Merry, Merry Ghost

everybody?”

Jake trembled. “That must be the police downstairs. They called about my car. Someone’s stolen it. The police found it. They asked to speak to Susan. I don’t know why they wanted to talk to her. I don’t understand. Nothing makes sense.” She stepped reluctantly toward Susan’s body. “Quick. We have to get Susan back on the bed.”

A deep voice sounded below. Gina’s reply was indistinguishable. There was the muffled sound of steps and the door closing and more voices.

Peg caught her mother’s arm. “What do you mean?”

Jake tried to pull away. “Hurry. She mustn’t be found like this. It doesn’t look right.”

Steps sounded in the hall. “Is Susan sick?” Gina called out. “Where is everyone?”

Peg held tight to Jake. “Look right?” Her young voice rose with a tinge of hysteria. “No. It doesn’t look right. That pillow—oh God, someone’s killed Susan.”

“Susan’s dead?” Gina’s voice was sharp and high. She stood in the doorway. When she saw Susan’s body and the pillow, Gina reached out, gripped the lintel, held tight.

Jake’s gaze was desperate. “There’s some explanation. Susan felt sick. She got up. She fell and maybe she was carrying the pillow. You girls have to help me. We can put her on the bed.” Jake’s tone was feverish. “We have to hurry. Susan would hate for anyone to see her like this.”

“Mrs. Flynn?” The deep voice was loud, demanding. “Police.”

Gina made a helpless gesture with her hands. “The doorbell rang and rang. I went down. The police are here to talk to Susan.”

The three women stood frozen for an instant, each staring at the still figure. Jake’s eyes were wide and staring, her breathing irregular. Gina’s thin face was slack with shock and disbelief. Peg shuddered. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Hello?” The stern voice called again from downstairs.

Peg, her face ashen, dropped her mother’s arm. She walked stiffly past Gina into the hallway. “Police? Come help us.” Her call was stricken. “Someone has killed Susan.”

I sat on the chaise longue near Keith’s bed. I heard noise, deep voices, the thud of feet on the stairway even though the door to Keith’s room was firmly shut. I’d gained some knowledge of police procedures on my previous mission. The medical examiner would be summoned. Susan wouldn’t be touched until the examiner affirmed death. Because of the circumstances in which she was found, an autopsy would be ordered. I felt no need to be present for the early moments of the investigation. I wouldn’t miss anything of importance. Especially since I’d created the crime scene. Peg had taken time to check on Keith before the women were asked to go downstairs, but I was afraid the movement up and down the stairs and the brusque exchanges of conversation would awaken him. I didn’t want Keith to stumble out into the hallway. Not this night.

Keith stirred. His eyes fluttered open.

I reached over and turned on the lamp, tilted the shade to keep the glare away from his eyes. He blinked sleepily, then stiffened as a loud thump sounded in the hallway. He clutched Big Bob’s brown paw and looked about fearfully.

I brushed back a tangle of blond curls, bent near. “Go back to sleep, Keith. Think about bump-a-thumps, bump-a-thumps, the Christmas march of the elephants. When it’s Christmastime, elephants gather to serenade good boys and girls. They wave their trunks and stamp their feet and each and every elephant has a Christmas muffler, red and white and green just like Big Bob’s.” The oversize bear almost crowded Keith from the bed. I smoothed the end of Big Bob’s muffler.

A bang and a thump sounded in the hall. Men’s voices were loud in the hallway.

“The elephants are very big”—I dropped my voice—“and they have deep, rumbly voices. When you hear them coming, you know that Christmas morning will be special.” I softly sang the refrain, “Bump-a-thumps, bump-a- thumps…”

Keith relaxed against the pillow, the occasional thud and banging in the hallway accounted for. I sang until he slipped into sleep, his lips curved in a smile, one small hand wrapped in the end of Big Bob’s muffler. In his dreams, I hoped he watched beautiful, big-hoofed, dusky gray pachyderms marching upstairs and down, striped scarves swinging, singing for a good little boy.

At the foot of the stairs, Jake drew her chenille robe tighter and glared at Johnny Cain and a tall angular policewoman standing in the foyer. “What are you doing down here? The rest of them are upstairs.”

The policewoman looked at her politely. “I’m here to answer the door, ma’am.”

“Are there more coming?” Jake sounded close to hysteria.

“Officers and technicians will be in and out.” Her voice had the familiar Adelaide twang, her serious gaze was watchful.

Johnny stepped forward. His handsome face was grave. “Mrs. Flynn, detectives are on the way.” He looked past Jake, saw Peg. His blue eyes were suddenly warm and kind. “Hi, Peg.”

Peg looked young and vulnerable, shivering in her yellow flannel pajamas. Her brown hair was ruffled, her round face bare of makeup. “Oh, Johnny, I’m glad you’re here. You can tell us what we are supposed to do.”

Johnny gestured toward the dark living room. “Maybe you might like to wait in there. Everyone at a crime scene is asked to remain together until the detective in charge can speak with them.”

Jake reached up as if to brush back her hair. A red stain flushed her cheeks. Fingers moving rapidly, she removed the curlers, stuffed them in a pocket of her robe, fluffed her hair until it looked like faded sprigs of yellow yarn. She opened the door to the living room, switched on the light. “I’ll turn up the heat. We can stay in here if that’s what we have to do. I don’t see why we have stay in one room, but I don’t want to be alone.”

Johnny looked out of place in his French blue uniform as he stood beneath the cranberry and pine cone decorated doorway. “Is there anyone else in the house?”