I spent the rest of the day shining windows, scrubbing floors, and giving the house a general airing out. I’m not that particular when it’s just me, or even a relative, but I wanted strangers to refer to me as house proud. It sounded better than slob. Not that I wanted anyone in my house, but it was too late to cancel now.
The last time I invited a group of people to hang out in my home was a fourth-grade slumber party. This time Auntie did the inviting. Short of calling them back and uninviting them, which would give rise to Auntie’s wrath, I was stuck.
The business cards that Auntie left out for Sharlene were still on the kitchen table, and as I wiped it down, I stuck them in the back pocket of my jeans.
I hadn’t said anything to Auntie about my talk with Father Damien. I figured this event was already planned, it was in the name of a good cause, and there was no way in Heaven or Hell that Auntie would successfully contact the dead. Still, the thought of passing out invitations to evil spirits kept flitting into my head.
I left the cooking to Auntie. She whipped up a hot Mexican dip appetizer with chips, mini baked spinach quiches, and bacon-wrapped water chestnuts with barbeque sauce. I took over cutting veggies and mixing dip for the veggie tray, and I cheated on the deli tray with pre-sliced meats and cheeses.
“What’s to drink?” I asked.
“Same thing I always serve. Plenty of hot coffee.” She motioned toward the refrigerator. “I don’t think that ginger ale you bought me has gone flat yet.”
It was going to take something stronger than flat ginger ale and coffee to help me make it through the evening. I made a quick trip to the liquor store for bottled water, cold beer, wine—both red and white—and then I added margarita mix and a bottle of tequila in case the evening went sour and I needed extra bucking up. As a last-minute purchase, I got a new bottle of ginger ale for Auntie.
When I returned home, I left the bags in the car and trotted over to my neighbor’s house. I wasn’t interested in hosting a neighborhood block party, but maybe Auntie was right. If I ever found a homicidal maniac waiting inside my home, as I had last month, it would be nice to have names to attach to my shrieks for help.
Sharlene Walker opened the door and immediately invited me in.
“I can’t stay. We’re having a few people over tonight. I just wanted to drop off my aunt’s business cards. You left them behind the other day.”
She took them and then insisted I come in. “Oh, just for a minute. I know when I’ve had relatives in the house, a break was always welcome.”
I couldn’t argue with that, so I followed her into the living room. The curtains were open, which made the room light and airy. Sharlene had a distinctly feminine taste, with soft palettes and frills. A magazine lay face down and open on a pretty floral loveseat with a ruffled skirt. From behind the couch, a professional photograph of a younger Sharlene and a burly, pleasant-looking man looked down on the occupants of the room, which included a small, curly-haired mutt.
“That’s Mimi.” Sharlene switched to baby talk. “Wook who’s here, Sweetums. Maybe the nice lady will scratch your ears if you ask nicely.”
I obliged. The dog looked up at me with the saddest eyes, but I didn’t take it seriously, because I think it’s a trick animals use to get treats. Sharlene moved the magazine and invited me to sit next to her.
“So, is it a party?” Sharlene leaned forward, a bright smile on her face, as if my answer really mattered.
“Not really. It’s more of a, well, it’s something to do with the murder.”
She shuddered and covered her heart, which seemed to be a habit with her. “Gives me the shivers just thinking about it. I can’t imagine how horrible it was for you to find a body.” She took a sip from a glass that was sitting on the end table. “Actually, I do. I found my late husband one morning last June.” She turned her head to smile up at the photograph.
“I thought I’d let him sleep in because it was the weekend. He always worked so hard during the week. When he hadn’t gotten up by ten o’clock, which was very unusual for him, I thought I’d give him a shake. You know how it is. Sleep too long and you’re awake for hours the next night.” She turned one hand palms up. “He never got up again.”
“How awful.”
“That’s life.”
She took another sip.
“I’ve still got Ricky, my son, so it’s not like I’m alone.” She moved the dog to her lap and gave it a snuggle. “And my little Mimi. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
She went on to tell me about the great accomplishments that took up all of Ricky’s free time and made it difficult for him to fit in visits to his mother’s house. I half-listened, nodding when appropriate and adding noises of appreciation.
