke.

Felix cleared his throat. “I believe her exact words were ‘and bring my heartless niece with you or I won’t open the door.’”

“Leave it to Birdie to extend a gracious invitation.”

Felix and I left Trixie and Casper in Zelda’s care. Wagtail might be pet-friendly, but I didn’t have to ask to know that Aunt Birdie’s home was off-limits to furry creatures.

Felix, Grayson, and I set off for her house, stopping briefly at Au Bone Pain, which Oma had recommended for baked goods.

The clerk recognized Grayson from his previous reality TV show. Giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush, she asked him to autograph a bakery bag.

He rose to the occasion, cleverly writing
The best buns in town! Grayson Gatewood
. He even posed for selfies destined for Facebook.

Felix tapped his watch. “Grayson, Aunt Birdie is waiting.”

Grayson followed us out the door but turned to wave to his fans inside.

“Wow. Does that happen to you a lot?” I asked.

Felix laughed. “All the time. Makes me feel like the invisible man when I’m with him.”

Grayson grinned. “Wait until the Apparition Apprehenders are on TV. You’ll get just as much attention.”

“Eva didn’t want to come along?” I asked.

“She’s back at the inn going over the EVPs,” said Felix.

“Those were amazing,” said Grayson. “Mark said he had never heard anything so clear. The owners ought to promote the place as a haunted hotel. Bet they’d do a big business. Who owns it?”

Felix sniffed the muffins. “Mark said it’s a funny little guy named Wiggins. Think Birdie would be offended if we ate some of the muffins on the way?”

I pretended to whisk them out of his reach to protect them. Not that I blamed him. The aroma was mouthwatering.

We marched bravely up the walk to her home.

Aunt Birdie answered the door dressed for a business meeting. A prim white blouse peeked out the front of a red suit. Giant mobe pearl earrings flanked her face, which bore such an inhospitable expression that I immediately felt like a child who had been caught misbehaving.

I quickly introduced Felix and Grayson. “We brought muffins. I hope you like them. They smell heavenly.”

She thanked us politely and invited us inside. She peeked in the basket. “Store-bought,” she sniffed. “You couldn’t bake something to bring to your only aunt?”

Felix glanced at me with wide eyes. “Holly hasn’t had much time. We’re keeping her very busy.”

“Are you? How refreshingly chivalrous of you to come to her defense.”

I meant to let it slide, really I did. But under my breath I muttered, “And you’re not my only aunt.”

“So Mrs. Dupuy,” Felix said hastily, shooting me an annoyed look, “why do you think you have ghosts?”

“Miss. It’s
Miss
Dupuy. And I don’t
think
I have ghosts. I know I have them because I have seen them. I expect they’ll be making an appearance now that Holly is in the house.”

“And why would that be?” asked Felix.

“She hasn’t been here in years. My only living relative can’t be bothered to visit.”

It took all my willpower not to point out that she knew very well that my mother—her sister—was very much alive and well and living in California. Not to mention their parents and my half siblings. They were, however, wise enough to reside an entire country away from her.

Aunt Birdie must have thought my silence gave her license to continue in that vein. “But everything will be different now that she’s living here. We’ll have dinner together on Saturday nights, and Holly will take over care of the family graves at Wagtail Cemetery. I go there every Sunday after services, and I expect to see seasonal arrangements on the graves. See that you take care of that today, Holly.”

I closed my eyes for a few seconds. How to handle
this
?

“Don’t look like that. I’ve taken care of those graves for as long as I can remember. It’s time your generation took responsibility for our ancestors.”

To be honest, I had never given their graves a single thought. With the sole exception of my grandfather—Oma’s husband—all my grandparents were still alive. A flash of shame rolled over me. I sucked in a deep breath of air. Flowers at the cemetery didn’t sound too terrible. After all, they deserved to be remembered nicely.

“I’ll be glad to do that, Aunt Birdie. But I don’t know what my schedule will be like yet, so we’ll have to see about dinners on Saturdays.”

She looked like I had slapped her. I swear the hollows under her prominent cheekbones grew deeper.

