Ghost in Trouble (2010)

Chief Cobb smiled. “Thanks, Esther. I want a crime van at The Castle in an hour. Bring these prints. We’ll be looking for a match.”

As she left, Chief Cobb picked up the phone, punched a number. “Miss Hume? This is Chief Cobb. Our crime technicians will return to The Castle for further testing this afternoon. Some fingerprints may also be checked on the third floor in connection with your brother’s death. This is all a matter of routine.” His tone was bland. He listened, nodded. “Thank you.”

Once again he punched his phone. “Hal, get the expert to The Castle in an hour. I’ll meet you there.” He clicked off the phone, settled back in his chair, and looked around.

“Good work, Chief.” I spoke with warmth and admiration. “Everything’s going perfectly.”

His expression was wry. “That’s assuming there’s a match between the Coke prints and the prints you think we will find at The Castle.”

“O ye of little faith,” I murmured.

“But”—his brown eyes gleamed—“if the prints are there”—he glanced down at my plan—“your idea is swell. I’ll request everyone to be at The Castle at eight o’clock tonight, ostensibly to re-create the seance.” He tapped the sheet of paper with his forefinger. “None of them will dare refuse.”

Kay handed me her cell phone. “Moment of truth,” she announced.

I glanced at my watch. It was almost four o’clock. While Kay and I had awaited the chief’s call, we’d talked and paced and worried. And now we would know if we had succeeded. “Chief?” I held the phone tightly.

“Everything went just as you planned.” He sounded amazed. “The expert confirmed your guess. The prints were exactly where you said they would be. That was my ace in the hole. When I showed up and gave the Miranda warning and started talking about a triple murder charge, there was absolute shock and a pretty credible explanation. Actually”—the chief’s voice was thoughtful—“I don’t think there was a murder conspiracy. So, the canary sang and is fully on board for tonight. See you at eight.” A rumble of laughter. “I guess I won’t see you. But I’m sure you’ll be there.” The connection ended.

Kay looked depressed. “I don’t see why I can’t come.”

I have a fondness for silk sweaters. I tried a seashell pink with pale blue silk crepe trousers. Matching pink leather thongs were lovely. I pirouetted in front of the mirror. The light slanting through the window added a glow to my hair. But…I shook my head. Not dressy enough. I changed to a light blue Irish-linen shirt with openwork embroidery and a long A-line skirt with matching embroidery that started six inches above the hem. A different shade for my shoes—sky blue—and I was ready. I added a medallion necklace of ivory. “Perfect.” I was admiring the artistry of the clothing, not myself, of course.

Kay stood with her arms folded, glaring. “What is with you? Nobody’s going to see you. Why bother?”

Sometimes waspishness disguises disappointment. “I’m sorry you can’t be in at the finale.”

Kay paced, her narrow face in a tight frown. “Maybe I can slip into the library and hide behind the drapes.”

I straightened a curl over one ear. “The library isn’t the place to be. That’s simply a ruse to get everyone here. After everyone gathers, slip up to the ballroom. Open a door just a sliver.” I felt a pang of uncertainty. Our adversary was smart, tough, and strong-willed. “Oh, Kay, if ever you hoped for luck, hope tonight.”

In the library, I hovered near a chandelier with a clear view of everyone present.

Chief Cobb stood with folded arms at one end of the oak table, only a few feet from the chaise longue where Laverne Phillips had spun the web that robbed her of life. Although his brown suit was wrinkled and his tie loose at his collar, the chief looked powerful and impressive. The drapes were drawn, but tonight the chandeliers glittered, banishing all the shadows. In the bright, harsh light, wary faces looked toward him.

Evelyn Hume held her glasses in one hand. Her milky eyes made her look vulnerable, but she sat with regal dignity, her soft mauve chiffon dress appropriate for a grande dame. Diane’s face was blotched from crying. Every so often, she pressed a tissue to her lips. Jimmy studiously avoided looking toward Clint Dunham. He stared at the tabletop, his face sad and drawn. Clint’s shoulders hulked forward, a man in a tense, defensive posture. Gwen Dunham appeared remote and fragile despite her Grace Kelly beauty. Alison Gregory toyed with the emerald ring on her right hand, her gaze shifting from face to face. She was as perfectly turned out as always, blond hair smoothly brushed, makeup understated but effective, yet her cheekbones looked sharp above lips pressed tightly together. Margo Taylor’s auburn hair was pulled back in a tight bun, emphasizing deep lines at her eyes and lips. Shannon Taylor darted occasional worried glances toward Jimmy.

Chief Cobb’s deep voice was smooth and pleasant. “I am grateful to all of you for your willingness to return this evening to assist us in our investigation. We have made a great deal of progress today. However”—he glanced down at my suggested queries—“in some instances, information has been withheld.” He looked at Margo. “Where did you put the tools used to leverage the vase loose from the balcony?”

Margo was by far the likeliest person to have found the tools. I’d left them poking out of the chest in the main entrance hall Tuesday night. They were gone when I checked early Wednesday morning.

Shannon burst out, “I took them. Not Mom.”

Margo turned toward her. “Hush.” Her voice was frantic.

Shannon shook her head. “I didn’t push that dumb old vase. I was scared. I thought somebody was trying to cause trouble for somebody else.” She so obviously kept her gaze from Jimmy that she might as well have marked a huge black X in front of him. “I tossed them in the pond.” Her gaze was both scared and defiant.

Jimmy looked startled, then touched. “Yeah. My fingerprints would be on the crowbar. I changed a tire on my Jeep last week.” His eyes softened as he looked at Shannon.

She looked back and her heart was in her eyes. “You might have socked Jack. You wouldn’t sneak up from behind and push him.”

“It is helpful to know the whereabouts of the tools. However”—now Cobb’s look was dour—“you lied about not leaving your house last night, Miss Taylor.”

Shannon drew a deep, shaky breath.