Fun Ivy

A JESS AND LIBBY PARANORMAL COZY MYSTERY

AFTERLIFE ISSUES

BOOK FIVE

A.W. HARTOIN

Fun Ivy

Afterlife Issues Book Five

Copyright © A.W. Hartoin, 2024

Cover designed by MiblArt

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Also by A.W. Hartoin

Jess and Libby Paranormal Cozy Mysteries

Dead Companions (Afterlife Issues Book One)

A Trunk, a Canoe, and all the Barbecue (Afterlife Issues Book Two)

Old Friends and Fedoras (Afterlife Issues Book Three)

The Trouble with Tinsel (Afterlife Issues Book Four)

Fun Ivy (Afterlife Issues Book Five)

Mercy Watts Mysteries

A Good Man Gone (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book One)

Diver Down (A Mercy Watts Mystery Book Two)

Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries BookThree)

Drop Dead Red (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Four)

In the Worst Way (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Five)

The Wife of Riley (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Six)

My Bad Grandad (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Seven)

Brain Trust (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Eight)

Down and Dirty (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Nine)

Small Time Crime (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Ten)

Bottle Blonde (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Eleven)

Mean Evergreen (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Twelve)

Silver Bells at Hotel Hell (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Thirteen)

So Long Gone (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Fourteen)

Black Bandana (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Fifteen) Coming soon

Mercy Watts Short Mysteries

Coke with a Twist (Mercy Watts Short Mysteries Book One)

Touch and Go My Book (Mercy Watts Short Mysteries Book Two)

Nowhere Fast (Mercy Watts Short Mysteries Book Three)

Dry Spell (Mercy Watts Short Mysteries Book Four)

A Sin and a Shame (Mercy Watts Short Mysteries Book Five)

Stella Bled WWII Historical Thrillers

The Paris Package (Stella Bled Book One)

Strangers in Venice (Stella Bled Book Two)

One Child in Berlin (Stella Bled Book Three)

Dark Victory (Stella Bled Book Four)

A Quiet Little Place on Rue de Lille (Stella Bled Book Five)

Her London Season (Stella Bled Book Six)

YA Paranormal

It Started with a Whisper (Son of a Witch Book One)

Angels and Insects (Son of a Witch Book Two)

Young Adult fantasy

Flare-up (Away From Whipplethorn Short)

A Fairy's Guide To Disaster (Away From Whipplethorn Book One)

Fierce Creatures (Away From Whipplethorn Book Two)

A Monster’s Paradise (Away From Whipplethorn Book Three)

A Wicked Chill (Away From Whipplethorn Book Four)

To the Eternal (Away From Whipplethorn Book Five)

Chapter One

People have always told me you should find what you love and figure out a way to make a living from it. That’s sound advice—and I followed it—but no matter how much you like your job, no matter how good you are at it, you are going to have bad days. My best friend Jess and I were having a bad day.

To start with, we had wicked head colds that the kids had brought home from school. It was such a nasty virus that my sons, Max and Henri, were not their usual sunny-side-up selves and their misery made everyone feel as awful as they did, not that we needed any help with that. Jess, her daughter Mariah, and I were plenty miserable. We’d planned on spending that Saturday wrapped up in afghans and watching 1970s TV shows with our less-than-alive neighbors, Peg and Vern, who were dedicated to taking care of us in our hour of need. They believed that every illness could be cured with two things, lime Jello and soup made from chicken bouillon cubes. Since they didn’t know they were dead, we had to make that stuff ourselves so we could eat it and make them happy.

It was worth it. They loved us and I couldn’t taste much anyway. Vern’s TV pick, Kojak, wasn’t bad, but switching to Peg’s, Scooby-Doo, made everything better. We had a blazing fire in the hearth, Mariah’s killer headache had lessened so she was asleep, and the boys were playing video games when my phone rang. I ignored it. Jess’ phone rang and she pulled an afghan over her head. Our phones kept on ringing and we kept on ignoring until Max stomped in and yelled, “Answer the phone, Mom! It’s Darren!”

I answered and our miserable Saturday got a whole lot worse. Darren was our resident ghost’s stepson and he was a mortician just like Leo. Once the Otto family’s funeral home went under after Leo died, Darren went to work for another company and since it was Saturday, he was working. Things had gone awry during Eugene Stickle’s wake and he needed us pronto.

We considered Darren family and you can’t say no to family no matter how congested you are, so we dragged ourselves out to a swanky suburb of St. Sebastian to deal with a family in grief and considerable confusion.

An hour later, I pulled back a silk curtain and peered out the window at the Stickle family. They were standing on the wide lawn, getting buffeted by chilly February winds. Most of the mourners had left, but some neighbors had gathered across the street to see the action. Some were in for the long haul, having brought camping chairs and blankets. I couldn’t blame them. Whoever was haunting the Stickle house was putting on quite a show. They rattled the windows so hard they’d cracked and the dining room chandelier behind me was ramming back and forth into the ceiling. The Stickles had Dutzow Barbecue cater the wake and the walls were now decorated with meat, sauce, slaw, and every fixin’ you could think of. So were Jess and I. Avoid getting barbecue sauce in your eyes. It stings. A lot. The Stickle family had been sauced too, but they got out of the house quick. It was our job to stay in and figure out what in the heck was going on.

“We have got to wrap this up,” I said.

“I’m open to suggestions.” Jess yelped and I turned around to see a biscuit fly across the room and biff her in the head.

“That is enough!” I yelled. “Stop it!”

Instead of stopping, the chandelier shattered against the ceiling and we got sprayed with crystals. Family photos fell to the floor and we watched as the glass spiderwebbed under an invisible heel. I had no idea who it was or what brought on the tantrum to end all tantrums and neither did the Stickles or so they claimed. I had no reason to distrust the family, but we didn’t really know them, although both our cats, Poptart and Pesto, went to the Stickle Veterinary Clinic.

The Stickles were unique in the town of St. Sebastian. They didn’t see or believe in ghosts. I know that might sound a little weird, but people in St. Seb didn’t necessarily believe in ghosts, even if they did see them. Practically everyone had seen Sgt. Thompson, who directed traffic on Fifth Street. I had people admit to seeing him and then call it a trick of the light because a cop in a 1930s uniform could be a trick of the light, like Confederate soldiers in the hospital or a recently dead man running around town in a lobster costume. It made them feel better so I wasn’t going to argue. But the Stickles didn’t see anything unusual in St. Seb and never had. Darren had to talk them into calling us before he went back to work at his next viewing. They kept telling us it was an earthquake or perhaps there was some kind of gas leak causing mini explosions. The cops and firefighters assured them, after getting sauced, that there was no evidence of gas and certainly no earthquakes. Chief Candace Stratton told them straight up that they had a ghost problem while picking cornbread out of her hair. They said it wasn’t possible. There was no such thing as ghosts. The chief shrugged and wished us luck.

“It has to be Eugene,” said Jess, ducking as another biscuit came her way.

“They say he would never do anything like this in life.” I jumped to the side and a serving spoon shattered the window. “He was nice. Darren, the chief, everybody loved him.”

“I’m not loving him.”

“It might not be him.”

“Well, it’s a man,” said Jess.

I nodded. “Something happened at the wake. Everything was fine at the funeral home and the interment.”

“Let’s call Leo.”

“I hate to bother him.”

“This is a crisis,” said Jess, “and my headache is banging. I need Tylenol and my neti pot. I can’t get all the baked beans out of my nose.”

“We should try to do it ourselves. Leo’s probably in class.”

“Tax class.”

I wrinkled my nose that was bean-free thankfully. Leo Pereyra was the ultimate family man. Even in death, he was helping his boys and us. Darren and Eric, his stepsons, mentioned in passing how much they paid to have their taxes done. Leo decided he could do the taxes for free and was currently in DC at the IRS, taking a class from an IRS agent whose passion for the tax code didn’t end the moment he dropped dead of an early heart attack at his desk.

“Still,” I said.

“Libby, we can’t stop what’s going on here,” said Jess. “We can’t even see it.”

“Fine.” I looked back out at the family, taking note of who had stayed. Somebody knew something. They had to. “You call Leo. I’m going out to see if anyone’s wavering.”

“Anything to get out of here and back home,” said Jess.

“Something’s going on out there,” I said.

“I hope it’s honesty.”

“I wouldn’t count on it just yet.” I watched the deceased’s brother and his wife having an intense conversation with a family friend looking on nervously. The Stickle kids called her Auntie Sharon, even though they weren’t related. She’d been with them at Eugene’s bedside when he died peacefully at the age of eighty-two. Sharon was their mother’s best friend and had helped Eugene keep it together when Rita died ten years earlier. Sharon was a lovely woman who couldn’t stop wringing her hands and looking around furtively. “Sharon knows something.”

“So does the brother,” said Jess, joining me at the window. “Get it out of them. I need to go home like nobody’s business.”

I sneezed and blew my nose. “Me too.”

“Leo!” Jess called out. “Please come. We need you.”

There was a pop and Leo appeared in an outfit I’d never seen before, a lime green polo with matching golf pants. Somehow, he made it look good with his tall, lean body and dark, wavy hair.

He leaned on a club and said, “It’s about time.”

“You knew?” Jess asked.

Leo grinned at her. “It’s a small town.” A sparerib went through his middle. “What do you expect?”

“I thought you were in DC,” I said.

“Sam needed some tutoring this morning and she told me about this whole thing. Since you didn’t call, I went golfing with all the IRS agents.”

“They golf?”

“Sure,” he said with his charming smile. “No one wants to see them. What else have they got to do?”

“Oh, the poor IRS guys,” said Jess.

Leo nodded. “I’m trying to get them seen, but it’s an uphill battle. They weren’t well liked.”

Jess started coughing and I sneezed before asking, “Can you do something? We feel awful.”

“You both look beautiful.”

We rolled our red eyes at him and he said, “I’ll do what I can.”

“Do you see someone in here?” Jess asked. “Because we don’t.”

He shook his head and popped into his black mortician suit. “I do not, but I have some things I can try.”

“Do you know anything about the Stickles family?” I asked. “Something odd?”

“Not a thing. Excellent vets. Excellent people.”

“Including Eugene?” Jess asked.

“Absolutely. You couldn’t find a kinder man,” said Leo. “Whatever happened must be bad.”

“So you think it’s him?” I asked. “Eugene, I mean.”

“It was his wake. People talk at wakes. Things come out.”

“And he heard,” said Jess before she sneezed.

“That’s my guess,” said Leo. “I saw it happen a few times. Usually, the departed hear good things, but not always.”

“How bad could it be?” An entire lemon meringue pie flew across the room. I jumped, but it nailed me on the knee. “That’s gonna leave a mark.”

Leo looked around, his handsome face growing sad. “Something with the family. Nothing can hurt like family.”

Jess and I took a breath. Leo rarely referred to his own tragedy. He preferred helping others work through theirs.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Go out and let me get to work.”

I left as Jess asked Leo about his plan. A gust of wind hit me when I stepped out onto the wide veranda. The family stepped forward eagerly and I took careful note of just who that included. The kids, Tracy, Barry, and Tom, along with their spouses and kids, who were all similar in looks, uniformly blond and tall, with expressions of guileless anticipation. If any of them knew what was going on, I’d be very surprised.

It was the same with the various cousins and more distant relatives who’d stuck around. Not so with Auntie Sharon, who stood with a couple of cousins. She looked afraid. Eugene’s brother, Irving, crossed his arms and looked at me with a challenge in his blue eyes. His much younger wife, Jill, puckered her lips and pulled up the hood of her Gucci puffer jacket. She could’ve passed for a cast member of The Real Housewives, but she didn’t come off as a drama queen. Jill definitely wasn’t happy with Irving, but she was the only one.

I went down the steps and walked over to Eugene’s kids.

Traci leaned forward. She had a long braid draped over her shoulder and was dressed completely in black, with swollen eyes and a red nose. “Did you figure it out?”

“We might have a clue,” I said.