Felix jumped in. “Where do you see these apparitions,
Miss
Dupuy? Perhaps you could show us and tell us a little bit more about the circumstances?”

“What a nice young man you are. Married?”

Felix sputtered, “No-o-o.”

“Isn’t that lucky? My niece, my only living relative on this earth, is single, too.”

Felix and Grayson both looked back at me as Birdie led us through her home. I rolled my eyes, held up my palms, and shrugged. Fortunately they both grinned.

I wasn’t used to living near relatives. Up to now, I had done pretty much as I pleased, when I pleased. I hoped I could work something out with Birdie eventually. Living in dread of seeing her might be worse than catering to her once in a while.

“Right here.” She fingered her hair. “This has always been the sitting room. My house has been in the family for four generations. Holly will inherit it one day.” She gazed at Felix. “Did you hear that? Holly will be an heiress.”

It was all I could do not to snort. Heiress? Hardly. Her sitting room surprised me, though. Definitely not modern, but not the stuffy, uncomfortable, Victorian-type room I remembered from my childhood.

Elaborate yet tasteful floral curtains with a bold yellow background swagged across the windows. Pale yellow walls provided a backdrop for what appeared to be family portraits, including one of my mother as a child, holding a cocker spaniel. A window seat bore bright blue cushions, and a love seat was clad in the same cheerful fabric as the curtains. A Ouija board sat on a rather modern ottoman-style table that was clad in a coordinating yellow and white lattice print. Two additional chairs did seem a bit older and stuffier in style, but their faded blue fabric bore faint yellow roses that suited the room. A small table between them held an aged book.

I felt a little bit ashamed, actually. I had never given any thought to Aunt Birdie’s financial situation. What did she live off of? This wasn’t the time to ask. Oma would surely know.

“Uh, Miss Dupuy?” said Felix. “You haven’t been playing with that Ouija board, have you?”

“You ask that as though it were a bad thing, young man.”

Felix shook his head. “You really shouldn’t do that, Miss Dupuy. You don’t know who you’ll get with a Ouija board. You could accidentally open the door to dark spirits.”

He sounded so earnest. It was really very sweet.

Birdie rambled on about my great-great-grandparents and how she sometimes heard sounds at night in the sitting room. “Oh, here’s Elmer now.”

I gazed around the room. I didn’t see anyone. Not even a mist or an orb.

“Miss Dupuy, are you by any chance a sensitive?”

Aunt Birdie beamed. “Yes, Felix. I have seen ghosts since I was a child. Don’t
you
see Elmer? He’s over there by the table with the book.”

We turned to look in that direction, and for absolutely no reason the book flew to the floor.

I gasped and scanned the area. None of us were anywhere near close enough to have influenced the book. It hadn’t slid down. It hadn’t fallen off. It had flown about three feet as though it had been tossed.

“Now, now, Elmer. Don’t be upset. I’m sure they appreciated your effort to move the book.” Aunt Birdie smiled at us. “Your great-great-grandfather always was a rascal. He hates it when people can’t see him. He was a lawyer, and you know how they like to be the center of attention.”

Uh-oh. Either Aunt Birdie had lost her marbles or she was as bad as Brian. Did she know how to rig a book so it would fly off a table? I stood perfectly still. I didn’t feel anything moving—no motors or anything that might have jiggled the book. I eyed the little table. Could it be at a slant?

Grayson could hardly contain himself. “Oh, man! That was so cool. We have to come back at night. Would that be okay? Maybe we could shoot a second episode of the TV show? Whadda ya think, Felix? We have to talk with Luciano!”

“Mr. Luciano?” asked Aunt Birdie. “A rather distinguished gentleman? Snappy dresser? Has a bulldog?”

Well, well, well. Aunt Birdie certainly had noticed Mr. Luciano about town. Maybe I could introduce them and Birdie would focus her energy on Luciano instead of me. Only a month ago, Birdie, Oma, and Rose had tried to set me up. I shuddered at the memory. None of their attempts went very well, and it had been horribly embarrassing. Yet here I was thinking about doing the very same thing. I consoled myself by imagining it might be genetic.