This went on for some time, and I slipped a peek at my watch. It was a quarter after five. At least I thought that was what it read, because the watch face began to blur. I blinked a few times without success. My focus remained foggy. Maybe Auntie was right, and I needed glasses. At least that’s what I thought before my insides filled with an aching sorrow and a sense of helplessness so strong that I rubbed the center of my chest. An urge to keen rose in the back of my throat, and only by clamping my jaws tight was I able to avoid a full wail. Still, a low whine escaped, which I covered by clearing my throat several times.
Sharlene paused. “Do you need a drink of water?”
Afraid to open my mouth, I nodded. She trotted off to the kitchen, leaving Mimi on the couch. The dog stared at me with a penetrating look that gave me a shiver. Was Mimi the source of this awful, empty feeling? Was she sad? Sick? Did she still miss her “daddy”? Not my problem.
Sharlene returned with my water. I drank it down and stood.
“Why don’t you come over tonight?” The words were out before the idea formed a solid thought in my head.
Sharlene cocked her head. “Me? But what about your murder?”
“It’s actually a séance that Auntie’s giving for the suspects.”
She rubbed her arms. At least she didn’t put her hand over her heart again. “That sounds creepy.”
“Don’t worry. Auntie can’t really channel spirits. She’s putting on a show, and if I can say so without making her sound egotistical, Auntie loves a big audience.”
“Are you sure I won’t be in the way?” She reached out and patted Mimi on the head, and contact with the dog seemed to decide it for her. “No. I couldn’t. I hate to leave my sweetie all alone.”
“Bring her along. The more the merrier.”
She flashed a sweet smile. “I’ll come.”
The dog’s brown eyes met mine, and she lifted her brows. I was certain the achy feeling I’d just experienced came from Mimi, so I narrowed my eyes and gave her a look that said she better not pull anything like that tonight.
It had become apparent from the frolicking ghost of poor, dead Bonzo and now this depressed pooch on the floor that no matter how hard I tried to block out images, no matter how strong a mental barrier I used, animals with something urgent to say were going to force their way into my head. It might be time to consider a lobotomy.
I wondered how Chauncey would react to his new playmate, but as I swung open the door to my house, bags in hand, it appeared there were bigger, more urgent problems. Auntie stood on the couch and waved her hands at me in warning. Chauncey, safely beside her, barked nonstop, and Emily joined in the noise, hissing from atop the bookcase.
“What’s wrong?”
Auntie whispered, “Don’t move.”
I lowered my bags to the floor, searching for the source of danger. They were all staring down around my ankles. “Is there a rattlesnake in the house?” I whispered. A low, drawn out sound like the squeal of worn out brakes came from behind me.
“What the flipping—”
Coming at me in an awkward, loping run, hooked beak open and ready to chomp down, was Petey the Cockatoo. I ran.
I dodged left, and the bird followed like a seasoned linebacker. When he followed me right, I turned tail and put the coffee table between me and the angry bird, but Petey came around the corner, head lowered and looking for blood.
We circled the coffee table three times before I thought to grab one of the paper grocery bags as a way to capture my pursuer. On the next pass, I dumped the contents safely on the couch, while Chauncey barked, and Auntie shouted.
“He’s gaining on you!”
I turned to face my assailant.
Petey skid to a halt, fluffed his wings, and squawked. In a crouch, I crept forward, and once close enough, I dropped the bag over his head. He fought like a trooper, but I held firm until I got him to the open door of his cage and dumped him inside.
Auntie held out her hand. “Help me down. I thought he could use some exercise, and he was fine at first. Really. But then he got this horrible gleam in his eye and went for me.”
A small trickle of blood ran down her ankle. I retrieved a damp cloth and some adhesive bandages from the medicine cabinet and patched her up.
“I wonder if birds carry diseases,” I wondered aloud. “Maybe you should have this looked at.”
“It’s a scratch.” She turned her ankle and considered my work. “I don’t suppose you have any of those clear bandages? They’d look better with my new sandals.”
“I’m not going back to the store. Besides, your Madame Guinevere muumuu is so long, no one will see.”
I still needed to change, which meant borrowing my own bedroom. As I rummaged through the closet, Auntie talked to me through the closed door.
“I’ve been thinking. The tarot card business isn’t paying like it used to. Maybe I should move on to other things.”
“Really?” Knowing that I wouldn’t have to repeat my talk with Father Damien took a load off my shoulders. “I think that’s a sound decision.”
