Murder Outside the Lines

Veronica gasped and took a step backward.

I snickered. “He’s pulling your leg, Veronica.”

The cop didn’t even smile. “I’m serious as a heartbeat. I arrived once at a traffic accident. I could hear someone calling for help clear as day. No one else was around. The car had careened down an embankment. My partner and I climbed down there because we could hear a woman shouting. When we got to the car, all the adult passengers were dead. Looked like they had been deceased for some time already. The only live person in the vehicle was a baby boy who was too young to speak.”

I studied his face, expecting him to break into laughter.

“You ask other cops who have been around for a while. I guarantee weird and inexplicable things have happened to them.” He nodded. “Mark my words and ask a cop.”

I assumed he didn’t know that I would be able to do just that!

His radio crackled. “I’d bet anything I’ll be called to the Old Stone House next.”

“Thank you so much,” I said to the police officer. “I wasn’t sure what to do.”

“No problem.”

“I’m sorry about the Old Stone House. I didn’t mean to make more work for you.”

He waved his hand. “No worries. It’s that time of year. Just give us a call if they return.” He walked slowly and stood on the stoop outside the door briefly as if he meant to be seen there.

Undeterred by his presence, a lady entered the store and spent some time perusing Hilda’s book. She presented it to Veronica and pulled out her wallet. “I wish I had been here last night. Is it true that she connected with a spirit?”

“We don’t really know,” I said hastily.

“She was overwhelmed by something,” Veronica gushed.

I shot her a look. She didn’t need to encourage the notion that a spirit had been present.

“I’d like to see if she could channel my husband,” said the woman.

As luck would have it, just as the woman spoke, Jacquie walked through the door and made a beeline to her. “Hilda would love to do that.” Jacquie looked at me. “Hilda didn’t get to do much channeling last night. Maybe we could rebook her.”

I’m sorry to admit that my first reaction was horror. Not another evening like that! “If you would like to leave your name and phone number, I would be happy to pass them on to Hilda.” I handed the lady a sheet of paper and tried to divert Jacquie’s attention. “Do you know Coralue Throckmorton?”

“Of course. She’s so sweet.”

The customer slid the paper with her name toward me. “I hope she will call me. I’m very eager to contact him.”

I smiled at her. “I’ll let her know.”

As the customer left, Jacquie snatched up her name and number. “I’m seeing Hilda later on today. I’ll pass this along to her.”

“Coralue says our street is going to be blocked off for Halloween this year.”

“What a brilliant idea! I noticed her wonderful decorations last night when we walked home. That coffin is marvelous! I’m writing a book right now that is tentatively titled The Midnight Spell. Decorating would put me in the spirit.” Jacquie paused. “I don’t know if we have any Halloween décor at the mansion. Is John here?”

“In his office.”

“Perfect. I’ll go up and talk to him about it.”

I took that opportunity to make my escape before I became embroiled in something else at the store. It had a way of sucking me in and keeping me there. With a quick wave to Veronica and Bob, I headed to Rose and Violet, a local flower shop run by none other than a woman named Rose and another named Violet.

When I browsed bouquets, Rose greeted me and asked, “Are these by any chance for Cyril?”

“How did you know?”

“Everyone is talking about him. Frankly,” she said, while selecting golden sunflowers, “I think everyone is on guard. It’s a miracle that you interrupted the attack. Is it true that his assailant was already in the house when you arrived?”

“Yes. I don’t know how he managed to get in.”

“We’re all a little bit uneasy.” She selected roses that matched the golden hues of the sunflowers, but each rose petal was outlined with orange. To that she added bright orange gerbera daisies. She assembled them in a vase and plunked thin black wires into it. Bats attached to the wires seemed to fly in the air. Instead of a ribbon, she inserted a stick that held a faux skull. “Cyril will love this. Please give him my best.”

“Could you whip up another one for Glen?” I asked.

“I’d love to. We miss seeing him. That was something, huh? A snake in the delivery truck. I’d have crashed, too!” Rose gathered flowers and made another bat-and-skull arrangement.

I paid Rose for the bouquets. “You must know Cyril pretty well.”

“He’s a good customer. I have standing orders for his wife’s grave. Every major holiday, her birthday, and the day she died.”

“That’s so sad.”

“He sends flowers to Roxie a lot, too. He’s a doting daddy.”

I thanked her and walked to the hospital. I found Cyril’s room easily and peeked inside the open door. I set one vase outside the room by the door.

Cyril stood by the window, gazing out. Fortunately, his hospital gown was completely closed in the back. He was attached to an IV drip on a pole with wheels.

“Cyril?” I said.

He turned around. “Florrie! My guardian angel!” He opened his arms wide to embrace me. After a hug, he held on to my upper arms. “I was just thinking of you. How can I ever repay you?”

His voice sounded different. A little quieter and strained. “Don’t be silly. I’m just glad that I happened along when I did. You’re the one in the hospital! How are you doing?” I set the vase of flowers on a bedside tray.

His fingers touched a large white bandage on his neck. “Better. But I’m worried about Roxie.”

“Roxie is fine.”

“No. She’s not.” He sat down in a chair near the window. “Those are beautiful. I love the skull. It reminds me of Harry!” He pointed to a plastic chair. “Close the door and have a seat, Florrie.”

I shut the door, perched on the chair, and faced him. “I take it they haven’t caught the perpetrator?”

“No. The police say it wasn’t personal. They think I interrupted a robbery. I own a Chinese ormolu clock from the 1700s that was passed down to me from my grandfather. It’s worth a considerable amount of money. Interestingly, they discovered it leaning against the outside of the house near a basement window.”

“Then it had to be someone who knew you,” I blurted. “And someone who knew the value of the clock.”

Cyril shrugged. “Maybe. It could have been someone who heard about the clock but was never in the house. Word gets around sometimes. Roxie or Finley might have mentioned it to a friend, who told someone else about it. Who knows? But it’s very disturbing.”

Cyril gazed at me, grim. “I know you care about Roxie. But I share this with you in the strictest confidence. Do I have your word that you won’t tell anyone?”