I kept my promise to Mom and escorted Aunt Pearl back to the Inn before heading home. I had no way of ensuring that Aunt Pearl remained at the Inn, but it was the best I could do. After everything she had told me, I expected more trouble, especially with Aunt Pearl and Tonya under the same roof. Something terrible was bound to happen.
I trudged through the garden towards home. I had always loved the seclusion of my tree house at the rear of the property, but tonight the isolation made me uneasy. After all, a murderer was on the loose.
I was glad that Hazel and Pearl had patched things up, but also feared that the two of them might have unleashed something that couldn't be undone. I planned to call Hazel first thing in the morning and get an account of her visit and the strange man at the gazebo. She would either corroborate Aunt Pearl's version, or I would catch both of them in a lie. The attacker in the black hoodie running across the lawn could be just a fabrication, but I had nothing else to go on.
By the time I reached my place I was half asleep on my feet. It had been a long day. I trudged up the wooden spiral staircase that led home. My tree house nestled in a massive oak tree. Over the years the original structure had been modified and added to as the branches it nestled within allowed. The tree had grown too; one of the branches actually grew into the living room.
I considered Aunt Pearl's comments about Sebastien Plant wanting a divorce. That gave Tonya a pretty solid motive for murder. But if she had committed the crime, she certainly couldn't have done it alone. Sebastien was twice her size, for one thing.
I flashed back to the note left at the crime scene. I could see the block printing as clearly in my mind as if the note was right in front of me. I mouthed the first few lines as I reached the top of the staircase:
Though you travel far and wide,
You'd be best to run and hide,
Your business was built on travel,
But it is here that you become unravelled
I froze on the porch landing as I pondered the British spelling.
Hazel was British.
Aunt Pearl was not.
Hazel's visit coincided with the murder. While she seemed incapable of murder, I didn't really know her that well. Maybe she had done it after all.
I shivered and pushed open the heavy wooden door. As I stepped across the threshold, I decided to forget about everything and call it a night. I was dead on my feet and it was already late. For the next few hours at least, I could escape into my rustic fairy tale castle and forget about the world. All I wanted was my cozy bed and some shut-eye. All my problems would still be waiting for me tomorrow.
I saw a flash of black and white as Alan ran to the door, wagging his little Border collie tail. At least someone was happy to see me. I felt a pang of guilt as he herded me into the kitchen and tapped his dish with his paw.
I had left extra food for him when I left early this morning, but I had never expected to be gone this long. Poor Alan. I refilled his dish and water bowl and watched him wolf down his dinner as I thought about Hazel. I had last seen her a month ago, when she and Pearl had their disagreement.
Alan gave me the perfect excuse to contact Hazel. I could plead to have Alan changed back into his human form, and along the way, find out more about her whereabouts at the time of the murder.
"Thank goodness you're finally home!" A ghostly apparition floated in the kitchen doorway.
My heart stopped cold until I remembered that Grandma Vi, a.k.a. Violet West, had moved in with me yesterday afternoon under heavy protest. Her former suite at the Inn was now a guest room. We were temporary roommates until I moved out of the tree house and in with Brayden in a few weeks’ time. Neither of us liked the arrangement, but there were simply no other options.
"You waited up for me?" I felt a tug of tenderness at the thought.
"Don't be silly, Cen. Ghosts don't sleep." Grandma Vi sniffed. "Where are your towels? I can't find a damn thing in this mess. You're so unorganized."
"You're a ghost. Why do you need a towel?" Grandma Vi had passed two years ago and promptly returned to haunt us. In all that time she had never asked for a towel. I suspected she just wanted an excuse to snoop through my things without being obvious. Not that ghosts were the least bit obvious, of course.
Grandma Vi sighed and shook her head. "You wouldn't understand. Your cluttered mind is just like this cluttered house. Nothing is where it belongs."
"Towels are in the linen closet."
"I am not going in there." Grandma Vi hovered in front of me and blocked my path.