“I’ve been toying with the idea of broadening my skill set.”
“What skill set?”
I didn’t hear what came next; I had a sweater wrapped around my head as I struggled into it. Then I tried on a pair of pants, looked into the full-length mirror on the back of my door, and realizing I wasn’t going to lose ten pounds in the next half hour, took them off again. I didn’t even bother to hang them back up. They were headed for Goodwill.
“Sissy? Are you listening to me?”
“Sure,” I lied. “Sounds like a great idea.”
“Thank you, honey. I guess I just needed to hear that from someone objective.”
By the time Penny showed up, I had on a peacock-blue sweater and black jeans. Auntie wore a dark purple Muumuu with a shiny gold pattern around the sleeves and a dazzling large crystal necklace around her neck. Her hair was in the usual bun, but she had tied it together with a purple flower. She looked as if she might break into a hula dance.
“I am so excited,” Penny said, rushing into Auntie’s arms for a big hug.
“Where’s your young man? I want to meet him.”
“He couldn’t come.” Penny looked at the floor. “Nothing to do with you or the séance. I think he was just put off by the whole murder business.”
“Could be,” Auntie said. “But at least he let you come.”
Penny flushed. “Let me? Oh, we don’t let each other do things. We’re a couple, but we’re independent and perfectly capable of having our own interests. For instance, he may like powder-blue for the groomsmen tuxedos, and I might like deep gray, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love each other!”
She chased the outburst with some hysterical laughter.
The doorbell rang again. Auntie took her by the arm and moved her out of the way while I opened the door. The happy trio—Lola, Bea, and Jane—beamed at me.
“Welcome,” I said, stepping aside.
“Planning a wedding is a bucketful of stress,” Auntie said to Penny. “Why, I remember my mother-in-law insisted on wearing white. That was back in the days when people had the good manners to avoid competing with the bride. Said it was her signature color.” She snorted. “Black would have been more like it. That woman had a temper like the devil.”
“Mother-in-laws?” Bea threw up her hands. “I called mine the chupacabra for the first year we were married. Then I find out she’s just intimidated by my tamales.” She jabbed her chest with her thumb. “I should go pro, mine are so good.”
“Mine was a saint,” Jane said, her lips twitching.
“We have to keep an eye on Doris,” Lola said. “Clark’s mother is fond of betting on the horses.”
“What did you all do about your wedding problems?” Penny asked.
Auntie smiled. “You’ll learn to choose your battles. There was no way that three-hundred-pound horse-faced woman was going to give me any competition by wearing a white dress to my wedding.” She winked. “I was a looker back then.”
Bea shrugged. “I lied. I asked for her tamale recipe, saying that her little boy was pining for them.”
“Mine was a saint,” Jane repeated.
“Choose my battles,” Penny repeated thoughtfully, several times, as if memorizing a new mantra, and the women clucked around her like she was an orphaned chick and led her into the kitchen.
I took a last look around and found my place presentable except for the large dog stretched out on the couch.
“Off.” I pointed at the floor.
Chauncey stretched with a groan and stared at me.
“If you don’t move your fanny, I’m taking you back to the pound.” I pointed at the bedroom.
He put his front feet on the floor, stretched out his back legs one at a time to show he wasn’t in a hurry to do my bidding, and then trotted off to the hallway. When I reached out for Emily, she made a break for the top of the bookcase. The doorbell rang, and I left her to run free.
Elvira Jenkins’ bereaved family members stood on the doorstep. Bull stepped in with a warm “Howdy” and went in search of Auntie.
“Calling my mother back from the dead seems a little sick,” Tim said. He was dressed in a dark suit, something one might wear to a funeral, and his gaze darted around the room as if he expected to see a big picture of Elvira surrounded by candles and incense. “I don’t like the idea. Not that I believe it’s going to work, but it lacks respect.”
Happy to declare myself free of any culpability, I spread out my hands and shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to do with it.”
Catherine, contrasting her husband’s somber look with a soft peach silk suit and a soothing smile, took her husband’s arm and led him into my home. “I’ve never been to a séance. It sounds… interesting.” The bright smile she offered strained a bit at the edges, but she seemed determined to make the best of the evening.
“I promise you that my aunt thinks she’s helping, and she has the best intentions. At least there will be good food. And I bought alcohol to make the evening go down better.”