I pulled myself together, picked the book up off the floor, and examined it. Bound in worn red leather with fancy scrolls that showed wear from age, the cover had been embossed with the names
Elmer and Lisette Dupuy
. I turned it over. No signs of wires or anything that might have launched it from the table. My eyes met Felix’s.

He mashed his lips together, then said, “Just like in the castle.”

Birdie frowned at us. “I suppose that’s Elmer’s way of telling me it’s time I passed his journal on to you, Holly. It’s not terribly interesting. Elmer was a decent but excruciatingly boring man. Still, he kept records. Lisette drew some sketches and stashed a few family photographs in it. I have a few other items to pass along to you as well.”

The second Birdie left the room, Felix and Grayson descended on the book and examined the table.

I watched them, but they didn’t come up with any cogent explanations for the flying book, either.

Aunt Birdie bustled into the room carrying a stack of ancient books. She handed them to me. “Take good care of these. They are the history of your family. If it weren’t for me, we wouldn’t have anything to hand on.”

“Thank you, Aunt Birdie.” Why did I have a funny suspicion she was really cleaning her house? No matter. I
was
glad to have them. And I would hand them on eventually, too. Maybe sooner than she thought, if I could dump them on my half siblings.

“Now then, about Mr. Luciano and your TV show—” Birdie stopped and turned to me. “Well? What are you still doing here?”

“I beg your pardon?” What was she upset about now?

“The flowers for their graves. Didn’t you hear what I said? I want fresh flowers on those graves tonight when people view the cemetery. I will
not
have anyone thinking that the Dupuys don’t honor their dead.”

Hadn’t she claimed my presence would bring out the spirits? But any excuse to leave sounded good to me. “I’ll take care of it immediately. See you later.”

I was hightailing it for the front door when it dawned on me that she would hate whatever I chose. I dashed back to the sitting room. “Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt. Which florist do you prefer, Aunt Birdie?”

Her bitter expression changed for once. Evidently she was thrilled that I had asked her advice. I made a mental note that she liked being asked for her opinion. Even if I didn’t follow her suggestions, it might be beneficial to ask for guidance once in a while.

“Catnip and Bark,” she said.

I waved and left so fast that my tailwind probably blew the ghosts out of the premises.

It was a gorgeous fall day. The nip in the air was as crisp as a ripe apple. I longed to be outside, but I hurried back to the inn, afraid to be away too long when I should be working.

I needn’t have been concerned. Zelda, Oma, and Rose were chatting in Oma’s office over tea and coffee. The sun shone through the French doors. Twinkletoes and Mrs. Mewer had stretched out in a sunbeam and didn’t even twitch an ear when I entered.

Trixie and Casper jumped to their feet and greeted me like they hadn’t seen me in years. I deposited the handful of books on the desk and squatted to pet the dogs.

While the dogs were happy, Oma, Rose, and Zelda wore worried expressions. “What happened? Why so glum?”

Oma’s lips drew tight. “Officer Dave paid Zelda a visit.”

Zelda cringed and bit into an éclair.

I guessed it had to happen sooner or later.

Zelda swallowed hard. “He was asking questions about the night Mallory died.” She waved her forefinger as she spoke. “I knew she didn’t drown by accident. I’ve been in that bath. It’s like a big kiddie pool. There are deeper public fountains everywhere.”

Rose shot Oma a fearful look. “It was an accident. Why won’t Dave accept that?” She glared at me. “You too, Holly. Why can’t the two of you concede that Mallory drowned on her own, without help from anyone else?”

I could feel the color rising in my face. “What if Holmes drowned in less than two feet of water in Chicago, and they wrote off his death as an accident?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That would never happen. And if it did, I’d be right there in a flash, demanding to know what had”—Rose’s voice faded—“happened.”

“Mallory was an orphan.” I just let it hang there in the air.

“Now you’re making me feel terrible. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t an accident. I trust Doc.”

At least Rose wasn’t glaring at me anymore. I eyed the selection of pastries on the table, took a seat, and poured myself a mug of coffee, doctoring it with milk and sugar. Trixie edged toward me, watching my every move, no doubt hoping for a terrible accident that would land the entire pastry tray on the floor.