Her brother, Barry, dressed in a plaid flat cap and a navy wool trench coat said, “It has to be some sort of structural issue.”

His wife looked at him like bugs flew out of his nose. “Yeah, right.”

“Don’t start with me,” said Barry. “You know there’s nothing in there.”

Tiffany looked at me. “Is it Eugene?”

“It’s not Dad,” said Tom, who was much less elegant than his siblings in a thick Carhartt coverall.

“Well, it’s not Mom,” said Traci.

“How do you know?”

“It’s not anybody,” said Barry.

Tiffany rolled her eyes. “You think this is naturally occurring?”

“It could be.”

They all looked at me.

I tightened my barbecue sauce encrusted scarf around my neck. “It depends on what you consider natural.”

The grandchildren started smiling and whispering about how they finally got a ghost, garnering harsh looks from their parents.

“Even if we have a ghost—and I’m not saying we do—it’s not Mom,” said Traci. “Mom wouldn’t haunt us.”

“Well, it’s not Dad,” said Tom. “He’s not going to wreck Mom’s house. Get real.”

Mom’s house.

“Why do you call it your mom’s house?” I asked. “She’s been gone for quite some time.”

Traci smiled and wiped a tear off her cheek. “Because the house is all Mom. She designed it, hired the builders and contractors. Dad had nothing to do with it, not the decoration or anything else.”

“He didn’t really care about houses,” said Tom.

Barry gazed at the house that was rattling and creaking like there was a tornado in close proximity. “She loved that house.”

Destroying what Mom loved. Why? To what end?

“I agree that it’s probably not your mother,” I said.

One of the grandsons spoke up. “Is it a person?”

“What kind of question is that?” asked Barry.

“She’s got ghost turkeys. It could be a pack of hyenas for all we know.”

“There are no ghost turkeys,” said Traci. “That’s just ridiculous.”

She looked at me and I said, “I agree that it is ridiculous.”

“That’s not a denial,” said Barry.

“Correct.”

“Jesus, what is happening to my life?”

Tiffany elbowed him. “Jesus has nothing to do with it. Libby, is it a person?”

I nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

“If it’s a person, it could it be my mother-in-law.”

“Tiff, just cause Mom threw that plate⁠—”

“At me! She threw a plate at me,” said Tiffany.

Barry threw up his hands. “She was stressed out! It was Thanksgiving!”

“Getting a plate winged at your head because you forgot to bring the mini marshmallows is pretty stressful.”

Traci came closer to me and whispered, “It was a one-time thing. She wasn’t like that. She just forgot to take her medication.”

“What kind?” I asked.

“Antidepressants.”

I looked back at the house as a window fell out of the frame with a crash. “She was clinically depressed?”

“Mom wouldn’t talk about it. She just said she had a hard time coping,” said Traci.

“I never understood that,” said Tom. “Everything was fine.”

“Maybe it wasn’t,” said Tiffany.

“Dad adored Mom,” said Barry. “Worshipped the ground she walked on.”

“We all did,” said Traci, getting choked up. “I don’t know why she needed meds.”

“Well, she wasn’t mentally ill, if that’s what you’re thinking,” said Tom.

“I’m not judging your mom or anyone,” I said. “I’m trying to figure this out.”

“So is it a woman?” Tiffany asked.

“It’s not Mom,” said Barry.

They looked at me and I asked, “Did your mom smoke menthol cigarettes and wear Gillette aftershave?”

The Stickle family went quiet, not daring to even look at each other, until Tiffany said, “Jeez, it’s Eugene. What is up with him?”

That set off a firestorm. There’s no such thing as ghosts. Eugene wouldn’t haunt us. Dad was a swell guy. What did we do?

I kept an eye on Auntie Sharon and Eugene’s brother, Irving. They were pale to begin with, but when I said menthol cigarettes, they got a whole lot paler.

There was a pop beside me and Sgt. Thompson appeared in uniform and stiff as a board. “This is intolerable.”

“It’s fine. Jess and I are handling it,” I said.

“I can see how well you are handling it and the chief left. Not a single ticket. Not a single one.”

“Don’t start with that.” I turned to him and got an eyeful of the Stickle family staring at me.

“Who are you talking to?” Traci asked like I might say something like a demon or Hitler.

“Sgt. Thomas B. Thompson. You may have heard of him.”

“This is pure insanity,” said Barry. “You should be committed.”

The ghost walked over to Barry and pulled out his beloved ticket book. “I will write you a ticket for disturbing the peace and having a formal gathering without a permit.”

“No tickets.” I walked around the main family and went to Auntie Sharon. She saw me coming and retreated a few steps. “Oh, hi. Nice to meet you. Lovely weather we’re having.”

The cousins backed away, eyeing her with suspicion.

“Look, Sharon, you’re a nice lady,” I said. “Why don’t you just tell me what you said in the house and we can get this fixed?”

“I didn’t say anything and there’s no such thing as ghosts,” said Sharon, wringing her hands.

“How dare she!” Sgt. Thompson stalked over. “This is St. Sebastian.”

“She knows where she is,” I said. “She can’t see you. That’s all.”

“That’s all? I exist,” he said with considerable umbrage. “I will not have my existence impugned.”

I looked up at the grey skies and took a breath through my mouth. Nose wasn’t possible.

“Hey, look at that!” People across the street started pointing and yelling. I looked back and smoke was billowing out the windows of the Stickle house.

“Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, Mom’s house is on fire,” said Barry.

“It’s not on fire,” I said. “That’s just Leo.”

“The Number Eight mortician you claim exists?” Tom asked.

Sgt. Thompson waved his ticket book in Tom’s face. “Libby Forest does not lie.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’m glad you know that.”

“You’re welcome.”

Sharon pulled out her phone. “I’m calling 911.”

“I already did,” said Traci.

My phone rang and it was Chief Stratton. “Hey, Libby. Is there a fire?”

“Nope,” I said. “Just Leo.”

“Gotcha. I’ll cancel the alarm.”

I hung up and the family stared at me.

“Did you tell the fire department not to save our mom’s house?” Barry asked.

“It’s not on fire.” I pointed at the smoke. “No flames. No fire.”

“I’m calling again,” said Traci.

I sighed. “I don’t recommend wasting their time. They were just here.”

“It wasn’t on fire then.”

“It’s not on fire now,” I said.

“Yes, it—” Traci’s mouth fell open.

I looked back again and the smoke was completely gone, but a tall, blond man burst through the front door and I do mean through. He yelled about his rights and then ran down the veranda to jump back inside through a window.

“Did you see that?” I asked.

“Where’d the smoke go?” Sharon asked.

“I guess not.”

“Bees!” yelled the grandkids.

So many bees and the man I took to be Eugene was out and running again. That time, he ran around the house after flipping us all off.

“How about that?” I asked. “Did anyone see that?”

“I’m allergic to bees,” said Sharon. “I have to go.”

“You don’t have to go.”

“I just told you⁠—”

“They’re not real bees,” I said.

“Says you.”

“Says logic,” I said. “Tell me what happened at the wake.”

The bees vanished, but Sharon trembled as she looked at the house. “Nothing happened.”

“Why is Eugene upset?”

“He’s not.”

“I just saw him run out of the house and flip us off,” I said.

“Oh, you did not,” said Sharon.

I described who I saw and she got paler still.

“I have nothing to say,” she said.

I crossed my arms. “You have plenty to say.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Sharon literally put her hand over her mouth. That was a first. The family just kept staring at the house and I went over to Irving and Jill.

“Jill, I swear if you—” said Irving.

“You’ll what?” Jill asked. “What will you do?”

“Don’t do it. Just don’t.”

“He’s wrecking the house,” said Jill.

“That’s insane. You’re insane. I will have you committed.”

“Good luck with that.”

I smiled and asked, “Don’t do what?”

Irving looked at me and set his jaw. He looked a lot like the ghost that had just leapt back through the front door after what sounded like a million fire alarms went off. I didn’t know how Jess could stay in there, but I hoped she wasn’t deaf.

“Where are you, you harlot!” Eugene yelled and then looked at the family. “Get off my lawn, you mongrels!”

Mom did something.

I looked at the family. Picture perfect. Pictures. Eugene was destroying the family pictures. None of the art was touched. Just family pictures.

“Something happened at the wake and Eugene heard⁠—”

Jill took a breath and said, “I said⁠—”

Irving dragged Jill away from me and I yelled after him, “You’re just wasting your family’s money. The longer this takes the more it costs.”

“You’re fired!” Irving yelled.

“She’s not fired!” yelled Tiffany.

Eugene ran back into the house and a tremendous banging started, followed by smoke and a stench that made the fur trappers smell pleasant came out of the house, making everyone gag.

“This cannot go on,” said Sgt. Thompson.

Before I could respond, the policeman marched over to the house and went through the front door. In a snap, the banging stopped and all the smoke and smell vanished.

“What happened?” Traci asked.

“Sgt. Thompson went in.”

Barry put his face in his hands. “I can’t believe I’m listening to this.”

“You’re the one that said Darren Otto should call her,” said Tom.

“A moment of desperation,” said Barry. “You should’ve stopped me.”

“You’re always saying that you’re the oldest so you’re in charge.”

Traci faced her brothers. “Will you two stop? Something went on in there. Aunt Jill just said so.”

Irving held up his hands. “No, no. Jill was having an attack.”

“Of conscience,” said Jill.

“She has asthma.”

Jill punched his shoulder. “No, I don’t. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing!” Irving yelled.

Tiffany leaned over to Traci. “Something is seriously up with Uncle Irving.”

“Yeah, I got that,” said Traci.

The Stickle house’s front door opened and Jess walked out, looking so tired and sick I felt bad that I hadn’t left her at home and done the job by myself.

Jess trudged across the lawn to me. “I think you have a fever. Go home. I can handle it.”

“I was just thinking the same thing about you,” I said.

“I’m fine. Your face is all pink.”

“It’s the barbecue sauce.”

Jess touched my forehead. “It’s not the sauce.”

The siblings looked at each other shamefaced.

“I’m so sorry,” said Traci. “We didn’t know you two were sick. We should’ve realized. I can hear it in your voices now.”

“And now you’re covered in…lunch,” said Tom. “I’m sorry, but that can’t be Dad. It just can’t.”

“Oh, it’s your dad alright,” said Jess. “He’s on the veranda right now.”

Everyone looked over and whispered about how there was no one there. But, of course, there was. Eugene Stickle, age about twenty-five, wearing a tee shirt, flip-flops, and swimming trunks, and Sgt. Thompson, in his usual death age, stood on the veranda talking with big hand gestures. Leo walked through the wall, looking exhausted from all his efforts. He gave us a thumbs-up and popped out.

“No!” yelled Eugene. “I’m not having it. Get off my lawn!”

The ghost turned and started ramming his arms through a pillar. The entire veranda shook.

“What’s happening?” asked just about everyone on the lawn.

“Get off. Get out. Get off. Get out,” Eugene chanted at he kept at the pillar.

Jess and I started herding everyone toward the sidewalk.

“We need you off the lawn,” said Jess.

“Why exactly?” Barry asked.

“We don’t know, but you’ve got to go,” I said.

Reluctantly, the family left the lawn and stood on the sidewalk and street. When they all got off, Eugene settled down, but he was glaring at us. Jess and I didn’t do anything to him, but since we were the only ones seeing him, I guess we were a handy target.

Sgt. Thompson said something to Eugene and then walked over to us.

“We have a situation,” he said.

“No kidding,” said Jess.

“Don’t sass me. I will write you a ticket.”

“For sass?”

The ghost sniffed and then turned to me. “He doesn’t want them to inherit.”

“Who is them?” I asked.

Sgt. Thompson waved his arm at the entire group. “All of them.”

“Because?” Jess asked.

“Because he heard two women saying that they were amazed that he never realized they weren’t his,” said Sgt. Thompson. “There were laws broken. Tell them that I will be writing tickets.”

“Sure,” I said. “Tickets for whatever. Which women did he hear?” I already knew, but I had to make certain.