I mentioned a decent brand of beer. That mollified Tim, while Catherine preferred white wine. While I retrieved the beverages, Donna Pederson arrived, and soon I’d slipped into the role of hostess. Just because I didn’t like to entertain didn’t mean I wasn’t familiar with the protocol. Mother had wrangled me into helping her at family functions. I cooed convincingly over arriving guests as if I was happy to see them and urged people to fill up their plates from the buffet set out on my kitchen table.
Auntie wandered the room, warming up her audience. While speaking with Sonny Street, she suddenly grabbed his hand and turned it palm up.
“Let’s see what your career line says.”
He looked around, embarrassed, to see if anyone was listening. No one was, except me. I moved over and asked Auntie, in my most cheerful voice, what she thought she was doing.
“Reading his palm, of course.”
“Why?”
“I told you. I’m expanding my resume. Now be quiet. I’m still new at this, and I need to focus.”
“See anything good?” Sonny had moved as far away from Auntie as he could without leaving his hand behind. It made me think of those lizards that can detach from their tails to escape from predators.
“There it is!” Auntie poked at one of his lines. “You’ve got a big payoff coming up soon.”
Suddenly Sonny wasn’t so worried about what people thought about him having his palm read. He stepped closer and looked over his hand with interest.
Auntie, still too professional to speak in certainties, qualified her statement.
“A big job. Or maybe it’s a job at a big venue. Whatever it is, something big is coming your way.”
“Hey. Maybe I’ll get a job at Cesar’s Palace. That’s always been my dream.”
“Could be.”
She grabbed Catherine Jenkins’ hand next.
“Sorry, but I only know how to do career lines.” Auntie squinted. “Ooh! I see something exotic for you.”
Catherine sputtered with laughter. “Only if Wolf Creek is exotic.”
“Maybe I got the wrong line. Let me try again.”
“Shouldn’t you get moving on the séance?” I asked, prying Catherine’s hand from Auntie’s grip.
Sharlene Walker arrived just then, holding Mimi. She scanned the room. “You’re sure it’s alright that I’m here?”
“Of course. Chauncey is locked up in the bedroom, so I could either put Mimi in there or outside.”
“Can’t she stay with me?” She clutched the little dog closer.
“I wouldn’t want anyone to step on her.” Never having owned a small dog, I assumed this was a major concern.
“She’s very good at dodging feet.” Sharlene kissed the dog’s nose. “Aren’t you, Sweetums?”
I motioned her inside. “Why not? Bring her in.”
Bull raised a hand in greeting, and she moved to join him. Auntie watched her cross the room and came over to me.
“Did you invite her?”
I hadn’t thought about Sharlene in terms of competition for Bull’s attention. “I thought she might like it. Shouldn’t I have?”
Auntie kissed my cheek. “You’re a good girl, Sissy.”
I wasn’t expecting that, but I was happy to cross one worry off my list. Now I just had to make it through the séance. You’d never have known that anything as unusual as communicating with the dead was on the agenda. Everyone was chatting and mixing as if they had been invited to a simple, normal cocktail party. I barely heard the light rap on the front door over the noise of conversation.
Detective Martin Bowers looked down at me, and I wasn’t surprised by his scowl.
“Not my idea.”
“Auntie?”
“You got it.”
He yanked me outside and pulled the door shut.
“If we keep meeting out here, I’ll have to set up chairs on the driveway, so we can be more comfortable.”
“Frankie, what is your aunt trying to prove? That she’s not a suspect? Because an attempt to locate the murderer using voodoo will not count in her favor. We have all sorts of convicted criminals in prison who offered to help us with our case before we nabbed them for the crime.”
“Not the same situation at all. Those people probably wanted to follow the investigation to find out how much you knew. Auntie doesn’t really give two pins about what the police are doing. She’s just having her version of fun. And you’re not required to say a thing tonight. You’ve been invited to observe the suspects in close quarters.”
“How thoughtful. And your aunt is going to magically pull the murderer out of a hat at the end of the night? Because we police require proof, not hocus-pocus guesswork.”
His words were delivered in an even tone, but the glance he darted toward the house reflected his discomfort. The idea of dark rooms and moaning old women communing with the dead obviously did not appeal to him.