Why a ghost who traveled through walls was afraid of a closet was beyond me. "Suit yourself. Anything else?" All I wanted was a few minutes of peace and quiet to unwind before bed.
Grandma Vi threw her ghostly arms in the air. "That closet's a mess. Maybe you did pick the right profession after all."
"What's that supposed to mean?" After a frustrating day with the wedding rehearsal, Pearl's antics at the Inn's grand opening, and of course, Plant's murder, I just wanted to fall into bed and go to sleep. I turned sideways to slip past Grandma Vi.
Grandma Vi refused to let me by, though technically I could walk right through her transparent form. But I respected my elders, even if they didn't respect me.
"You have so many questions but never any answers. Aren't journalists supposed to have both?" She lowered her hands and stepped aside to let me pass. "Ooh...you're thinking about a man, and it's not Brayden."
Grandma Vi is—or at least was—a witch like the rest of us, but since becoming a ghost she could also read minds. In my tired state I had let down my guard and forgotten to block my thoughts. I hadn't even realized I was thinking about him.
It was hard not to imagine Tyler Gates' tightly muscled body underneath his sheriff's uniform. "Just the new sheriff. He started today," I said in my most innocent-sounding voice. I wasn't sure if Grandma Vi saw the images in my head or just the words, but it was creepy knowing she could read my innermost thoughts.
"We have a murder on our hands." I recounted the gazebo encounter, including Pearl's magic wand. I omitted Aunt Pearl's comments on Tonya and the resort plans because I didn’t want to upset her.
Grandma Vi hovered behind me as I removed my shoes and headed down the hall to the living room. "I'd better go do some reconnaissance." She sounded eager for something to do.
"No, Grandma. Leave it to the police." I switched topics. "Mom's worried about the impact on our hotel business."
Grandma Vi smiled. "Maybe I'll get my old room back after all."
"I doubt it." The murder would kill our business before it even started. Now we'd never recoup the renovation expenses. The only way Grandma Vi could have remained at the Inn was to room with Aunt Pearl. Their bickering would only invite unwanted attention and Grandma Vi was bound to wander around and scare the guests.
I changed the subject. "The Inn looks absolutely gorgeous." We had taken pains to make the restoration as authentic as possible, right down to the stained-glass windows and restored fir floors. "It looks just like new."
"I wouldn't know." She sniffed. "I'm banished, help captive in this stupid tree. It's persecution if you ask me."
"It's all for the best, Grandma. We need to somehow earn a living, and this is all we’ve got. You're free to visit anytime once the guests leave. It looks just like the old days when you lived there."
"Exactly how old you think I am? The place was old when I lived there too." Even in death, Grandma Vi was sensitive about her age.
"You're not old at all. Just older than me." I headed into the living room to the sofa.
"Enough age-bashing. Let's get back to the murder. It's too dangerous to hold your wedding here, Cen. You should cancel it." Grandma and Brayden didn't get along. But Grandma Vi was dead to Brayden since he couldn't see ghosts. So in fact it was only Grandma Vi that didn't get along.
"I am not canceling my wedding. Why would I do that?" At least Grandma hadn't read my mind about that yet. I flopped down on the sofa, exhausted.
She shrugged. “One can hope." Her form gradually solidified as she floated across the room and hovered over me.
I recounted the rest of today's events, including Pearl's highway pyrotechnic demonstration and her Carolyn Conroe antics. "She needs to tone things down before she drives away another sheriff. We can't have a lawless town. Can you talk to her?"
"I'll see what I can do. Now tell me about this new sheriff."
I described the showdown in my office and Aunt Pearl's grudging acceptance of her fine. "He seemed to hold his own against Pearl, though. She can't just light things on fire whenever things don't go her way." Tyler Gates was the first sheriff that had really stood up to Aunt Pearl. Maybe he would last after all.
Grandma Vi sighed. "Tell her to come see me."