Chapter 16
It took some time for them to unroll the rug. When they did, the older cop walked toward us and lifted the crime scene tape. “Would you come with me, please?”
We followed him to the corpse.
“Now do you recognize him?”
Coralue and I peered at the body of a man. He did look familiar.
Coralue gasped.
In that moment, it came to me. “Manny Menz,” I said.
Coralue moaned like he was her very best friend. She leaned forward for a closer look. “Yes. I believe you’re right. It’s Manny. The kid from the bakery.”
But why would he be in a rug in her yard? That was definitely odd. However, a bigger question loomed. Why was Manny dead?
I honestly didn’t think that Coralue had murdered Manny, and if she had, she was savvy enough not to bury his body in her own yard where someone would surely notice it. But why was she already thinking about calling a lawyer?
“When was the last time you saw him?” asked the older cop.
I hoped my panic wouldn’t show. I had nothing to do with whatever had happened to Manny. But he had tried to steal Harry. Would that be considered an argument? A confrontation? It wasn’t like I had anything to hide. Still I tried to choose my words wisely and accurately. It was after midnight. Was it accurate to say night before last? He glared at me like I was taking too long to answer. “The night before last a psychic read from her book at Color Me Read. Manny came to hear her. I saw him there.”
“What time was that?”
“Must have been around seven thirty or eight o’clock.”
“Did you see him today?”
“No.” I breathed a little easier.
“You’re sure about that?”
What was he getting at? “Positive.” I wasn’t about to admit it to this cop, but everyone who worked in the store would have been on the alert for him, especially today because Manny had tried to steal Harry. I hadn’t been there, but surely Bob or Veronica would have phoned me if Manny had come to the store again. I reconsidered my stance. Maybe I should tell the cop that Manny tried to steal the skull. If he found out from someone else, he might think I was keeping something important from him intentionally.
Coralue tugged me and Frodo into a dark, shadowy corner of her yard. From where we stood, the orange lights twinkling from her trees only made the scene surrounding the coffin more surreal. Silhouettes of people, probably neighbors, began to appear on the sidewalk, their murmuring a haunting sound in the night.
Coralue still clutched my arm when she said in a whisper, “It’s my son.”
“Manny is your son?”
“No. Manny had a run-in with my son. It was over a judo competition. My son, Hayes, says Manny cheated. They’ve been arguing ever since.” Her grip on my arm tightened.
“Maybe you do need to consult a lawyer. Is your son in town?”
“Yes, of course. He lives in a house over on O Street.”
“Surely their tiff wouldn’t have ended in murder?” I asked with hope.
Coralue took a deep breath. “I believe I’ll step inside to call our lawyer. He usually handles wills and such, but maybe he’ll know where to send me for advice.”
I watched as her small figure receded and disappeared inside her house. I looked back at the police milling around the spotlights. Poor Manny. What a horrible end to his life.
Eager to avoid anyone chatty who had lined up on the sidewalk to see what was going on, I steered Frodo through a couple of bushes to the neighboring property that belonged to Gene Germain.
Frodo and I jumped when someone screamed. As far as I could tell, we had set off a talking skeleton that appeared to be trapped in the bushes. Frodo wasn’t sticking around for it. He tugged at his leash, desperate to get away.
Gene’s yard was like walking into a horror movie. A face with deranged eyes peered out at us from a window. A giant spider guarded the front door. Trick-or-treaters would have to walk between its legs to collect candy. Even worse, the spider had captured a desperate zombie in his web. On the other side of the lawn, a clown was begging to be let out of a jail cell. A glow-in-the-dark sign hung on it that said, Do not feed the clown.
We must have triggered something in the clown because his begging turned into a deep, scary voice that issued threats. We ran to the sidewalk and walked home.
In the morning, my alarm clock went off far too early for my taste. It had been a late night and I longed to stay in bed. Frodo poked my face with his cold nose a couple of times. Apparently, he wasn’t as pooped as I was.
After a shower, I dressed in a black-and-white houndstooth skirt with black tights and a tomato-red turtleneck sweater. My long hair air-drying, I hurried to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
Somewhat caffeine-fortified, I took Frodo for his morning walk. Naturally, we ambled in the direction of Coralue’s home. A couple of police officers were still working there, ignoring the passersby.