The ghost pointed at Jill and Sharon. Eugene started yelling again and Sgt. Thompson went to threaten him with a ticket. It worked and he stopped, although I had no idea why. A ghost giving another ghost a ticket. What did Eugene think would happen?

Jess walked over to Sharon, who was trying to make herself small at the far edge of the group and I followed her.

“Eugene heard you talking to Jill.” Jess went into a coughing fit and bent over, sounding like pneumonia might not be far off.

“Time to fess up. We’ve got to get home,” I said.

Sharon wrapped her arms around herself and said, “I have nothing to confess.”

“Yes, you do,” said Jess after straightening up.

“It’s not my secret to tell.”

Traci marched over. “Then there is a secret.”

“I didn’t say that,” said Sharon quickly.

“You just did,” said Barry.

Sharon started backing away, but I grabbed her arm. I was sick. I was tired. I was covered in barbecue. I was not above shaking an elderly lady to get out of there. “It’s your secret now. She’s not around to keep it so it falls to you.”

“Rita was my best friend for my entire life. I am honoring her wishes.”

“She’s gone,” said Jess. “You’re not honoring her wishes. This is about you.”

“It is not,” said Sharon.

I tightened my grip. “What did you do? Own that, at least.”

“Watch out!” yelled Sgt. Thompson. “Incoming!”

I got a terrible chill and nearly threw up as Eugene Stickle went through me to yell in Sharon’s face. “I was your friend! I loved you!”

Sharon couldn’t hear him. She looked at me, shivering and swallowing hard. “What is going on?”

“Eugene is yelling at you,” said Jess.

“Eugene didn’t yell.”

“He does now.”

In death, Eugene Stickle had mastered yelling and he was not holding back. His anger was such that it radiated off him. The family couldn’t see or hear him, but they felt it and stepped back.

Off to the side of the group, Jill grabbed at her husband. “Don’t you dare leave. It’s time.”

“I’ll divorce you if you⁠—”

“Tell them!”

“No, no,” said Sharon. “Rita never wanted that.”

“Rita is not here,” said Jill. “It was wrong to begin with and it’s wrong now.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Sharon.

Jill looked at Irving. “I swear to God, Irving, I will do it myself.”

Jess and I looked at each other and we got it at the same time.

“Oh,” we said in unison.

“What?” Traci asked. “Is he still yelling?”

He was yelling, but most of it was unintelligible. Eugene had fully lost it and Sgt. Thompson couldn’t get him to calm down.

“Did you ever have a DNA test done?” I asked.

“You mean like 23andMe?”

“Yeah.”

“A few years ago,” said Traci.

“Me, too,” said a cousin and hands started going up.

A deep frown settled on Barry’s face. “We were researching our heritage. Why?”

Jess and I looked around. This wasn’t going to be easy. All those faces in the dark.

“Did anything odd come up on your test?” Jess asked.

Every single person shook their heads no.

“Nothing was odd,” said Tom, smiling. “I thought we might find some surprises. Mom’s dad was a traveling salesman and you know…”

“But nothing?” I asked.

“Nope,” said Barry.

“Your cousins are your cousins?”

The three siblings frowned, identical expressions. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

Eugene stopped yelling and turned around. A realization came over his face and I winced as I saw it. Then the ghost went for his brother. “Did you sleep with my wife?”

Irving backed up at the barrage, but I could tell he couldn’t see his brother, only feel the rage.

“What’s happening?” Traci asked. “Tell us, please.”

“I think maybe the kids should leave,” said Jess.

“Why?” Barry asked.

“Because—”

A girl about twenty-two stepped forward. “Because Grandpa is asking Uncle Irving if he slept with Grandma.”

Mouths fell open and then Traci asked, “Madison, you can…”

“I couldn’t at first, but now I see him and Sgt. Thompson.” She gave the officer a little wave and got one in return.

One of the grandsons said, “Grandpa thinks Grandma and Uncle Irving did it? Dude, that’s gross.”

Eugene turned to the boy. “I am not your grandpa.”

Madison stuck out her chin. “Yes, you are.”

“I am not.”

“You’ll always be our grandpa, no matter what.” Madison looked at Irving. “And you’ll always be Uncle Irving, but you have to tell the truth. Did you and Grandma have an affair?”

Spots of deep red appeared on Irving’s cheeks. “Certainly not.”

“They must’ve,” yelled Eugene.

“He doesn’t believe you,” said Jess.

Irving turned to Sharon. “You might as well. The gig is up.”

“But Irving⁠—”

The old man sighed and leaned on his wife. “They’re right. Rita is gone. It’s our secret now and it’s time to tell it.”

Sharon took a deep breath and told a story that was surprisingly simple. Eugene and Rita fell in love in college. They married and planned a house full of children. It didn’t happen. Five years went by with nothing. Rita went through what testing there was at the time and the doctor thought she wasn’t the cause of their infertility. Eugene wouldn’t discuss it. He absolutely refused to go to the doctor and kept saying that children would come. They had to be patient. Patience wasn’t one of Rita Stickle’s virtues. She and Sharon, who was a nurse, cooked up a plan. They, through methods best not discussed, got a hold of a sample from Eugene and determined that he was completely infertile. Children were not going to come. Period.

Since they were both desperate for kids and Eugene would never consider any option but his own, the ladies went to the next best thing, his brother Irving. He never wanted children and it wasn’t hard to convince him that a tiny effort on his part would give Eugene the family he wanted.

Sharon and Rita did the whole thing themselves. No doctors involved. Irving turned out to be very fertile. He gave three samples and three children resulted. Everyone was happy and Eugene took the three miracles at face value. Rita was terrified he would question their sudden fertility, but he never did.

“I always thought he really knew,” said Irving.

Eugene went stiff. “I did not know.”

“Come on, Grandpa,” said Madison. “Get real.”

“I’m very real, young lady.”

She smiled. “I know.”

Traci asked, “What did he say?”

“He didn’t know,” said Madison.

“I kinda thought he did too,” said Sharon. “Rita was always afraid the other shoe would drop. That’s why she needed the pills. I mean, it was nearly six years before Barry happened. Six years and then one, two, three kids, right in a row and no more. It’s not like Rita ever used birth control.”

“How would I know that?” Eugene asked, crossing his arms.

Madison rolled her eyes. “Grandpa.”

“I didn’t and I’m not your grandpa.”

The feisty granddaughter glanced around at her family. “We get to decide that.”

Eugene crossed his arms. “I’m in charge.”

Traci whispered, “What’s he saying?”

“He thinks he’s in charge,” said Madison.

Traci snorted and then rolled her eyes at her brothers. They surprised me by laughing.

“Dad was in charge,” said Barry. “That’s a good one.”

Tom elbowed him. “Remember how after Mom died, he couldn’t pay the bills?”

“He didn’t know what they were,” said Sharon.

“Hey,” said Eugene. “I knew what they were. I made the money.”

Madison repeated what he said. The whole family laughed and everything was different. Eugene Stickle beloved father, husband, and town vet got a lesson in himself. Rita was in charge. He never balanced a checkbook, paid a bill, acquired a loan, had a meeting with builders, or meted out a punishment to a wayward child. His wife took care of it and she took care of him becoming a father too. It didn’t seem so bad. A gift. Fifty years of happiness.

Barry looked at where his father was assumed to be standing. “You wouldn’t change it, would you, Dad?”

Eugene wrinkled his nose and said, “I’m still mad.”

Madison smiled. “He wouldn’t change it.”

The Stickles needed the truth to come out. When it did, everything got better. The truth had a way of doing that.

Chapter Two

Two weeks and a round of antibiotics later, I put my head down on the desk, letting my arms dangle. Then I took a calming breath and wished for deliverance.

Leo laughed and then said, “It’s not that bad.”

“You keep saying that, but seriously, there’s so much stuff,” I said with a groan.

“There’s a reason for everything. We’re almost done with Jess.”

“Almost being the most important part of that sentence.”

Leo’s voice was cheerful and soothing at the same time. He loved figuring things out to benefit anyone he considered family. We were lucky enough to be in that group, but sometimes life would’ve been easier if we weren’t. I could’ve just hired an accountant.

“Have some tea,” he said. “A mini break and then we’ll get on to the last section.”

“Tomorrow?” I asked.

“Today, Libby. You need this done.”

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs perked me up.

“The boys might need me for something,” I said.

The front door slammed.

“I don’t think so,” said Leo.

“Hey,” said Mariah from in the hall. “Do you know where your mom is?”

There were sounds of a scuffle and I looked up. The cats, Poptart and Pesto, eyed me from the in and out boxes on the desk. As soon as I looked at them, they started purring. I gave Pesto a scratch as Hambone, our new resident ghost turkey, dashed in and flew onto the back of a recliner, gobbling as she went. The rest of the turkeys had moved outside when spring sprung, but not Hambone. She was in to stay apparently.

“Stop smacking each other,” said Mariah. “Where’s Libby?”

“In the office,” said Max. “Ouch, that hurt.”

Henri cackled. “That’s for saying you got a higher PSAT score.”

“I did.”

The scuffling started again.

“You two are hopeless,” said Mariah.

My boys laughed and Max said, “No, we’re hopeful. We hope you stop Mom from doing the taxes. She flipping hates it.”

“How do you know she’s doing taxes?” Mariah asked.

“Because she always gets pimples when she does the taxes,” said Henri.

I touched my chin. They noticed. Unbelievable. The things I wanted them to notice, they didn’t. And things I’d rather not be noticed, they were all over those.

“That sucks,” said Mariah. “By the way, PSAT scores aren’t a big deal.”

“I beat him by⁠—”

“Prepare to suffer!” shouted Henri and the sound of bodies hitting the floor echoed through the house.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Mariah walked into the office and closed the door.

Gobble. Gobble. Gobble.

“Hey, Hammy,” said Mariah.

Gobble.

“Libby, I think The Eggs might be idiots.”

Gobble. Gobble. Gobble.

I picked up my mug. “Hambone and I don’t dispute that.”

“But they aren’t complete idiots,” said Leo with a smile.

Mariah eyed me. “Are you really doing taxes?”

I pointed at my chin.

“Bummer.”

“You have no idea,” I said.

Mariah flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder and bit her lip.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked as he came around my desk like he couldn’t just walk right through it.

“Does Mom know?” Mariah asked.

Leo glanced at me and then frowned. “Know what?”

“That you’re doing the taxes.”

“Sure,” I said. “They have to get done. Why do you ask?”

Mariah turned Hambone’s chair around to face the desk, causing considerable gobbling. “Dad used to do ours.”

I took a sip and thought about where this was going. I had an idea, but I wasn’t sure how to handle it. “I know.”

“That’s why Libby is doing Jess’ taxes this year,” said Leo. “I took the class so I could help. It’s a bit complicated.”

“Just a bit,” I said. “But we can handle it.”

Hambone gobbled and flapped her wings for emphasis. At least, that’s how I took it.

“Is Mom still in bed?” Mariah asked.

Leo and I looked at each other.

“She taught her classes at the Horny Hotel and it wore her out,” said Leo.

“The trappers were there and some new ghosts. It wasn’t the easiest morning,” I said, hoping Mariah would buy that.

“She’s getting sadder,” said Jess’s daughter with an edge to her voice.

No fudging the truth. Got it.

“A lot has happened,” I said.

Leo’s favorite armchair appeared next to Mariah’s and he sat down with his elbows on his knees. “All the anniversaries are going to be hard.”

“It was just one anniversary,” said Mariah, her lower lip trembling.

“The six-month anniversary of your father’s death hit her hard,” said Leo. “And then Valentine’s Day too.”

“Oh,” said Mariah. “I was only thinking about their actual anniversary last week.”

“It’s a lot,” I said.

“I wish your mom would come back, Libby. Beverly made her feel better. How long is she going to stay in Florida?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m trying to talk her into coming back and living with us permanently,” I said. “Is that what you wanted to see me about?”

