“It sure looks haunted,” Edna murmured to no one in particular, to the cast of Dracula in general. They were grouped around her on the sidewalk that ran past the old Hanratty place that Carlos and Bella had rented. I’d never been inside, though I’d driven by it once when I first moved to Etonville on my way out of town. The house stood on half an acre of scruffy lawn with patches of dried dirt, surrounded by a few straggly trees—minus leaves at this time of the year—and no neighbors. The nearest houses were on a side street some distance away. The three-story building looked as if it might collapse at any moment, its outer walls covered with weathered, gray shakes, the steps to the front door supported by concrete building blocks. There was no handrail. Light leaked out of windows on the first floor. Curtains covering small, circular panes on the third story—an attic room?—quivered. Was someone up there watching us? I shivered. A turret rose upward from the right side of the structure, giving the house a smidge of outdated dignity. A drainpipe dangled loosely from the gutter.
“Let’s go.” Penny corralled actors and nudged everyone forward to the front door. There were six cast members, Renfield saying he’d be along later, plus Penny, Lola, Pauli, and me. Strength in numbers.
We crept across the porch cautiously, aware of the creaking beneath us as the flooring shifted with each individual’s footsteps. Penny put out a hand to knock on the door. Before she could hit her knuckles to the wood, it flew open. “Welcome, everyone!” Bella stood in the doorway, a silhouette backlit by muted foyer lighting.
Behind her, Carlos stood silently, observing the group huddled in his entryway, like deer caught in headlights.
Lola took the lead, moving graciously into the house. “Thank you. So nice of you to invite us to your home.”
I’m not sure what the members of the Etonville Little Theatre were expecting. Given the exterior and location of the Hanratty homestead, I anticipated something out of a late-night, classic horror film. Amityville? Instead, the interior was warm and inviting. Literally. Off the foyer, which boasted worn wood floors, lightly faded Oriental rugs, and a small antique table and chairs, was a roaring fire in a parlor. Carlos escorted his guests into the room, suggested they get warm or help themselves to food and drink across the hall in the dining room, where a large mahogany table was covered with platters of refreshments.
The cast, relieved to find themselves in a relatively normal social setting, babbled all at once. Pauli helped Janice with her sweater, Lola and Walter spoke with Bella, Vernon, and Abby; Penny made a beeline for the eats; and Edna turned to me. “Kind of a shock.” She studied the room. “I pictured something out of…”
“The Shining?”
“Copy that.” Edna grinned, adjusted her bun, and followed the others to the dining room.
“I’m glad to see you joined us for this little outing.” Carlos looked down at me from his six-foot-plus height. I hadn’t registered exactly how tall he was before.
“I’m more or less an honorary member of the ELT. I tend to tag along to parties.”
“Hmm.”
Across the hallway, behind Carlos, I could see Walter and Vernon competing for Lola’s attention, one on her right, the other on her left. Trapped between them, she had no choice but to gaze beyond them in my direction. Noticing that I was left in the parlor alone with Carlos, her eyes widened, giving the impression she was crying, go for it! No time like the present to plunge in. “Too bad you missed the awards presentation last night. I guess you heard you won the grand prize.”
He laughed haughtily. “I did hear that.”
“And your costume? Fantastic. Did you ever play the Phantom? You must have a theater background.”
“No, I never appeared in Phantom of the Opera. I do gravitate toward black capes, though.”
Oh? “Speaking of black capes, I saw someone in a Grim Reaper outfit at the party. Did you see him?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Was he lying? “And then the same costume was on the murder victim. Guess you heard all about that.”
“Very unfortunate. Etonville seems like such a safe little town.”
If he only knew… “I can understand leaving early. It must have been exhausting. Working all day, dress rehearsal, getting into another costume, talking to strangers from Etonville.” I’d left the door open for Carlos to respond to several gambits: his job, exiting the celebration before it ended, meeting someone in the parking lot—
“I don’t tire easily. I’m more energized at night.”
Did he realize what he was saying?
“I barely sleep. Only a few hours at a time.”
Uh-oh…if the ELT overheard this, serious doo-doo would be hitting the fan.
Change direction. “That’s such an interesting accent you have. Not at all Jersey.” I chuckled.
He studied me. “No, not at all Jersey.”