“First off,” I said, “this could be amusing. Auntie’s never tried a séance. She hasn’t a clue what she’s doing.”
“That could be dangerous,” he said. I remembered Father Damien’s words with a start.
“Dangerous?” A weak, nervous laugh escaped my lips.
“I know you think the occult is a big joke, but I’ve seen the effects on kids who’ve dabbled, and there’s nothing funny about it. They get involved in some pretty serious stuff.”
I crossed my arms. “Really? So, you’re telling me the secret to gang member success is to hold a séance? Instead of whipping out a gun, they pull out a deck of tarot cards? I think you might be exaggerating just a teeny bit.”
“It’s not the gang members who get involved in that crap. It’s usually kids from well-to-do families with too much time on their hands and not enough guidance from mommy and daddy. And they don’t play with cards. They torture and kill innocent animals. And it usually starts out with something as simple as a Ouija board.”
The quiet, even tone he used to pass on this shocking information frightened me more than if he had shouted in my face.
“Okay, but this is just a silly old woman playacting. It’s not Satanic,” I said, determined to ignore any possibility of an uninvited guest making a sudden appearance and sweeping us all down to Hades. “And it could be useful, too. If you can keep from laughing, you might actually catch a response that means something to your highly trained eyes and ears.”
He stared with great interest at his fingernails. “Then your aunt isn’t seriously involved in spiritualism?”
“Let’s see.” I pretended to think. “I threw three fits today when she used my favorite t-shirt as a dish towel, and when I finished what I thought was a spectacularly clear expression of rage, she asked me if something was bothering me. So, not only is she not sensitive to vibes—spiritual or worldly—she can’t even see what’s in front of her face.” I didn’t mention that her blind spot only applied to me.
His shoulders relaxed. “So, what’s the point of this evening?”
“Auntie thinks the suspects, I mean guests, might be thrown off balance by the thought of Elvira Jenkins naming her murderer through a medium. She also thinks your impressive presence might intimidate them, and she swears that’s the right approach to get the killer to let something slip. Not a confession, but maybe a contradiction, or a bit of information they didn’t mean to make public.”
“The idea has merits.” He took a step toward me, lowered his face next to mine, and said with a joking growl in his voice, “Do you really think I’m an impressive presence?”
No reason to mention that with him standing so close, his cheek practically touching mine, I’d forgotten how to breathe.
Auntie saved the day. She whipped open the door. “There you are! Stop hogging the nice detective, Sissy.”
Auntie grabbed Bowers’ wrist and pulled him inside, and he looked over his shoulder at me and mouthed a silent scream. As I followed him in, I noticed my laughter was the only noise in my living room. The bright, friendly chatter stopped, for an obvious reason. The cop was here, and they were all suspects.
Catherine Jenkins broke the ice. She walked up to Bowers and took his hand in both of hers. “On behalf of the family, thank you for agreeing to come tonight.” She motioned to include all those present. “We’re all so grateful for the hard work the Wolf Creek police department has put into investigating the unfortunate death of my mother-in-law, and we’re certain that you will find the person responsible and bring them to justice. And it’s very, um, open-minded of you to come to a séance.”
Catherine must have been very successful at her public relations job.
“Here, here,” said Sonny, toasting the air with his drink. The rest of the guests murmured their agreement.
Bravo, Catherine. She’d succeeded in turning a room of potential suspects into a group of concerned citizens interested in justice. Not to be outdone, Heather Ozu came forward.
“The Baking Channel, especially Blue-Ribbon Babes, have full confidence in the Wolf Creek police.”
Sonny joined the procession.
“We sure do. All of us want this tragedy behind us. It’s hard to make people laugh if they’re wondering about the corpse found on the set.” He was the only one who laughed at his joke.
Bowers shook hands with everyone in the room as they each gave a short speech about how wonderful the police had been and what a huge hole the murder of Elvira Jenkins left in their lives. As the widower, Bull was allowed to simply shake hands and be done with it. Donna was the lone dissenter in the room.
“I’m just a tiny bit concerned about this—about tonight. There’s already been a great deal of coverage in the newspapers about the murder, and they insist on mentioning names. When people type Donna Pederson into their Internet search engines, I’m worried that the top results will be about the murder. And while people can read those stories and see that I’m not involved in any way, I certainly don’t want the second-highest ranked search result to be about a séance. People might get the wrong idea about me.”