Mariah shifted in her chair, her back went straight, and she folded her hands in her lap. “No. It’s something else, but you can’t tell Mom.”

I shook my head. “I can’t promise that. We don’t lie to each other. We never have.”

She slumped back, making Hambone squawk. “Fine.”

“What is it?” Leo asked. “We’re here to help.”

“I’m a junior and I think I should go on some college tours.”

I heaved a sigh. College tours. I could handle that.

“Sure. We can plan some.”

Mariah’s face changed and she started fiddling with the hem of her hoodie. Poptart stood up in the Out box, stretched, and then leapt from the desk to her lap, purring loudly.

“Hey, Tarty. That’s my good boy.” Mariah buried her face in his fur and Leo and I exchanged nervous looks.

“What’s up?” I asked. “I’m totally happy to plan tours. Jess will be too. We just didn’t think we’d be doing that until the fall.”

She looked up and said, “That’s the thing. I’ve already planned it. I just need your permission.”

A little knot formed in my stomach. “To do what?”

“To call Scooter.”

My mind was a blank, but Leo asked, “You want to call Angus McCloud? Why?”

Mariah sat up straight again. “Because he lives in New York and he liked Dad, right?”

“Everybody liked Hal,” I said. “What has McCloud got to do with anything?”

“I figured he wouldn’t mind helping. He’s pretty cool for a weirdo,” she said, her voice going breathy. “I’ve been babysitting a lot and people in St. Seb pay well. I shoveled snow and planted all those bulbs for the Blazevics after I did their lawn cleanup. I’ve got the money.”

What are we even talking about?

“For what?” I asked.

“The plane ticket and hotel,” she said. “I searched online. I can afford the whole thing. Leo can go too, if you’re nervous. No offense, Leo, but you travel for free and that’s easy, right?”

I plucked Pesto out of the In box and pressed him against my chest. “Why would you think you’d have to pay for your own expenses?”

“I heard you talking about money,” she said. “And it’s fine. I saved up. Mom doesn’t need to worry. I took care of it.”

I’m going to cry. Do not cry. You can’t cry.

“We don’t have money problems, Mariah. I’m sorry that you’re worried about that. We’re fine. Ask Leo,” I said, blinking rapidly.

Leo nodded. “They don’t. The books are right there on the desk. Jess and Libby are fine.”

“I’m still doing temp work. The art classes are blockbusters. And the ghost thing is great,” I said.

“I heard Mom say she won’t use the money. Dad’s money.” Mariah’s eyes were worried, but she didn’t want me to see it.

“You mean the insurance money,” I said.

“Yeah. I heard her. That doesn’t leave a lot.”

Leo leaned toward her. “It’s something your mom is going through. It will pass.”

She nodded. “I know, but until it does, I’ll pay for my trip. I don’t have McCloud’s number though. Can I have it?”

I took a drink to give myself a second to think. “Why McCloud?”

“Because he’s in New York,” said Mariah and the knot in my chest expanded.

“You want to go to school in New York?” I asked.

She was wringing her hands. “I know he’s busy. But it wouldn’t take a lot for him to get there. It’s not that far.”

I didn’t get to see Leo bewildered often, but he was certainly as bewildered as I was.

“Scooter lives in New York,” I said. “You’ve been to his apartment in Manhattan.”

“That’s why I picked him.”

“Why not far then?” Leo asked.

“Huh?” Mariah asked.

“You said it wouldn’t take a lot for him to get there,” I said. “He’s right in New York.”

“I meant to Cornell,” she said.

“Cornell?” Leo asked.

“Didn’t I say that? I planned to say that,” said Mariah in a rush. “I forgot. It’s a great school and you loved it, right?”

I nodded, but said, “I didn’t go there. Derek did.”

“But he loved it and you loved the town while he was in law school.”

“Yes. It’s a great school and I love Ithaca.” My lip was now trembling.

“Okay,” said Leo with a glance at me. “I hear what you’re saying. Cornell is just news to us.”

“I know,” said Mariah, “but I’ve been thinking about it for a long time and I want to take a tour.”

“That’s sounds like a reasonable idea,” said Leo, looking at me with sharp eyes. “I’m sure we can support a tour.”

This will kill Jess.

“Of course,” I said.

“You got a great SAT score,” said Leo. “They would be lucky to have you.”

Mariah smiled for the first time. She needed to smile. I had to be on board. Somehow.

“Which other schools do you want to see?” I asked. “Syracuse is close by and we could go down to the city. NYU and Columbia.”

She shook her head. “No. Just Cornell. That’s it.”

“Is this because Scooter was here?” I asked.

“Nope. I just want to go. You loved it there and I want to tour it.”

She sounded reasonable. She sounded okay. This could be okay.

“We will go to Ithaca and tour Cornell.” I touched my keyboard and opened my calendar. “October is beautiful in upstate New York. We could take a long weekend and⁠—”

“No, I’m going on spring break,” said Mariah and there was hardness to her expression that took me aback.

“Spring break?” Leo asked. “That’s in less than two weeks.”

“Yeah, but the ticket prices aren’t bad. I can do it. I just need Scooter’s number.”

“Mariah, there’s no way I’m sending you to New York on your own,” I said.

“But Leo⁠—”

The office door burst open. Max and Henri danced in, chanting, “We’re going to Cornell. Cornell, here we come.”

Mariah stood up. “No. You’re not going to Cornell.”

“Neither are you,” said Max.

“I am too.”

“Then so are we,” said Henri, spinning in a circle. “Going to Cornell. Spring break at Cornell.”

Mariah pointed at them. “You two can’t go to Cornell.”

“Nobody is going to Cornell, but we can tour it,” said Max.

“I can go to Cornell.”

My sunny-side-up boys laughed. “Of course you can go to Cornell. We can all go.”

“I meant I can go there,” said Mariah.

The Eggs started dancing the typewriter back and forth across the room.

“That’s what we just said,” said Henri. “This is cool AF.”

“How did you even know about this?” I asked.

There was a pop and Boy, the youngest trapper, appeared in his usual state of dirt and stink. “I tole ‘im.”

“You were in here?” Mariah asked, holding her nose. “How?”

Boy pointed at Leo with glee. “He taught me not to stink. I learned it good.”

Leo stood up, his face filled with a fury I’d rarely seen. “I didn’t teach you that so you could spy on the family.”

“Why you teach me then?” Boy asked in confusion.

“You and I are going to have a conversation,” said Leo.

“That don’t sound too good for me.”

“Now!”

Boy stuck out his tongue and vanished.

“You can’t hide from me!” yelled Leo and he was gone too.

Taxes were starting to look like a good time.

“Will you stop dancing, please,” I said.

“Can’t do it, Mom,” said Max. “We got our groove on.”

“You are awesome, Mariah,” said Henri. “Genius move. Saving spring break.”

“What?” Mariah asked.

“We always take a trip on spring break,” said Max. “Always. Every year, but Mom wasn’t going to do it ‘cause, ya know, all the stuff and things. It was a real bummer.”

“But you had a killer idea.” Henri pointed at me. “And she can’t say no to education. Education rules.”

“We’re going to have a great time. I texted Dad and he said we have to go to the Dairy Bar and have burgers at Okenshields. There’s this cool library that looks like it came out of Harry Potter.” Max pumped his fist. “This is awesome.”

The boys started chanting again. “Mariah is a genius. She is really smart.”

“Yeah, I’m a real genius.” Mariah stalked out of the room with Hambone scurrying after her.

“Boys, please. Read the room,” I said.

The Eggs looked at me.

“You look okay,” said Max.

“What about Mariah?” I asked.

“We said she was awesome,” said Henri.

I sighed. “I don’t think this is what Mariah was going for.”

Their eyes widened.

“What do you mean?” Max asked. “We always travel on spring break together. All of us. It’s normal. We like normal. You keep saying we have to get to a new normal.”

“I do say that,” I said with a sigh.

“So we’re going to Cornell,” said Henri with a huge grin.

The front door slammed, rattling the walls.

“That sounds kinda mad,” said Max.

“Ya think?” I asked.

The boys ran to the window and looked out.

“She’s heading for The Grind,” said Henri.

“Oh, crap,” said Max.

I hurried over to look. Mariah was on the sidewalk, yelling at Hambone and the rest of the turkeys. Once the flock moved out to the front lawn, they’d taken an inexplicable liking to Mariah. Every time she went somewhere they followed like big, gobbling ducklings. She hated it, but they loved her. Hambone especially. Mariah was still yelling as a car drove by. The flock ran into the street to get between Mariah and the vehicle, getting huge and displaying their feathers to protect her.

“Go away!” Mariah yelled.

The driver thought she was nuts. He clearly did not see turkeys charging his car.

“We better save her,” said Max.

The boys ran out, carrying a bag of bird feed we kept by the front door for such emergencies. They threw out seed and the turkeys ran for real food they couldn’t eat, and Mariah marched off down the street without a backward glance with only Hambone ignoring the feed and following. The driver kept staring and I slumped against the window frame.

“How can I stop this?” I said to myself.

“You can’t.”

I turned around and Jess stood there, wearing her bathrobe with her hair ratted up on top of her head.

“You heard?”

She smiled. “Mariah is a genius. She is really smart.”

“She is,” I said. “I don’t know why she wants to go to Cornell. I didn’t encourage it.”

Jess came over and put her head on my shoulder. “I know.”

“But we’re going?”

“Mariah wants it so I have to do it,” she whispered. “But I can’t go alone.”

“I don’t think that would be allowed anyway.” I watched the boys laughing and waving at passing cars. “They’re focused and right. We do always travel on spring break.”

“I know it’s not what they think it is, but I’m happy they intervened,” said Jess.

“You’re okay?” I asked.

“I think it might be a good thing. A change of scene.”

A change of scene that wouldn’t turn out quite the way we expected.

Chapter Three

When you’re in Ithaca, it always seems to snow in March. Sometimes it even snows in April. We’d packed for questionable weather and it was a good thing too. Fat snowflakes buffeted us as a wind kicked up, shaking the trees lining the path that the boys were pulling us down.

“Hurry up,” said Max.

“We’re going to miss it,” said Henri.

Mariah smiled in spite of herself. “Since when do you care about being late?”

“Since the concert starts at six,” said Max. “Dad said to do it first.”

Jess nudged me. “Now we follow the rules.”

“It’s not a rule,” said Henri. “He just wants us to do it.”

Mariah slowed down. “I think we should just enjoy the walk. It’s a pretty campus.” She gave Jess the side-eye and Jess nodded.

“It’s really beautiful. I’d forgotten how nice it is,” she said, slowing down.

“Oh, come on,” said Max, pulling me faster.

“How many times did you visit?” Henri asked.

“Oh gosh,” she said. “I don’t know. Libby?”

“Probably five or six while we were here,” I said, smiling at the memory of Jess coming to campus and lighting up the law school world. “Plus, graduation.”

“Did Scooter ever try to marry you?” Max asked.

Jess burst out laughing and my heart sang.

“He did. A few times,” she said.

“Are you serious, Mom?” Mariah asked, feigning horror. “You and Angus McCloud.”

“There was no Jess and McCloud,” I said. “He just tried to marry her.”

“How does that even work?” Henri asked.

“Derek would sneak us into graduate student night at Red Barn. Everyone would get hammered on cheap pitchers and McCloud would decide he was in love with Jess. Then he’d propose.”

“Did he kiss you?” Mariah wrinkled her nose.

“Nope. He was ever the gentleman,” said Jess. “I’d say no and he’d have another pitcher. To be fair, I think he proposed to lots of people.”

I started laughing as we walked past a small red-brick church onto the main thoroughfare. “He proposed to me one time.”

“What did Dad do?” Max asked.

“He laughed.”

Henri frowned. “He wasn’t mad?”

“Since he kept calling me Jasmine, Dad didn’t take it seriously,” I said.

“Who was Jasmine?”

“I have no idea.”

“What a weirdo,” said Henri. “I love that guy.”

“Everyone needs a McCloud in their life,” I said. “That’s it. McGraw Tower.”