“Because a New Jersey accent is pretty hard to shake. I’ve tried to a few times.”
“Oh? Why?” His gaze narrowed, sucking the energy out of my “memorable persona.”
Whoa. I was in trouble now. “Well…let’s see…one time…”
“Carlos?”
Saved by the Bella.
“You’re monopolizing Dodie.” She frowned slightly.
He bowed. “Excuse me.” And walked to another part of the house.
I watched him leave. “Your husband is such a gentleman. I’m sure you must hear that a lot.”
Bella accepted my assessment quietly. “We’re on our best behavior in front of guests.”
“Your home is so warm and comfy. The furniture…vintage.”
“You mean old.” Her gray eyes twinkled. “The house was furnished when we rented it. I think the real estate agent took care of that. Certainly not the owner.”
“Right.”
“Can I get you a plate of food?” she asked.
“I’ll head over. I want to thank you again for reading palms. Have you been doing it for a long time? It takes such skill.” Maybe Bella would divulge some personal information if her husband wouldn’t.
Bella’s laugh was wispy. Ethereal, almost otherworldly. “Not as much as you would think. Certainly not as much skill as tarot.”
Aha! “You read tarot cards too?”
“Sometimes.” She considered me. “If you’d like to have a reading…” She let the invitation dangle.
Not on your life. “Sure. Sometime. Sounds like fun.”
“It can be fun. Also surprising.”
Now what did that mean? “Guess I’ll pay a visit to your delicious buffet.”
* * * *
I scrolled through my texts for the tenth time that evening. No word from Bill. How was his investigation going? He would be exhausted when he finally surrendered for the night. I poured myself another ginger ale from a bottle on a sideboard where the Villariases had set up a minibar. Soda, wine, whiskey, an ice bucket. I was getting antsy and frustrated. I had no more information about the backstories of this couple than I had when I entered the Hanratty place.
“Hey, O’Dell.”
“Hi, Penny. Nice spread.” I scanned the dining room table with the remains of platters of sandwiches and crudités, bowls of fruit and salad, and a double chocolate layer cake.
“Yep. ’Course, I can only eat certain things.”
“The Mediterranean diet. Right. How’s that going?”
Penny snatched a chunk of cake. “Chocolate’s good for you.”
“So the opening went well. Only a few minor glitches, according to Lola.” I dipped a piece of celery in ranch dressing. “I guess you had to find another stake to substitute.”
“Nope.” Penny removed carrots and cucumbers from the veggie tray and stacked them on her plate, pouring the remainder of the dip over them.
I stopped chewing. “Why not?”
“Gabriel found the original one backstage. Stuck under cables and instruments.”
Renfield? My pulse picked up. The murder weapon wasn’t the stake used in Dracula?
“Nope. Not the one used in Dracula.”
Penny was in my head again.
“Isn’t that odd? How would the stake get stuck under equipment?” Wouldn’t somebody have to put it there? Had Bill heard this yet? I should text him. I hurried to the foyer and dug my cell out of my bag, which was sitting on a chair. “Was Gabriel searching for the stake? When did he find it?”
Penny pursued me. “O’Dell, you thinking of playing detective again?”
“Who me? No!” How many times would I have to say this?
“’Cause I think there’s some sabotage going on.” Penny pushed her glasses up her nose.
That again.
I texted Bill: have information on the stake from Dracula…home soon? I wasn’t certain about his schedule, but I intended to exit the Villariases’ as soon as I found the ladies’ room.
Penny pointed upward. “Top of the stairs.”
Geez. “You’re getting better at reading my mind,” I said patiently.
“Easy came, easy went. Practice makes perfect,” she said seriously.
“Here’s a suggestion. Why don’t you let Bella teach you how to read palms? Put those skills to better use than mucking around in my brain.” I tramped up the staircase.
Penny chuckled. “Nah. Too much fun keeping you on your toes, O’Dell. Anyway, I’m already pretty psycho.”
I blinked and turned back. “You mean psychic?”
“Whatever.” She stuffed a piece of cake into her mouth. Definitely not on her diet.