Bowers held her gaze, a keen light in his eyes. “Am I speaking to the new Blue-Ribbon Queen?”
Heather Ozu inserted herself into the conversation.
“That hasn’t been officially announced yet.” She turned an irritated glare on Donna. “And I’m not sure what you’re so worried about. Anyone looking for the Blue-Ribbon Queen is going to search for just that term. No one would know Donna Pederson from Adam right now.”
“Right now,” Donna repeated. To Bowers she said, “I just can’t imagine that having a séance is a good idea. I mean, some people actually believe in this nonsense. I think it’s cruel to raise the hopes of Elvira’s family.”
Auntie was quick to deflect this criticism. “Elvira will not hesitate to speak if she has something to say. Since she was knocked on the noggin,” someone gasped, “my apologies, but she was hit on the back of the head, she may not have seen who took her life and she may have absolutely nothing to say.”
“She always had something to say,” Tim said with a nervous laugh.
Now that Auntie had lowered the expectations of the group and couldn’t be blamed when nothing happened, she herded us into a circle that included the couch and several chairs, including metal folding chairs we’d borrowed from the Women’s Guild at St. Mel’s with Penny’s help. I hadn’t anticipated the arrival of Bea, Jane, and Lola, so I retrieved a stool from the closet for additional seating.
The family was given the place of honor on the couch. Sharlene managed to squeeze in next to Bull. Auntie claimed my comfortable reading chair as her own, and there was a scramble for my kitchen chairs, which at least had cushions. I got stuck with a hard folding chair, and Bowers took the stool to my right.
On my other side, Donna sat ramrod straight, her lips pressed together in prim disapproval.
“Now, if we could all hold hands,” Auntie instructed. “Sissy, you get the lights.”
I flicked the switch by the hallway and then felt my way back in the dark. Bowers reached out a hand and directed me into my chair, so I could rejoin the circle.
Donna’s clasp felt limp, clammy and cool, while Bowers had a firm grip. His fingers, wrapped around mine, were warm and strong.
Auntie took a deep breath and let the air out in a long hiss. “There are several non-believers here. That’s alright, but I ask you to open your minds to whatever might happen. Don’t repel the spirits intentionally.”
Bowers leaned in and whispered in my ear. “You mean I can put an end to this whole thing through sheer will power?”
His warm breath tickled. I shuddered. “Behave yourself.”
“Ahem.” Auntie cleared her throat. “I need silence.” She made us wait a few minutes while she hummed and moaned, calling out to the spirit of Elvira. I wondered what she planned to do. Was she going to imitate Elvira’s voice? That would be embarrassing.
“I sense a presence in the room.”
“I counted thirteen,” Bowers whispered, “including the dog.” I squeezed his hand to shut him up.
“Elvira, are you there?” Auntie said in a raised voice. My eyes had adjusted to the dark with the help of peripheral light that came through the front window. Auntie’s eyes were open but vacant, a look I’d seen her try out on tarot clients who probed too deeply with questions. In those instances, she had consulted her spirit guides and then said the information was not available to the Earthbound. If only we could be that lucky tonight.
Auntie closed her eyes. “We seek your counsel. I don’t know if you recall, honey, but you were sent to the spiritual plane by an act of violence, perpetrated by someone with a bad attitude.”
I leaned into Bowers and spoke out of the side of my mouth. “I wish Auntie’s parish priest could hear this. It’s worth at least ten Hail Mary’s.”
He snorted in response.
Auntie cracked open one eye. “Is that you, Elvira? I can’t quite hear you. There’s a distraction on my end.”
Duly chastised, Bowers and I sat up and wiped the grins from our faces.
“That’s better.” Auntie’s eyes were closed again. She spoke her next lines in a lowered voice with rounded tones. She might have been imitating a television spoof on psychic rip-offs. “We need you to point to the murderer.”
“How can she point if she’s a spirit?” Sonny asked.
Catherine barked out a laugh, and Heather shushed him.
“Seriously. She won’t have fingers.”
Auntie gave him the look that used to send my cousins and me scurrying to hide out in the storm cellar. He bowed his head. There’s nothing like an old woman’s scorn to generate shame.
Again, she let the silence build.
People squirmed, and one of the metal folding chairs made a popping noise.
My nose itched. I let go of Donna’s hand and scratched.