“Officer Dave had the nerve to imply that I killed her out of jealousy because she was flirting with Felix. I was afraid of this. He thinks
I
killed Mallory!” said Zelda.

I nearly dropped my coffee mug. Mallory’s outrageous attention to Felix hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice. But to imagine that Zelda would be so angry that she would murder? Dave had gone too far. I recognized that he had to consider all the possibilities, but that seemed over the top to me.

Zelda lived with a clowder of cats. I didn’t imagine they would provide an alibi for her. “I don’t suppose you contacted anyone or sent any e-mails when you got home?”

“It was past two thirty in the morning!” Zelda put down her éclair. “I know Felix didn’t kill her. He’s much too kind. I mean, think about it. He’s the only one of them who bothered to walk us home.”

“You girls stop that now,” said Rose. “Doc is so upset with Dave for undermining him. And you too, Holly. You and Dave aren’t helping things by running around town asking questions that imply Mallory was murdered. I understand that Dave would like to do something more exciting than look for a lost dog, but honestly, you’re making people think something worse happened than is the case.”

I looked to Oma, who nodded in agreement. “Doc was very clear. There is no evidence of anything criminal.”

“It’s disrespectful, too,” said Rose. “Dave is a sweet boy, but Doc has decades of experience that shouldn’t simply be disregarded. Of course he knows more about these things than Dave.”

Like Zelda, I bit into an éclair. I happened to agree with Dave, and Rose’s little lecture didn’t change that. But I knew when to keep quiet. I would have to be more discreet in the future.

“How did the visit with Birdie go?” asked Oma.

“As well as can be expected. Oma, what does Birdie do to make a living?”

“A number of things. She’s an appraiser. Quite well-respected from what I understand.”

“Real estate?”

“No, no. Things. Objets d’art. Crystal, historical documents, jewelry, old books, old gadgets.”

“She writes columns for a few fancy magazines about that sort of thing,” said Rose. “She used to transcribe manuscripts for a local writer before computers took over.”

“I’m to take flowers to the graves of my ancestors.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” said Oma.

“I
love
Wagtail Cemetery!” cooed Zelda. “It’s like taking a step back in time. Except for the addition of new graves, I bet the church and cemetery haven’t changed a bit in a century.”

I glanced at her doubtfully.

“What?” asked Zelda. “A lot of people like graveyards. Wagtail’s is so cool and old-fashioned.”

Rose asked, “You
are
coming to the graveyard party tonight?”

“Eww. Isn’t that a little bit macabre?” I asked.

Oma groaned. “Loosen up, liebling. It’s all in good fun.”

“I believe Liesel is right. When did you become such a stick-in-the-mud, Holly?” asked Rose.

“Now just a minute. I like fun as much as anyone else. But isn’t it a little bit disrespectful to party in a cemetery?”

“It’s all the rage!” raved Zelda.

“Celebrations at cemeteries are nothing new,” said Rose. “Years ago, people gathered at cemeteries for special occasions. They even took picnics. On some days, the whole town turned out to clean up the cemetery. I think it’s wonderful that people take an interest in our cemetery. If it happens to be because of Halloween, well, that’s just fine.”

Zelda laughed. “And if a few ghosts show up, all the better!”

“Holmes will be there.” Rose shot a coy glance my way.

“Holmes is engaged. Don’t you start that again.” I hurried to change the subject. “So what’s going on here? Seems awfully quiet.”

Zelda grinned. “No one checking in or out. Not even many questions. Just a bunch of handsome ghost hunters running around.”

“You can spend some time unpacking. I hear your apartment is quite the mess.” Oma didn’t say it in a critical way, thank goodness.

“Now how would you know . . .” It came to me as I spoke. “Mr. Huckle. I think he banged into some boxes. Since it’s such a beautiful day, I think I’ll take the dogs for a walk. We can deliver the flowers to the cemetery and get it out of the way so Birdie won’t complain about it.”

But at that moment, Oma gasped, looking as though she’d seen a ghost.