Traffic slowed as drivers craned their necks to get a better look.
Gene Germain, a portly fellow whom I judged to be in his sixties, watched with great interest. According to Mr. DuBois, who knew all the neighborhood gossip, Germain was a semiretired lawyer who courted the neighborhood widows in hopes of home-cooked meals.
Frodo greeted Gene’s bulldog, excited to see another canine.
“Good morning.” Gene held his hand out to me to shake. “Florrie Fox, if I’m not mistaken?”
“Yes. And this is Frodo.”
“He’s a good-looking fellow. Liberty always enjoys meeting other dogs. Would you by any chance know what happened here?”
Ugh. I skipped over my own involvement in the matter. “Manny Menz from the bakery was buried in Coralue’s flower bed.”
“Is Coralue all right?” he asked.
“She’s quite shaken.”
“I can imagine. I was ready to make jokes about going to extremes with her Halloween decorations, but this is truly disturbing. Manny . . . little guy? Lots of dark hair?”
“I’m afraid so.”
His eyebrows rose. “I figured his boorish ways would catch up to him. I’ve seen it too many times. Bad eggs never end up well.”
That was interesting. Maybe his behavior with the skull was the kind of thing he did all the time. “Was he in trouble with the law?”
“Not that I know of. But he associated with reprehensible people. I warned him to clean up his act. You know how kids are, though. They never take good advice. Nice meeting you and Frodo.” He and Liberty drifted away on their morning walk.
Frodo and I went home for breakfast.
Peaches’s meal of pumpkin and chicken smelled more enticing than the cold yogurt I had opened for myself. It was worrisome to me that the canned cat food was more attractive than my own breakfast, which I turned my nose up at.
Keeping an eye on my clock collection, so I wouldn’t be late opening the store, I fed Frodo and packed a dozen cupcakes in a bag to take to work with me. I was putting the rest in the fridge when someone knocked on the door.
I peered out the window. Mr. DuBois again.
“Good morning,” I said, opening the door.
He marched inside carrying a tray, which he deposited on my coffee table. He lifted the cover off a plate. “English breakfast tea just the way you like it and cinnamon-apple pancakes with maple syrup.”
Except for the time when Eric was staying with me while he healed from an accident, Mr. DuBois had never done this. I was immediately suspicious.
“To what do I owe this luxury?”
“You were very kind to allow me to stay, er, clean here yesterday. And I’ve heard via the domestic grapevine that you might have been involved in the chaos in Coralue’s front yard?”
I had to love the nosy guy. “No one will be at the mansion today?” I guessed.
He whipped out a napkin and held it up. “Please eat before your food gets cold.”
He didn’t have to ask me twice. I took a bite of the pancakes. They were redolent of autumn flavors and I could see apples inside them. I turned my head to see where he had gone.
Peaches was rubbing against his legs! My instinct was to leap up and remove her so she wouldn’t bother him, but then I realized that he was whispering to her. I could hear her purring.
I tried not to chuckle and ate my breakfast.
Mr. DuBois sat down opposite me. “Is it true that Manny Menz is dead?”
“I’m afraid so.” I filled him in on the phone call from the bookstore and the discovery of Manny’s corpse.
He sat quietly for a moment, musing. “It had to be a ghost. Possibly even Manny’s ghost.”
I finished the last bite of pancake. “I don’t understand.”
“The phone call from the bookstore. I’ve heard of such things before. Deceased husbands calling from the wife’s home when she needed help. That sort of thing. It happens.”
I doubted that. But I questioned the wisdom of arguing about it with him. I would have to get someone in to have a look at the phone system in the store.
Mr. DuBois made a tent with his fingers. “Miss Florrie, I fear we have a problem. Maxwell and Jacqueline are having a tiff over Hilda Rattenhorst.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Maxwell believes that Hilda is a charlatan, intent on taking advantage of Jacquie. Jacquie, on the other hand, hopes that Hilda will be able to lead her to Caroline.”
“That’s very sad. Poor Jacquie. If a child of mine had gone missing, I think I might feel the same way.”