Penny was correct. At the top of the stairs was a dimly lit hallway, the wallpaper a patterned leafy green, glass sconces sparkling. The first door on my left was the bathroom. I entered, used the facilities, and washed my hands, my mind running off in different directions: the murder weapon, the investigation, Bill…I stared at my likeness in the mirror. My face, flushed from the fireplace heat, contrasted nicely with my green eyes. Another gift from my Irish ancestors.
I smoothed my beige sweater, dabbed at my lipstick. My eyes fell on the medicine cabinet. Habit stopped me in my tracks. Ever since I’d begun my investigative journey, I’d paid special attention to personal choices. Bathrooms were a prime information-gathering location. For example, what kinds of prescriptions did they have, what toiletries did they use, what did they stash away behind the bottles and jars? This was a guest bathroom, I presumed, so its contents might be less enlightening. I flipped open the mirror and examined the shelves. Sure enough, very little of interest. A tube of toothpaste, minty, with whitening added. A bottle of generic aspirin. A package of throat lozenges. I shut the cabinet and went into the hall. To my right was the staircase leading to the foyer. To my left, the hallway extended for a bit. One door on this side, two doors on the opposite one. One of them was ajar.
I hesitated. I’d offered to speak with Carlos to find out what I could about his background. Something that would explain his behavior Halloween night, his exchange with the Grim Reaper. So far, I was batting zero. I glanced up and down the hallway. Laughter and yakking from below drifted up the stairs.
Three doors. I was tempted to stick my head in each room, determine which one belonged to Carlos, do a quick inspection, and beat it back down to the party. As Pauli would say, piece of cake, though that felt like trespassing. However, if a door was already open…
I tiptoed across the hall. Penny had said the bathroom was at the top of the stairs. She’d neglected to mention which side of the hall. I could just as easily have thought this room was the loo and walked in. Besides, the door was partially open.
Satisfied with my rationale, I peeked into the room. Ambient light from the hall sconces threw a shaft of illumination onto a dark carpet. From what I could see without switching on a light—no way was I going to warn anyone outside the house that I was roaming around—the room was simply furnished. A four-poster bed, nightstands, a bureau with a mirror and antique washbasin, an easy chair by a floor lamp next to the window. Nothing in the bedroom that indicated it was occupied by a member of the household. It had to be a guest room.
I eased back into the hallway, leaving the door ajar again. I wavered. Should I check the other rooms? Was I pushing my luck? I tiptoed to the door on my right. It was locked. Lots of reasons hosts would lock doors when a group of almost-strangers traipsed through their home. Two doors done, one to go. I padded quickly across the hallway to the third room. It was unlocked, the door shut. Might as well complete the job. After another glance down the hallway I twisted the handle, nudged it open, and stepped in. A glow of rosy light from a table lamp was warm and welcoming. Larger than the guest room, it held a king-size bed, a clothes closet in addition to a large chest of drawers, a desk and chair in one corner, and a chaise longue in another. A plaid quilt in earth tones with brown throw pillows on the bed, a hairbrush and pins on the bureau, a shawl laying casually on the chaise next to an open book, and a desk with a few papers on it. Though the guest bedroom felt somewhat sterile, this bedroom suggested personality, a human touch. People actually slept here.
Everything was normal, not paranormal. I quickly examined the desktop—issues of the Etonville Standard, a Dracula rehearsal schedule, and a Chinese takeout menu from Bernridge. Quite a distance for delivery… That was it. Curiously, there was no mail, nothing with the Villariases’ address on it. Still, I had a squirrelly feeling. There must be something in this room that provided a clue to their lives. I noticed a wastebasket half hidden by the desk. It held a circular advertising appliances from a Creston department store and a flyer publicizing Etonville’s Halloween party. On the carpet next to it was a crumpled piece of paper. Someone had missed the wastebasket. I picked it up.
Footsteps moved down the hallway. I panicked. There was nowhere to hide. I jammed the paper into my bag and sprinted across the room to a spot behind the door. Maybe the person was looking for the bathroom? What if it was Carlos or Bella? My mind went on overdrive, rummaging around for an explanation for my presence here. Somebody paused outside the bedroom, I closed my eyes, as if that would prevent whoever from seeing me. The door slowly opened, light from the hallway leaking in.
“Dodie?”
I recoiled. “Arrgh!”
“Ssh!” Lola hissed.
“Ssh!” I hissed back, and pulled her into the room, shutting the door.