We paused for a moment to look up at the pointy clock tower made of stone. It was an elegant design, simple but striking. Derek and I spent a lot of time up there. We were happy. Very happy.

“Okay, Mom?” Max asked.

“Yeah. It’s just very cool to be back,” I said. “Thanks, Mariah.”

She nodded. “Spring break. It had to happen.”

“Yeah, it did.” Max pumped his fist. “Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

“Maybe we can get a snack first,” said Mariah, looking around.

“No snacks,” said Henri. “Are you crazy?”

She put her hand to her chest. “Who me?”

“She’s just bothering us,” said Max. “Come on.”

The boys let go of us and sprinted ahead while we followed, feeling the incline that didn’t look like much but I sure did feel it like after a long day.

“What is it with the bell tower?” Mariah asked.

I hooked my arm through hers. “Derek was a chimesmaster.”

“A what?”

“He played the tower chimes,” I said. “It’s a Cornell thing.”

“Oh,” said Mariah. “Can anyone do it?”

Jess tensed and I said, “You have to audition.”

“Is it hard?” Mariah asked.

“I think that depends on who you ask.”

“Not hard for Derek then?”

I squeezed her arm. “Nothing was hard for him.”

“Like those two,” she said rather wistfully.

“They probably think everything’s easy for you,” said Jess, taking Mariah’s other arm.

“They don’t envy me,” said Mariah.

We followed the path around the tower and found The Eggs standing at the entrance, taking selfies.

“I think they admire you and if they don’t say it,” I said, “it’s because their brains don’t settle on anything long enough to articulate the feeling. You certainly make things look easy.”

Mariah stopped walking. “Do I?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

Jess nodded. “You do and if you’re pretending to be okay so no one will worry, you don’t have to. Not for me.”

Mariah looked over at the boys waving for her to hurry. “Okay.”

She hurried over to Max and Henri and they ducked inside the half-moon glass entry that was reminiscent of a hobbit hole.

“How many stairs are there?” Jess asked.

“It’s best not to think about that.”

We went in and met the boys at a heavy metal door with a placard saying Welcome to McGraw Tower. The sign gave the rules. The door opened shortly before concerts and closed midway through. The tower was always strictly controlled, at least, it was supposed to be. Derek was never much bothered by the rules and I wasn’t either to be honest.

Max and Henri took a selfie with Mariah by the door and then tried it. Unlocked so we went up the circular staircase, around and around.

“I think it got taller,” said Jess.

“It’s really cool,” said Max. “Dad is super excited. He says we should go over to the law school next.”

“How are we supposed to get in?” I asked.

“We’ll figure it out,” said Henri.

Huffing and puffing, we finally got to the chimes’ room. They had made some improvements since Derek played, but it still had the same brick walls, pretty wood ceiling, and of course, the chimes sitting in the middle. If you didn’t know what they were, you might take them for a kind of odd organ in an open, varnished wood frame, thick strings came down from the ceiling and there were two rows of pedals, one for the hands and one for the feet.

There were chairs arranged around the chimes and two girls, glancing around shyly and shuffling music selections. We sat down and got comfortable and then some more people came in. Parents with their high schoolers there for the weekend tours like us.

Soon the chimesmasters had a full house, but they didn’t look particularly comfortable with it. They kept glancing back at the visitors nervously.

Max leaned into me. “What do you think they’ll play?”

“You should ask.”

“You think?”

“Dad loved chatting with the guests. He said he played better,” I said.

The Eggs looked at each other and raised their hands. The girls looked startled and then one, a pretty girl with a soft Korean accent asked, “Yes? Can I help you?”

“Hey, I’m Max and this is my brother Henri. Our Dad was a chimesmaster forever ago.”

“Thanks,” I said.

The boys chuckled and Henri continued, “He loved to play movie soundtracks. What are you going to play?”

“What was your dad’s name?” the girl asked.

“Derek Forest.”

The other girl looked at a list and then held it up. “I found him. Three years. That’s really cool. Is he a musician?”

“Lawyer,” said Max.

“I’m Ava. I’m a law student,” she said shyly. “1L.”

“Cool,” said Henri. “That’s Mariah. She’ll probably go to law school here.”

“What?” Mariah gasped and the whole group laughed.

“Like that’s not the plan,” said Henri.

“That’s not the plan,” said Mariah. “I’m still in high school.”

A man sitting with two girls who looked embarrassed to be seen with him said, “Somebody’s long-term planning for their sister.”

“She’s not our sister,” said Max. “Well, kinda.”

Then the boys started asking questions the way only they could. The chimesmasters were smiling and explaining everything before they even got to their canned speech on the chimes themselves. The concert was lovely. They started with the Beatles and went on to play music from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack and then some Aaron Copeland.

I don’t know when he appeared, but I noticed a man standing by the low arched window. He definitely didn’t fit in and wasn’t there before. Once you saw him, you absolutely couldn’t stop looking at him. He wore a powder blue leisure suit with a shiny black and white shirt underneath. I know that sounds like something an old guy would be wearing, but he was young, about twenty-five, with thick brown hair and some killer sideburns.

He saw me looking at him and waved. I smiled and glanced around. No one else could see him. By no one else, I mean people not with me. Jess saw him and whispered, “That suit is amazing.”

“I know, right?”

When the concert was over, the chimesmasters took requests. The Eggs had requests. Of course they did. The girls didn’t know most of them, but they were as ever, undeterred. My boys got all the other kids up and crowded around the chimes. They were all talking and laughing. The young law student played Darth Vader’s theme and they all sang along. The chimesmasters played duets and fielded questions about Cornell, food, people, and the weather.

The dad looked over at us in amazement and asked, “Are they magical? Olivia and Isabel barely speak to me or anyone.”

“Not magical. Just outgoing,” I said.

The ghost snorted and Henri gave him a thumbs-up. I don’t think anyone noticed, but it made me nervous. It was one thing to see ghosts in St. Seb. Heck, it was practically expected, but the rest of the world was different, so we had to be different.

“Well, I think they’re great. I’m Mark. We’re here to try to get the girls interested in upping their SAT scores to apply. Olivia’s my daughter and Isabel’s my best friend’s youngest.”

“Did you get the short straw?” asked a woman wearing two sweaters and a down comforter masquerading as a coat.

“I thought so, but now I’m not so sure. They’re having fun. Looks like your son is too.”

We looked over at her son who was dressed in head to toe black, not in the cool way but instead in the I’m unhappy way. He certainly seemed unhappy until Henri forced him out of his seat by asking what his favorite bands were and getting the chimesmasters to play him a song. I’d never heard of the band, but they were important somehow. Now he was smiling and talking to Olivia about where they were going to dinner.

“I can’t believe it,” she said. “I’m afraid to breathe. I might break the spell. I’m Susan, by the way. Do you have dinner plans? It sounds like Josh wants to go to dinner with everyone.”

“We have a reservation at Red’s,” said Jess. “Should I call and see if they can fit more?”

“I’d love that,” said Mark. “We were going to wing it.”

Jess looked up the number and the chimesmasters called it a night. We all clapped and thanked them.

“Where are you going now?” asked Ava. “There’s so much to see.”

“The law school,” said Henri. “Dad says we have to look around.”

“But it’s locked,” said Max. “Hint. Hint.”

Her partner had to go, but Ava offered to take us to the law school. Red’s said they’d fit our growing group in and we all started going down the stairs. The boys were last and it took forever for them to come down. Ava asked what they were doing and they just said they were looking at the woodwork or something. She bought it thankfully and didn’t see the ghost coming through the closed door after Ava had closed it.

“Your sons are great,” he said to me. “Bring them back anytime.”

“Oh, we’ll be back,” said Max.

Ava gave him a funny look and he quickly said, “To see you play.”

“Oh, nice. Thanks. You guys made everything easy. This is my first semester. I still get nervous. Are you ready to go see the law school?”

We went outside and made arrangements to meet at Red’s at eight. Mark and Susan, with their crew, broke off to go to the Cornell Store and we walked down to the law school. The boys chatted up Ava, who loved Cornell and encouraged them to apply.

When we got to the main building, the boys insisted on pictures with Ava and Mariah in front of the arched wooden door. I was cold so I hurried them up and Ava used her ID to get us in. She started a tour like a professional, talking mainly to Mariah, who was more interested than either Jess or I expected.

“Do you think the boys know something we don’t?” Jess whispered.

“I guarantee it.”

“Is that good?”

I shrugged and she ran to catch up with Ava and Mariah. The boys hung back and walked with me.

“I’m starving,” said Henri.

“You do not surprise me.” I got a couple of granola bars out of my purse and handed them over.

The boys munched on them as we walked through a study area that had quite a few students sitting around working diligently.

“It’s Friday night and they’re studying,” said Max. “How did Dad do it?”

I smiled and said, “He didn’t do it on Friday night. I can tell you that.”

“I thought he was studying all the time,” said Henri.

“Just most of the time.”

“Do they let people sit in on classes?”

“I don’t know. We can ask on Monday,” I said.

“Or now,” said Max.

Ava stopped at the doors to the law library. “We have to be quiet, but it’s so pretty. You have to see it.”

We went in and the kids were awed at the size, the arched wooden ceiling, and the row of black chandeliers going down the center of the room. It was a beautiful library, but the one I loved wasn’t in the law school. Ava led us through and we went through some corridors to an antechamber covered in wood paneling and filled with cushy chairs for studying. Jess said her feet hurt so she sat down with Mariah and Ava.

I turned to the boys. “What did you mean when you said how about now?”

“Huh?” they asked in unison.

“You wanted to see a class. I said Monday and you said how about now.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Max. “There’s a class right now.”

“It’s Friday night,” I said.

“So?”

“There aren’t classes on Friday night.”

The boys shrugged and Henri said, “Except there is.”

“Where?”

They told me where but I couldn’t follow their directions.

“Hey, Ava, are there classes happening right now?” I asked.

“No. That would be terrible. I live for Fridays.”

I looked at the boys. “See.”

Max called over to Ava, Jess, and Mariah, “We’ll be right back.”

Jess put her feet up on a coffee table and said, “Sounds good to me.”

The boys led me through the school. How they found their way was a mystery. I’d wandered those halls with Derek and I had no idea where I was, but the boys found the classroom they were looking for. The small windows were covered so we couldn’t see in and I asked, “How do you know there’s a class?”

“Guys were going in. They had books and looked tired.” Max reached over and grabbed the door handle before I could say it would be locked. They were always locked. Law students were known for getting into things they shouldn’t. Derek might’ve been a large reason why rooms were locked, but I wasn’t going to tell the boys that. They had enough ideas on their own.

Max whipped open the door, to my surprise, and Henri hustled through the door. No fear, no hesitation. That’s my boy. I followed him in and to my shock, we walked right into a class. A professor with his shirt sleeves rolled up stood at the chalkboard writing something about settlement structures and an opioid MDL.

“Pay strict attention to the timeline of⁠—”

“Dr. Miniver,” said a student.

The professor turned, saw us, and froze. The group of about twenty students shifted in their seats to look at us in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, grabbing Max’s hand. “I didn’t believe there was a class on Friday night.”

“Told you,” said Henri.

“It’s alright!” called out the professor.

I pushed the boys back through the door, apologizing profusely, and closed the door. “I can’t believe we interrupted a class or meeting or whatever.”

“They weren’t mad.” Max went for the door again. “Let’s watch.”

“No.” I blocked him. “You might have that professor some day and he will remember this. Law professors forget nothing. They’re freaks that way.”

“Are we really law school material?” asked Henri with a wrinkled nose.

“That’s Mariah,” said Max.

Mariah walked up with Jess and Ava. “I am not.”

“You don’t know,” said Henri.

“I do too.” She huffed and looked around. “What are you doing?”

I steered the boys away from the classroom door lest they get any ideas. “Causing problems and wreaking havoc.”

“Just the usual then,” said Jess.