Suddenly, the room filled with shrill screeches. “Meow! Meow! MEOW!”
With the last shriek, an image of Emily leapt into my head. Her lips were curled back in a ferocious snarl, and yellow eyes gleamed with murderous intent. I felt Bowers go rigid.
Maybe I jumped back at the sudden, larger-than-life picture of my normally sweet kitty performing her role as demon cat, but it felt more like a hand grabbed my shoulders and shoved me, hard. My chair flew back and hit the floor, with me still in it, and the motion knocked the breath out of me.
Bowers was at my side in an instant. “Frankie.” He tapped my face. “Frankie!”
I wheezed out a cough. “I’m not unconscious, so you can stop slapping me.” I rolled onto my knees and he helped me up. Someone turned on the lights, and I saw everyone’s expressions. If I could have breathed, I would have laughed.
Tim looked slightly curious but mostly irritated. Catherine cocked her head to one side and her eyebrows joined together. Sharlene looked around with wonder. Clearly, she thought this was part of the show.
Donna leaned as far away from me as she could get without tipping off her chair. Sonny Street studied me as if wondering how he could work something that attention-getting into his act without looking like an idiot. Heather thought I had the plague. Penny’s hands were clasped together in delight, and Auntie looked like a bull about to charge. Bea looked uncertain. Lola was enjoying herself, and Jane disapproved. And Bull? He just looked concerned.
I gave a weak grin.
“I forgot to lock Petey up. My cat must have taken a shot at him, and it surprised the heck out of me.”
All eyes moved to the covered birdcage in the corner of the room. Emily was nowhere in sight, but she moves pretty fast. She was probably hiding under someone’s chair right now.
“I didn’t hear anything,” Sonny said. “Did I miss something?”
I grabbed the cage and took it to my bedroom, checked under the bed to make sure my cat wasn’t in the room, and then closed the door behind me. Chauncey grabbed his chance to escape, and when I returned to the living room, he was doing his best to clean up the leftovers from abandoned plates. I shooed him away and threw away the ones he’d managed to lick.
The interruption ruined Auntie’s great moment. The guests wandered from the circle to refresh their drinks and used the washroom. My aunt wasn’t pleased with my interruption. I could tell by the gigantic frown on her lips and how she turned her back on me.
Assuming that Auntie wasn’t the only one rattled by the interruption, I thought this might be a good time to check the pulse of the suspects. In the corner by the sliding doors that led outside, Heather poked away at the buttons on her cell phone, so I sidled up and waited until she hit send.
“I have a feeling that Elvira’s not going to show up tonight.”
She slipped the phone in her purse. “Did you really believe she would?”
“If anybody’s spirit would have something to say, Elvira’s would. Terrible how prone she was to make a fuss about things.”
“What things?”
“I saw how Elvira acted at the taping of your show. Not using the sponsor’s products.” I shook my head. “Terrible. And all because Blue-Ribbon Babes couldn’t honor the prize check.”
Heather clenched her fists, gritted her perfect teeth, and growled out an argh noise. “One mistake and I’ll never live it down! I told that old lady—I told all the contestants—that I’d forgotten to make the deposit. I had it in my safe, the money was all there, it just slipped my mind in the bustle of preparing for our show.”
She held out her hand to show me a perfect manicure. “You think I do this myself? My appointment lasted an hour and a half. And I had a final fitting for my outfit—they practically sewed me into that dress—and then hair and makeup, last-minute changes.” She curled her fingers into a fist. “One day. That’s all they would have to wait for the check. One day! I could have given them the real check and then hoped I would beat them to the bank in the morning, but I’m not in the habit of kiting checks.”
That seemed like a big price to pay for such a small mistake, if Heather was telling the truth.
“We happened to run into Jeremy. Such a shame he had to leave you over a little misunderstanding.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t believe everything you hear. Jeremy’s a big boy. He can make his own decisions, but he does have to pay the consequences.”
“No offense, but he didn’t seem that strong-willed when he was around you. He, um, fawned a lot.”
That brought a smile. “People will do that if they think they can get something from you, but it’s a waste of time with me. It takes more than being a kiss-butt to get into my good graces.”
Did that mean Jeremy was lying when he said he wasn’t really interested in show business? Did he hope his connection with Heather would lead to bigger jobs? Or was he after something else?