“What are you doing in here?”
“Looking for something about Carlos. What are you doing here?”
“I was walking up the stairs to the ladies’ room when I saw you come in here. Did you find anything?” she asked, breathless.
“Only a piece of paper on the floor. Let’s go.” We stepped to the door, listening, then opening it carefully and checking the hallway. We hurried down the stairs. I tried to look composed.
“There you are,” said Carlos as he spied us descending the staircase. He regarded us quizzically. “I thought maybe you’d left.” He addressed both of us, but his eyes were fixed on me.
“In the bathroom. Then Lola came up and we got to gabbing.” I smiled at Lola, silently requesting confirmation.
“That’s us. Gabbing, gabbing.” She laughed and glanced behind her. “The fun has moved into the dining room.”
Carlos followed her gaze. “Bella is doing tarot. I think you’d like to have a go at it,” he said to me.
I would? “I’ve got to get home.”
He persuasively wound an arm around my shoulders. “A quick look. Come.”
He was smooth as a baby’s bottom, my great-aunt Maureen might have said.
“Okay,” I said weakly, sliding my eyes in Lola’s direction. She shrugged helplessly.
I joined the group gathered around the table where Bella and Walter were seated, food having been transferred to the sideboard, squeezing in next to Pauli and Janice.
“Hi, Dodie,” said Janice, her eyes wide. “Walter is having his fortune told.”
Pauli snorted lightly. “Like yeah.”
Bella shuffled a deck of cards, explaining that there were four suits, much like playing cards: wands, swords, cups, and pentacles. She added in a little history, how the tarot originated as a gaming deck and only later came to be used for divination. She asked Walter to shuffle the cards, think about a subject or issue, and divide the cards into three piles. Which she designated as past, present, and future.
Abby looked skeptical, Romeo smirked, and Edna eyed the proceedings eagerly. Vernon fingered his hearing aids. As Bella turned cards over and remarked on his love life, noting relationship problems in the past, movement toward new romantic endeavors in the present—possibly Jocelyn?—she warned him about a future card that hinted at a less-than-sincere interest in a new partner. Meaning he was out to take advantage of someone, Bella added. Walter appeared dismayed, the rest of the cast snickering.
I’d had enough of the Hanratty house and the Villariases’ gathering. I said a quick goodbye to Carlos, who stood off to the side, taking in both Bella’s reading and the reactions of the ELT members. Then stole to the front door. As I pulled it open from the inside, someone pushed it from the outside.
It was Gabriel. “Sorry! You okay?”
“No problem. You’re in time for the tarot reading.”
“Not what I need. Someone telling me about my future.” He laughed good-naturedly. “I’ve got enough trouble with my present.”
I zeroed in on his argument with Carlos the night of the dress rehearsal. What was the nature of their relationship now? “I know what you mean.”
“I hope there’s some food left,” he said.
“A bit.”
“Have a good night.”
“You too. By the way, Penny told me you found the missing stake.”
“Good thing. It would have been a pain to replace it this late.” Gabriel took off his jacket.
“How did it get stuck under those cables?” I asked.
Gabriel shrugged. “Not a clue. I had to poke around and dig it out.”
“Like it got shoved in there?”
“I guess.”
“You must be a little psychic. Knowing where to search,” I said lightly.
He studied me coolly. “Not really. I scoured the entire backstage area. Along with everyone else.”
Penny hadn’t mentioned that. “You’re doing a nice job with the role.”
He brightened. “Thanks. Renfield’s a challenge.”
“The ELT’s lucky to have you in the show. Congratulations on the opening.”
He walked to the dining room, where Walter poured himself a glass of whiskey, a consolation prize, while the skeptical Abby sat down to the hoots and hollers of the cast.
I stood on the front porch. The night air was bracing, clearing my head, filling my lungs. Without streetlights on this patch of road, the slice of moon provided the only illumination. The branches of the trees scattered throughout the yard pointed every which way like bony fingers, reaching out. A breeze whipped up a pile of dead leaves sending them spiraling into the air. November had arrived.
I hurried to my car, slightly creeped out by the shadows and silence. My cell pinged. I jumped into my MC, slapped the door locks, and read Bill’s text: where are you? coming home?
You bet.