The boys grinned and asked Ava if she was coming to dinner with us. She blushed and we quickly asked her to come. Her local knowledge was top notch. She agreed to forgo a Friday at Red Barn with its cheap pitchers and drunken grad students for what we claimed would be a quiet dinner with normal people and Max and Henri. She believed us. Heck, I believed us, but I should’ve known better.

Chapter Four

Dinner at Red’s was as advertised. They had solid burgers and a fun atmosphere. The place had lots of students and prospective students with their parents trying the local food on The Commons, the pedestrians-only area at the center of Ithaca. Mark and Susan turned out to be super social and had made friends with the parents at the surrounding tables and the kids, except Mariah, chatted up everyone from the staff to current students. Even Josh talked to people. He blushed and fidgeted, but he talked. Olivia and Isabel had taken it upon themselves to get him out of his shell. Susan was so happy, I thought she might cry. Instead, she had a second margarita and threatened to dance, much to Josh’s horror.

I sipped my margarita and caught Mariah muttering something to herself.

“What?” I asked.

“That guy’s here,” she said with a scowl.

“What guy?”

She started to point and then stopped. “He’s gone.”

I glanced around. “Who are we talking about?”

“Some old guy on campus. He was outside the law school. Then I saw him behind us when we were walking here and now he’s in the restaurant.”

My chest tightened. “Did he say something to you? Do something?”

“No. It’s just creepy.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Brown hair. Old. Wearing a suit,” said Mariah. “Don’t worry about it. I think he left.”

I did worry about it. Things like that could be a coincidence, but a woman would be a fool just to let down her guard. “Alright but tell me if you see him again.”

Mariah nodded, but I wasn’t entirely sure she would. Her eyes were on Jess returning from the bathroom and Mariah looked worried. Jess was doing okay. Better than I expected, but I could tell she was thinking about Hal. He should’ve been there. Jess kept looking like she wanted to save him a chair or order his favorite drink and had to stop herself. She covered well. No one but Mariah and I could see it.

Jess slid into her seat as Henri and Max returned to the table after talking to a group from California. “Are we going back to the hotel?”

“Where else are we supposed to go?” Mariah asked.

“It’s a college town. There’s stuff,” said Max.

Mark dropped into his seat, threw back a shot, and said, “I agree. The night is young. Let’s do something.”

Susan eyed her son. Josh started to say something and then stopped himself.

“I think so too,” said Henri. “Let’s go…to a bar.”

“We can’t go to a bar with our parents,” said Josh.

Susan put an arm over his thin shoulders. “You can’t go without us.”

I watched Jess’ face. She was so tired. So sad. Mariah was watching her too.

Mark glanced back and forth between them and said, “Just for a little while. We have to see the undergrad scene.”

Susan looked at me with intensity. Josh wanted to go, even if he didn’t say it. This was her chance to get her boy out and I couldn’t ruin it.

“Just for a little while.”

“Sure,” said Jess. “It’s not late.”

We settled up and Mark started recruiting the other parents. It turned out he had charm for days and was more like The Eggs than I had initially suspected. We left Red’s with fourteen parents and twice as many kids.

“Where are we going?” Mariah asked.

“Somewhere cool,” said Henri.

“How do you know?” Isabel asked.

He spread his arms wide. “‘Cause we’re all going to be there.”

“You know you’re nuts, right?” Olivia said with a hair flip.

Max grinned. “You’re on to us.”

Everyone laughed and Mark seemed to have a plan. He led us out of The Commons and down into Collegetown. We stopped in front of a bar that nobody over the age of twenty-two would ever go into. Crazy Mike’s made me feel sticky and we weren’t even inside yet. The sign painted on the red and yellow exterior was hand done and not in a good way. The painter was most likely drunk. He forgot the apostrophe in Mike’s and the letters started out large and got super small by the time the painter got to the words ‘cheap pitchers and well drinks.’ The windows were grimy and the music loud enough to rattle the windows.

“We’re going here?” Susan asked.

“It was recommended,” said Mark.

“By who?” one of the other parents asked.

“Isabel’s dad.”

We all looked at Isabel and she held up her hands. “That’s crazy. My dad won’t use public bathrooms and puts Lysol on everything.”

“This place might be why,” said Susan. “Let’s do it.”

“Really?” Josh asked.

“Hey. I’m fun,” said his mother. “You just never noticed.”

Her son muttered, “There’s a reason for that.”

She leaned over to him. “I know and that’s about to change.”

“I don’t think⁠—”

“Too late,” said Mark and he whipped open the door. Noise masquerading as music flooded the street and the bouncer moved into the doorway.

“Oh,” he said. “I… uh…”

“Step aside and prepare to party,” said Mark with a winning smile. “It’s parents’ weekend and we’re coming in.”

“Oh, my god,” whispered Olivia.

“This is awesome,” said Henri.

“Sir,” said the bouncer. “This is an undergrad bar. You want Maxwell’s or something, not this.”

Mark stepped into the doorway. “Wrong. We’re Gen X. We raised ourselves and we can deal with anything.”

“Sir, please.”

Susan peeped around Mark’s bulk. “And we tip well. Like really well.”

Another guy wearing a worn-out Cornell tee and carrying a bottle of off-label whiskey appeared at the bouncer’s side. “Let them in. I need the money.”

The bouncer stepped aside and we followed Mark into the dark bar that was about half full of undergrads trying to look cool and failing. You can’t be cool if you’re wearing pajama bottoms and flip-flops in March. It’s not a thing.

Mark raised his arms and proclaimed, “Gen X in the house!”

The undergrads moved with one mind toward the door.

“The first round is on me!” Mark yelled.

That made them pause.

“The second round is on me!” Susan yelled.

“Mom!” Josh stared at her with huge eyes.

“Fun. I told you.” Susan held up a credit card and a cheer went up.

Gen X and kids filled the bar. Mark offered the money-hungry bartender a twenty to get the top shelf liquor and not pick up another bottle of swill again. He had to go to the basement to find the good stuff because no one in that joint had ever asked for it before.

Mark turned to the bouncer. “Where’s the sound system?”

“Well…”

“This is the music you play when you’re considering punching yourself in the face. We have to change it.”

Henri and Max pushed in.

“He’s right,” said Max. “This sucks.”

“It’s a local band,” said the bouncer.

Henri nodded. “Yeah, they’re gonna stay local.”

“I can’t⁠—”

Mark held up another twenty.

“Right this way, sir.”

Susan chased after them saying, “I have the perfect song.”

“I can’t believe it,” muttered Josh.

I laughed. “She’s happy.”

“I guess.”

“What’s your explanation?” Jess asked.

“She’s finally gone crazy.”

Max and Henri laughed.

“You should enjoy it,” said Isabelle.

“Easy for you to say. Your parents aren’t here,” said Josh.

The music stopped abruptly and then a beat started. Jess turned to me and smiled.

“What’s that?” Mariah asked and Gen X answered. “The Electric Slide!”

The undergrads gasped in horror, but free drinks and the multitude of parents blocking the door stopped them from leaving. Susan danced out from the back and started doing the Electric Slide by herself.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know it!” Susan yelled.

Half the parents joined her and the other half wanted to.

Mark came out laughing and got a shot of good Irish whiskey from the eager bartender.

“Just what I need to Slide,” he said before throwing it back.

“Dad, you can’t,” said Olivia. “It’s too embarrassing.”

“I can do anything,” said Mark. “Tonight you’re going to get it.”

“Get what?” Olivia asked, looking seriously worried.

“Nobody took me on college tours. Nobody took me to college at all,” he said as he started to do the Slide.

“What do you mean, Dad? You went to college.”

“I mean, nobody took me. Your grandparents dropped me off at the airport and said, ‘Good luck.’ They didn’t even come in.”

“That did not happen.”

Mark threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah, it did and you know what? I considered myself lucky that I got a ride to the airport.”

“What the heck, Dad?”

“What can I say,” said Mark. “That’s Baby Boomers for you.”

Mariah looked at Jess and she surprised me by saying, “I didn’t even get the ride. I took a cab.”

Max and Henri said together, “No way Grandma and Grandpa did that.”

“Nope,” I said, feeling myself both blessed and a bit embarrassed at the same time. “I had a hard time getting them to leave campus.”

“Yeah, she did,” said Jess. “They were awesome and who I want to be for you, Mariah.”

Mariah’s eyes got moist and she couldn’t speak.

“Come on, Mom,” said Henri.

The Eggs dragged me onto the floor and then they went after the undergrads. Between Mark and my boys almost the entire bar did the Electric Slide. It was really something. Then the music changed to Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies.” Mark knew that dance and he knew it well. I thought Olivia and Isabelle would pass out, but a bunch of undergrad girls got on the floor and did it with him.

“Is this amazing or what?” Susan asked me.

“It is amazing.”

Someone picked “Rain on Me” and I don’t think anyone was standing still, except Jess and Mariah.

Max came over and tried to get Mariah on the floor. “Come on. Everyone’s having fun.”

“Not her,” said Mariah.

She gestured to a waitress who was carrying a couple of pitchers out to a table of blonde girls who couldn’t stop giggling and dancing at their table. I’d noticed the waitress before. She stood out with her lank hair and glum expression. Jess and Mariah looked exuberant compared to her.

“She looks like how I feel,” said Mariah.

“What?” Jess asked.

“I’m going to the bathroom.”

Mariah disappeared into the crowd and Jess turned to ask, “Is it me?”

“It’s not not you,” said Max.

“Max!” I exclaimed.

“She asked, Mom.”

I pushed him onto the dance floor and then hugged Jess. “It’s fine. She’s okay.”

“Why are we here, Libby?”

“Mark had a great idea,” I said with a smile at the dad cheering as Brittny Spear’s “Womanizer” came on, making the undergrads laugh and start dancing with him and Olivia. Isabel danced with an awkward Josh, and Susan tried not to watch every move he made, her eyes lit up.

“I meant here in Ithaca,” said Jess.

I shrugged. “I don’t know where this came from. Sylvia said Sam and Keely were surprised too.”

“I have to try harder,” said Jess.

I took her arm and squeezed. “You have to do what feels right to you.”

She took a breath. “I used to be fun.”

“You are fun.”

“That’s right. I am.” Jess went onto the dance floor, looking a bit like she had arthritis but she started dancing with Mark and his group. I don’t know if she was enjoying it, but she was giving it a go. I joined them and we all danced for hours, laughing so hard at the kids and ourselves. I forgot about everything for a while and I think maybe Jess and Mariah had flashes of forgetting. I hope they did.

When my feet started hurting, I went to the bar for a water and a breather.

“He’s here,” said Mariah, joining me with her orange juice.

“Who?” I asked.

“That guy that’s following us.”

I spun around. “Where?”

“He’s gone again,” she said. “No. Wait. There he is. By the bathrooms.”

Mariah slammed down her glass and took off. I went after her but got blocked by a bunch of people line dancing to “Achy Breaky Heart.” When I got around them, I caught sight of Mariah marching up to a man in a corduroy suit with her finger raised ready to give him what for. She was not a shrinking violet that was for sure.

I pushed through the crowd and heard Mariah say, “What do you think you’re⁠—”

She didn’t get to finish. The expression on his face changed and it happened. He popped into a young boy, a teenager, and so many other versions of himself in rapid succession. Then he was gone, leaving Mariah standing there, stunned, with her finger in the air in front of no one at all.

I got to her and pushed her arm down, hoping no one had seen. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“That happened?” Mariah asked.

“It definitely happened.”

“Was that…like when Patrick did it at the Horny Hotel when you first saw him?”

“Pretty much.”

Jess ran up. “Who in the heck was that?”

“A murderer,” said Mariah.

“What?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know about that.”

“Do you know who he is?” Jess asked.

“Not exactly.”

Mariah and Jess put their arms around each other and waited. I told them about the classroom and the professor.

“I thought he was alive. They always look alive,” I said.

“They do,” said Mariah. “I totally thought he was alive.”

“So he’s a Cornell professor,” said Jess.

“Maybe,” I said. “One of the students called him Dr. Miniver.”