Sonny strolled over and patted my shoulder. “Was that part of the show? You should consider stunts, though I didn’t get the point of it. You actually broke things up. Too bad. This is my first séance.” He looked over at the abandoned circle of chairs and noted, “In movies, they always sit around a table.”
“I’ll remember that next time.”
“And your aunt should have on one of those turbans. And really, no offense, but the medium should be someone sexy, like Heather. What about it, Heather? Are you up for a new career?”
I left the two of them mocking my aunt’s production values and moved into the kitchen. Auntie was in conference with Bowers and Penny. She turned on me the minute I entered the room.
“I’ll never be able to recreate the mood now.”
“You were really doing well,” Penny gushed.
“No more. I’m calling it,” Bowers said. Little beads of sweat gathered on his forehead and upper lip. Funny, but I didn’t think the house was that warm.
Auntie launched a protest. “I hardly got started. And maybe Sissy’s accident will put the killer on edge. We might learn something. I have one or two things up my sleeve that will—”
Bowers held up a hand to stop the flow of words. “One attempt is good enough. And you’re right. You’ll never be able to achieve the effect you were going for, so that’s that.”
“You don’t have to stay,” she persisted. “I’m sure you’ve got important things to do. Why don’t you go do them? I promise to take notes.”
“My investigation. My suspects. My call. It’s over.” He stepped into the living room and waved a hand to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s been fun, but we’re calling it a night.”
The response was mixed. Most people headed for the door, some disappointed, some fleeing with relief. Bull wanted a word with Auntie, and she suggested they step out into my backyard.
“Behave yourselves,” I hissed into Auntie’s ear.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped, following after him.
What was I talking about? Did I really think Auntie was tactless enough to play kissy with a widower before his spouse was even in the ground? With his son and daughter-in-law just yards away? She definitely liked him. I remembered her flushed face when she met him at the Baking Channel reception. And it seemed to me that she had been competing for Bull’s attention when Sharlene dropped by the other day. Then again, Auntie was glad I invited Sharlene. Of course, she hadn’t issued an invitation to my neighbor personally. Maybe I was giving it way too much thought.
“Thank you so much for including me,” Sharlene said. She held up Mimi. “We really enjoyed ourselves. Your aunt is so impressive.” She waved Mimi’s paw at me before heading home.
Penny and the trio of ladies said they would stick around and help clean up. I accepted.
“You’re going to stay with her for a while?” Bowers asked Penny.
“I told Kemper I’d call him around ten, so I have to leave at nine-thirty. Why?”
He put his hands in his pants pockets and scuffed the toe of his shoe against the floor—a stalling tactic if ever I’ve seen one. “Frankie might have hit her head. I want someone to watch—to look out for her.”
“I’m fine.” I gathered a few paper plates and tossed them in the garbage. “See? Eye-hand coordination working. No worries.”
He seemed reluctant to leave, but when Bull came back in, Bowers left with the Jenkins’s family. Auntie took her new friends into the living room for a chat, and she quieted their protests by insisting that Penny and I should have alone time now that she was engaged. The dirty look she shot me as she walked out of the kitchen told me Auntie’s removal of our voluntary cleaning crew was in revenge for her ruined performance.
“That went well,” I said, transferring the leftovers to containers. “Not.”
“You couldn’t help it,” Penny said. “You lost your balance.” She looked up through her bangs. “That’s all it was, right?”
“Right,” I sighed. “I’m a klutz.”
“Your aunt’s friends are nice.”
“Makes you wonder what they see in Auntie.”
Penny giggled and tossed the dishrag at me, and the kitchen somehow got cleaned in-between our goofing off. Penny left in plenty of time to make it home for her phone call with Kemper. The trio left the same time she did, thanking us for a fun evening.
My pajamas were in my bedroom. When I turned on the light, the first thing I saw was the covered birdcage, resting on top of my armoire. As I opened a drawer, I noticed a white feather on the floor. And another. I picked up five in all. Did cockatoos molt?
My muscles tensed, but I ignored the warning and slipped the cover up for a peek. A muffled cry escaped before I clamped my hand over my mouth, and I walked out of the room in a daze and picked up the phone. I dialed the number to Bower’s cell phone. When he answered, I drew in a deep breath.
“I’d like to report a murder.”