“I can see how easy it would be to trick a bereaved parent,” said Mr. DuBois. “I come to this dilemma from a different point of view than Maxwell. I fully believe in ghosts and that some people have the ability to contact them.”
I sipped my tea. “The professor says there is no scientific evidence of ghosts.”
“Once upon a time, we thought the world was flat. And that atoms were the smallest unit of matter. Imagine all the things we may not yet have figured out. Just because current science proclaims that ghosts are preposterous does not mean they aren’t here. Just ask anyone who has encountered one.”
He had a point. “Mr. DuBois, it was very kind of you to bring me breakfast. It was delicious. However, I sense that you are here to request something of me.”
The left side of Mr. DuBois’s mouth twitched. “It would have been less complicated had Maxwell rented the carriage house to someone I could manipulate more easily.”
I laughed at his droll humor. “You don’t have to bribe me. What is it that you want?”
“Maxwell and Jacquie had been getting along so well. She’s the only one of his wives who was tolerable. I fear that if we don’t take some sort of action, they will separate once again. Jacquie will end up with a loser and Maxwell will brood and go off on dangerous adventures.”
“And you will worry yourself sick about them.”
“They’re far better together. They’re meant to be together. I don’t say that lightly. There are far too many mismatched marriages. But the professor and Jacquie are like bread and butter. He’s a little crusty, and she’s a mellow softy.”
Though Veronica might claim differently, because I had warned her about dating questionable men, I wasn’t in the habit of interfering with people’s love lives. But I agreed with Mr. DuBois. The professor had been much happier since Jacquie came back into his life. “What do you have in mind?”
“I thought perhaps we might introduce Jacquie to a gentleman who would take an interest in her. A little bit of jealousy could convince Maxwell that life with Jacquie is worth indulging her interest in the paranormal.”
“Ohhh, Mr. DuBois. I see your point, but interfering with their relationship that way could lead to disaster. What if Maxwell doesn’t react as you hope? I’m not so sure about that.”
“Or we could arrange for Maxwell to see a ghost.”
He said it so simply, so airily, as if it would be easy to accomplish. “Mr. DuBois, if we did that, he would throw us both out.”
“Nonsense. He needs us.”
“Not that much! He would lose all faith in us.”
“What if a male ghost were interested in Jacquie?” asked Mr. DuBois.
I nearly spewed my tea. “Then the professor would definitely break up with Jacquie and think we had all lost our marbles!”
“I shall ponder this. Halloween might be an excellent opportunity to help Maxwell reconsider his position.”
I tried to discourage him delicately. “I’m not sure, Mr. DuBois. Your heart is in the right place, but in my experience, trying to trick people always backfires.”
“I shall take your advice under consideration. In the meantime, I should like to wash your windows today.”
“You are more than welcome to simply enjoy yourself without cleaning.”
“Thank you, Miss Florrie.” He collected the tray and set it beside the sink. “I do love your garden. The mansion garden is grand and formal. It’s lovely, but there’s something very Zen and calming about the small world of the carriage house garden.”
It sounded silly but I understood what he meant. An avid gardener had planted it with great forethought. It was an amazing place to lounge. Almost like a magical forest. Even though we were in the nation’s capital, where life proceeded at a frenzied pace, that tiny garden felt removed from it all.
I brushed my teeth and said good-bye to Peaches and Mr. DuBois. Grabbing my jean jacket and Frodo’s leash, I set off for the store.
Between regular business and everyone talking about Manny and the foot in the rug, the morning passed quickly. The social media news about Hilda and her premonition of a foot in a rug and murder brought more people into the store. We were ridiculously busy, even with all three of us working. There were those who seemed intent on finding a ghost or a dead man, but a lot of them were immediately intrigued by books.
As soon as I had a chance, I called the company that had installed our phone system. It seemed to be working fine at the moment, but after the false call the night before and the strange scream, I thought we’d better have it checked out.
“Maybe we should have Hilda come back again,” suggested Bob. “This is crazy. Business is booming!”
I hated to admit it, but maybe I would have to relent and invite Hilda back before Halloween.
At ten minutes past one in the afternoon I was momentarily distracted by Roxie running into the store and dashing to the parlor with uncharacteristic speed.