“Are law professors doctors?” Mariah asked.

“Not always. You don’t have to have a doctorate to teach.”

Mark came over, mopping the sweat off his brow with a wad of paper napkins. “I think we’re calling it a night. We’re on the tour in the morning and I think I should be at least partially alert.”

The parents were all winding down. None of us had been out dancing until after midnight in years and in some cases decades. When we headed out, the undergrads clapped for us and then continued dancing the “Macarena.”

Everyone scattered to their respective hotels with plans to meet up again before leaving Ithaca. The Eggs didn’t seem to notice the worried expressions on our faces as they danced down the street declaring Ithaca the best ever.

The boys went into their room, happily talking about plans to return to Crazy Mike’s, and we went into ours with no such chatter.

“Get your computer,” said Jess to Mariah.

“On it.”

All three of us curled up on one of the queen beds and watched as Mariah searched for Dr. Miniver Cornell University. Nothing popped up, but she kept after it and eventually she found on the university site a reference to Dr. Morris Miniver who taught from 1975 to 1982.

“We need a newspaper search,” said Jess.

I got my computer and opened our account on the newspaper site. “Let’s see. New York. 1982.”

Mariah pointed at the screen. “The Ithaca Journal.”

I opened the database and searched. It took a mere minute to find Dr. Miniver mentioned in an article.

“I knew it,” said Mariah.

“We don’t know anything,” said Jess. “He wasn’t a suspect.”

“He dropped dead at the police station.”

I had to admit that it didn’t look good for Dr. Miniver. The brief article said that he’d been at the Ithaca police station answering questions about the death of a law student named Virginia Cushing. He suffered a heart attack and died during the interview. The detective on the case said that Dr. Miniver was not a suspect and had come in to give what information he had. Virginia Cushing was a favorite student of his and he was very upset when he learned of her death.

“Why wasn’t he a suspect?” Mariah asked.

“It doesn’t say,” I said, flipping through to another reference to Dr. Miniver. “Here’s his obituary. Married. Two kids. He was only forty-eight.”

“He went to Cornell and Harvard,” said Jess.

“That doesn’t mean he couldn’t have killed her,” said Mariah. “Why did he die when the cops asked him questions?”

“She was a favorite student,” I said. “Let’s see what they have on Virginia.”

I found a bunch of articles on the second-year law student. A local had found her body downstream from Beebe Lake just past Rocky Falls, snagged on a rock. Initially, the cops were keeping an open mind. Virginia was last seen walking through campus on the Friday before spring break after a law review meeting. The other members of the law review thought she was fine, not upset or distressed. They said she went into Dr. Miniver’s office before she left and they talked about editing an article. A student who was waiting outside the office heard the entire discussion. He said they weren’t happy with the law review note they were editing. It was riddled with errors, but neither the professor nor Virginia were upset about anything else or with each other. The waiting student said they sounded fine to him.

After Virginia’s walk through campus, she was never seen alive again. Her friends said she was staying on campus for the break. They all left early on Friday and most of the campus was cleared out, including notably Dr. Miniver, who the cops were trying to track down.

By the time Dr. Miniver and his wife returned from their ski trip in Canada, Virginia’s death was believed to be a suicide. After the professor died, it became official. Virginia Cushing threw herself off the Beebe Dam Bridge and that was that.

“It wasn’t a murder?” Mariah asked.

“You sound disappointed,” said Jess.

“Well, you saw him. What did you think?”

Jess and I got quiet. The memory of Patrick Otto’s reaction to being asked about Leo was still pretty fresh in our minds and Dr. Miniver’s response to Mariah coming at him just so darn similar.

“You know you think he did it or something,” she said.

“He was skiing with his wife,” I said.

“Maybe he did something else. Are there any other articles?”

I worked my way through a few other mentions of Dr. Miniver and came up empty. If somebody suspected him of something else, it wasn’t in that newspaper.

Jess yawned and said, “We have to get to bed.”

“But—”

“Please, I’m so tired.” Jess fell over and I stifled my own yawn.

“It can wait, Mariah,” I said.

She stood up and crossed her arms. “It’s been waiting since 1982.”

“Then another night won’t make any difference,” said Jess.

Mariah made a face, grabbed her PJs, and went into the bathroom. When the water started running, Jess rolled over and said, “Do you feel like something’s going to happen with this?”

I nodded. “It’s just a question of when.”

Chapter Five

Morning came way too early and the buffet breakfast at the hotel tasted like deep-fried salt. The coffee wasn’t great either, but it did the trick, enough to get us out the door anyway. Mariah was the only one that looked ready to go. She had lip gloss on and a list of questions to ask the tour guide. Jess had hound dog eyes, but she did comb her hair.

I drove and we yawned our way onto campus to park as close to the Welcome Center as possible. The boys were uncharacteristically quiet but only because they were asleep.

“I dread waking them up,” I said.

“Why are they here exactly?” Mariah asked with a sniff.

“Would you leave them alone in the middle of a college town with no supervision?” I asked.

“Never mind.”

Jess yawned so hard her jaw cracked.

“You need more coffee,” said Mariah. “You have to remember stuff.”

“We’ll remember stuff,” said Henri with his eyes still closed.

“You aren’t remembering anything.”

“We will,” said Max, also appearing to be asleep.

I parked and Mariah jumped out to pull open Jess’ door, practically dragging her from the rental. “Hurry.”

“What are you doing?” Jess asked.

“We have to go,” said Mariah.

The boys got out very slowly and Henri said, “She’s trying to ditch us.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, Mariah,” I said. “This is about you.”

“It could be about us,” said Max.

Henri nodded. “I prefer it to be about you and us.”

Mariah crossed her arms. “And yet it’s not.”

Jess got out the slowest of all of us and faced the boys. “I didn’t reserve you spots. You’re out of luck.”

The boys grinned at her and Jess raised an eyebrow.

Mariah stomped her foot. “This is my tour. It was supposed…” She choked up and her eyes got moist. “It was supposed to be my trip. You aren’t taking over.”

“We wouldn’t do that,” said Max.

“Oh, really?”

I took the boys by their sleeves, just in case. “We have plans. Don’t worry.”

The boys rubbed their hands together.

“Plans? What plans?” Max asked.

“Food fight in the cafeteria? Greek games?” Henri asked.

“I know. Toga party.”

“It’s ten in the morning,” said Mariah. “Are you crazy?” She sighed. “I don’t know why I ask that anymore.”

The Eggs grinned at her.

“We don’t either,” said Max.

I frowned. “Were you drinking last night?”

“We might’ve watched some movies to get us in the college mood before we got here,” said Max.

“Like what? Revenge of the Nerds?” I asked.

“Animal House and Old School,” Henri said. “We tried The Paper Chase because Dad loves it, but it put us to sleep.”

“Imagine that.” I pushed them toward the Welcome Center.

“Seriously, Libby, please,” said Mariah, worry creasing her pretty face.

“We have plans. There’s the Welcome Center and we’re going this way,” I said.

Mariah hurried off, not waiting for Jess.

“Have fun!” I called out.

“I will!”

Jess blocked the boys from following her and from the look on her exhausted face it would be best not to test her.

“Okay, Mom. What are these exciting plans?” Max asked as I tried to steer him down a different path.

“We’re having coffee with my friend Diane.”

That went over about as well as you’d expect. The boys thought they could be learning things, planning their future, and bothering Mariah. All those things were preferable to having coffee with anyone.

“There will be cookies,” I said.

“How many?” Henri asked.

“One. They’re big.”

“Two.”

“This is not negotiable,” I said. “We are going to the bookstore and that is final.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” Max asked. “Shopping!”

Off they went and I rolled my eyes. “I thought cookies would win the day.”

“You never know with them,” said Jess.

I thought she would head toward Mariah, who was eyeing us from the door of the Welcome Center, but she just stood there for a moment.

“I wish I knew why we’re here,” she said. “Do you think she secretly hates me and wants to go to college as far away as possible?”

“No, I don’t,” I said.

“I’m not so sure.”

“I am. Mariah loves you, me, and St. Seb. Maybe not so much the boys.”

“She loves them too. They’re just a lot sometimes,” said Jess. “But at least you know everything they’re thinking.”

I laughed. “They do not keep things to themselves. I wish they would.”

“No, you don’t.” Deep worry settled on Jess’ face.

“Mariah’s fine. She’s just checking this place out. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I wonder.”

Mariah started frantically waving and Jess hurried over to join her. I kept clear of the Welcome Center and went around it to go down the path to the Beebe Dam Bridge. It’d changed since we’d lived in Ithaca, but the view of the falls and the incredible noise of crashing water was the same. I thought I might find Virginia there or perhaps her professor, but I was alone.

There had been multiple suicides on the Cornell bridges. Everyone knew that, but nets had eventually been put up to prevent them. Too late for Virginia Cushing though. The nets didn’t happen until years later. Looking over into rushing water, I had to wonder why no one got serious about nets until the nineties.

“Hey, Mom!”

I turned and saw the boys smiling and coming down the path. A rush of love washed over me. They were such a pain, but I didn’t worry about things the way Jess did. I didn’t appreciate it and I really should.

“I thought you were ahead of me,” I said when they reached me.

“We got distracted,” said Henri with a rare look of worry on his face. “What’s wrong? You look funny.”

I hugged him. “Nothing. I’m just remembering.”

They watched my face and I could tell they didn’t really believe me, but cookies took priority. They got me going over the bridge toward the bookstore, but I took one more look back and nearly jumped out of my skin. He was there. Dr. Morris Miniver. He stood on the bridge, wearing a raincoat and a sorrowful look. He raised a hand and waved. Then he was gone.

The boys looked back.

“Was someone there?” Henri asked. “We’ve hardly seen any ghosts. You’d think a university would be chock full.”

“I thought I did,” I said.

“Who?” Max asked.

“Never mind. I need a peanut butter cookie so bad.”

“I need two,” said Henri.

“One,” I said.

“Two.”

“We are not negotiating.”

We laughed our way to the bookstore, but the sight of Dr. Miniver didn’t leave me. He wanted something. No doubt about that.

I met Diane when Derek was in law school. She was an undergrad working at the only diner in town where I used to get lunch and work on insurance claims. Diane was one of those students that fell in love with Ithaca and never left. She got her business degree and went into administration. Now she was an assistant dean and a connoisseur of peanut butter cookies. She recommended the big, fat, vegan ones and she knew what she was talking about, as always.

“Delicious,” I said, breaking off another bite while the boys started edging their way out of the bookstore cafe. “Where are you two going?”

“We’re done with cookies,” said Max. “Time to shop.”

“I’m not buying anything.”

“Nobody’s asking you to. We have money from our birthday parties. They’re pretty lucrative,” said Henri.

“Birthday parties?” Diane asked with a smile over the lip of her latte.

While I was momentarily distracted, Max and Henry dashed off, calling out, “See ya later!”

I sighed and Diane laughed. “They are carbon copies of Derek.”

“I thought I wanted that, but now I’m not so sure,” I said.

“They’re smart. I can always tell.”

“And they use it against me.”

She chuckled and took a sip. “I bet they’re fun.”

“They are. Never a dull moment.” I glanced around. “I hope they don’t do anything.”

“Like what?” Diane asked. “Even Derek couldn’t get up to anything on a Saturday morning. Everything is quiet. No parades to take over. No one is throwing a party or wanting to do anything but sleep.”

“You underestimate their ability to get into things.”

“We have security.”

“Hmm.”

“You worry me,” said Diane.

“We’ll see,” I said.

My friend reached across the table and touched my hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“I could kill Derek,” she said. “He must’ve lost his mind.”

“That pretty much covers it,” I said.

“How’s Jess?”

I took a sip of my coffee and thought it over. “I don’t know. That one day at a time thing is real.”

“Tell me everything,” said Diane.

“How much time do you have?”

“I have a lunch meeting at eleven forty-five.”

I smiled and we talked and talked. I didn’t know how much I needed it.

Chapter Six

Diane and I hugged in front of the bookstore and then she asked the question I’d been hoping she wouldn’t ask.

“So about that whole ghost thing?”

“Oh, yeah. That,” I said.

“Is it for real?” Diane asked, looking like I might require commitment.

“Seeing is believing.”

“And you’ve seen?”

I couldn’t quite make myself answer. Saying it in St. Seb was one thing. Even outside our little haunted hamlet, Missourians accepted that things went on in St. Seb and didn’t think anything about it. They just accepted.

“I believe you,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Libby, if you say it’s true. I believe you.”

I hugged her again. “Thanks. Oh, by the way, have you ever heard of a professor here called Dr. Morris Miniver?”

“No. What does he teach?”

“Law. Not sure what exactly.”

“He’s here now?” Diane asked.

I sucked in my lips.

“You mean…”

“He died in 1982,” I said.

“And you…”

“Yeah. Last night.”

“That is wild.” Diane looked around. “Is there anyone here?”

“Nope. Not that I can tell.”

She checked her phone. “Oh, crap. Look at the time. I have to go, but I’ll see if I can find out something about him. Dinner Sunday?”

“Absolutely.”

Diane rushed off to her meeting that she was definitely going to be late for. I waved and then checked my phone. The boys had messaged that they were exploring campus and I hoped that was all. Then I checked a campus map to make sure I knew where I was going. Cornell was huge and it was easy to forget what was in which building.

But I remembered correctly. Jess and Mariah were heading for Okenshields in Willard Straight Hall. It was always our favorite. The views were great and there was something about walking down the long staircase and seeing that view over the valley. It didn’t have the Tudor vibe of Risley with all the wood paneling and ornate ceiling, but I just loved Okenshields, named after Thorin Okenshield of The Hobbit. Derek made it a point to read The Hobbit in Okenshields, which seemed like something Max and Henri might do too.

“Libby!” Leo waved at me from a prime table next to the bank of windows, where Jess and Mariah were sitting with our turkey, Hambone roosting on the back of a chair.

I went over with my heart sinking. No one looked happy.

“Did you bring Hambone?” I asked, delaying the inevitable.

Gobble.

“She came of her own accord,” said Leo. “I can’t control the turkeys. I’m just lucky they tolerate me now.”

“I wish somebody controlled them. So what are you doing here?” I asked.

He glanced over and then said, “I hadn’t heard from you and I had a feeling that something was wrong.”

“Is something wrong?”

Mariah didn’t answer and Jess looked like she was biting her tongue. I couldn’t tell if she was trying not to laugh or cry.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Guess,” said Mariah.

I looked around for Max and Henri, but they weren’t there. “Did they do something?”

“They came on the tour.” She stabbed a fry viciously.

“Please tell me that’s not true.”

Leo and Jess nodded.

“They didn’t have reservations,” I said.

“Max and Henry don’t need reservations like normal people,” said Mariah. “They just joined the group.”

“Oh, I guess that’s possible. It’s not like there’s a guard or something. How bad was it?”

Her hands went into fists. “What do you think?”

“So really bad.”

Gobble.

Hambone looked angry, if you can imagine that in a turkey.

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

“Why didn’t you watch them?” Mariah asked.

“I didn’t think… I’m sorry. I should’ve kept them with me.”

Mariah was ready to spit nails and Leo said, “I think I know something that will make you feel better.”

“What?”

“Helping others⁠—”

“Hey,” a girl called out from across the dining room.

Mariah’s expression went from angry to horrified. “No. Please, no.”

Hambone gobbled and fluffed up in what I assumed was a protective stance, but it wasn’t necessary or effective. No one in Okenshields saw her, except us.

The girl came over, followed by a couple of friends. “Mariah, right?”

Hambone settled back down and preened. A good sign, I guess.

She nodded and Jess rallied. “I can’t believe you remember. There were a lot of names.”

“You two aren’t hard to remember. So glad I had you and your brothers on the tour today, Mariah. It was the best one I ever led. Seriously, great questions from you and they are so funny.”

“Yeah, they’re something,” said Mariah, not sure what to do.

“Hi.” The girl extended her hand to me. “I’m Molly. This is Kelly and Ava.”

I laughed. “We know Ava.”

“No way,” said Molly.

“They were at the concert last night,” said Ava. “My most memorable concert ever,” said Ava. “Molly’s a chimesmaster too.”

I shook Kelly’s and Molly’s hands. “I’m Libby. Max and Henri’s mom. They aren’t actually Mariah’s brothers. They just like to…pester her.”

“Oh, my god. I totally thought they were your brothers,” said Molly. “They really know how to engage people. The whole group was great. That one dad, Mark, so funny. Even the moms were fun.”

That doesn’t say much for moms.

Jess nodded. “It was our crew from last night at Crazy Mike’s.”

The students started laughing.

“That was you guys at Crazy Mike’s?” Kelly asked. “I thought they hired actors and influencers. Twitter’s going crazy.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

They showed us their phones and the Crazy Mike’s party was trending with a bunch of nutty hashtags. For once, it wasn’t Max and Henri’s doing. We were all mentioned and St. Seb was named as the country’s most haunted hamlet. Even Mariah started smiling at the videos of line dancing and Susan imitating Beyoncé.

Leo came to me. “Ask about the girl in the bar.”

I glanced around, puzzled.

“Far right.” He pointed at a table where a girl sat alone, hunched over her phone and eating a sandwich. It was the glum waitress from Crazy Mike’s, the only one who didn’t enjoy the night—or anything—it seemed.

“Ask them about her,” said Leo.

“Um… hey there’s the waitress from the bar,” I said rather lamely.

The girls looked over and then quickly averted their gaze.

“Oh, yeah,” said Ava. “She didn’t like us.”

“She doesn’t like anyone,” said Kelly.

“How do you know?” Mariah asked after she saw Leo smiling approvingly.

Kelly crossed her arms. “I have developmental psych with her. She won’t talk to anyone. She was in my group for a project and she was kinda mean. Now she does everything by herself.”

A pang went through me. Alone wasn’t good.

“Ask about why,” Leo said.

“Why?” Mariah asked.

The girls frowned.

“Why what?” Kelly asked.

“Why is she mean?” I asked.

That stumped them. They’d never given the why a moment’s thought and they weren’t going to ask. Once bitten, twice shy. I couldn’t blame them. That’s how most people reacted to unhappiness, but most people didn’t have an intuitive ghost for guidance.

“I don’t know,” said Kelly. “I don’t think I care. Class is hard enough without dealing with that.”

“Dealing with what?” Jess asked.

Kelly looked a little embarrassed, but she went ahead and said what she was thinking. “Jordyn’s like a dark cloud. You can feel her entering the room before you see her.” She shivered. “I don’t know what her deal is.”

“Weird,” said Ava. “I can’t imagine having Con Law with that sitting next to me.”

“Maybe we should do something,” said Molly.

“Do what?” Kelly asked. “Get our heads bitten off? No, thanks.”

Molly glanced over at Jordyn, who looked up, saw us looking at her, and then hunched over so far her nose was practically touching her sandwich.

“That’s not normal,” said Ava.

“Maybe it is,” said Leo.

“I know who is normal,” said Molly. “Mr. Alvarez over there. Mariah, you have to meet him.”

Mariah might’ve hunched over and tried to disappear if the girls hadn’t been looking at her with joyful faces. “Well, I…”

“Seriously,” said Molly. “He’s on the admissions committee.”

Mariah drew back. “I don’t think so.”

Molly took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “This is your chance. He’s great and nice. You should get some face time. I’m totally going to tell him about the tour. It was so great.”

“Mom?” Mariah’s eyes pleaded with Jess and I could see that the last thing Jess wanted was another in with Cornell, but she was an awesome mom.

“You should go,” said Jess. “These kinds of opportunities don’t happen every day.”

“Just say hello,” said Ava. “You have to go here and he can help.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Molly took Mariah off to the table, with Hambone following along, where a man in his early forties was talking to several women who looked like professors or administration to me. The group looked up with smiles and then offered seats.

“And the hits just keep on coming,” said Jess, starting to hunch herself.

“You don’t need to worry,” said Leo.

“What do you know?” I asked.

“Nothing that you don’t,” he said. “But Mariah is sensible. She will do what is best for her and she knows what that is.”

“Maybe it’s going here,” said Jess with misery in her voice.

“And maybe it isn’t. She’s still grieving and no decisions will happen for almost another year.”

Jess picked at the salad in front of her. “I guess.”

“Helping others helps.”

I shook my head. “Mariah shouldn’t have to help us. We’re supposed to help her.”

Leo smiled. “I agree, but I wasn’t talking about either of you. I was talking about Jordyn. She’s grieving too.”

Mariah returned to the table, the tension gone from her shoulders. “He was nice and I think he liked me.”

Hambone flew back up to her chair and gobbled happily in agreement.

“Of course he did,” said Leo. “Everyone likes you, which is more than I can say about Jordyn.”

Mariah made a face. “Do I have to?”

“Have to what?” Jess asked.

“Reach out to her. She’s feeling the way you feel,” said Leo.

I nodded. “Oh, yeah. You said that last night, Mariah. You already knew she was grieving.”

Mariah touched the back of her chair and toyed with the idea of sitting back down. “Maybe she’s just tired from last night.”

“That’s not it,” said Leo.

“Are you sure?”

Jess took Mariah’s hand. “Leo always knows and it sounds like you do too. I’ll go with you, if that will help.”

Mariah blew out a breath. “This was supposed to be a quiet weekend. See campus. Nothing weird.”

“Weird is our specialty,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “Come on, Mom. Let’s do it.”

Jess and Mariah went over to Jordyn, who couldn’t have been less friendly or more horrified at their approach.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I whispered to Leo.

“I’m sure. It’s her mother. She lost her mother. Now back to taxes with Eric.” He popped out and I stole one of Mariah’s fries. The boys still weren’t answering my texts and I was getting a little worried when I heard a kid behind me say, “They must have a new chimes schedule.”

I stole another fry while watching Jess and Mariah sit down with the unwilling Jordyn.

“New song list too,” said another boy.

“A guy made the list for sure.”

“What makes you say that?” a girl asked.

I chewed and watched Jordyn’s expression grow curious, which was a vast improvement.

“Because no girl is going to play that song,” said the boy.

“That is so sexist,” said the girl. “Women like all kinds of music.”

“When’s the last time you watched a spaghetti Western?”

What now?

“That term is racist,” the girl sniffed.

“Against what? Westerns shot in Italy?”

No. No. Please no.

I turned in my seat and asked, “What song are they playing?”

The kids looked at me, irritated that I was listening.

“Nothing,” they said.

I stood up. “What song was it?”

The girl glanced around at the boys, who crossed their arms. “I don’t know what the song is called.” She eyed them. “They probably don’t know either.”

“It’s the same as the movie,” said one of the boys. “Everyone knows that.”

“The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

The girl looked at them in triumph. “See! She knows it.”

“They’re playing the theme from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly right now?” I asked.

The kids nodded. I grabbed my purse and ran for the exit. McGraw Tower. I ran there with the sound of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly echoing across campus.

It might not. It might not.

I burst through the doors as the last notes faded away and found two security guards and a university official standing at the tower entrance, trying frantically to get in.

“Who’s in there?” I asked.

“We don’t know,” said the official, her voice in a panic. “We can’t scan in.”

“They don’t sound like vandals,” said one of the security guards.

“What do vandals sound like?” she asked.

No one had an answer to that.

“We have to get in. The chimes are a precious part of⁠—”

There was a click and the light on the door lock turned green. The official whipped open the door and we all ran up the circular staircase, huffing and puffing.

I’d almost talked myself out of it by the time I reached the top, but it was them. Max and Henri were standing at the chimes, discussing the next song to play. They looked surprised and pleased when we came running in.

“Hey, Mom,” said Max. “What’s poppin’?”

“Who are you?” the official asked and she bent over to catch her breath.

The boys introduced themselves politely and shook hands with the guards and the official, momentarily stunning them.

“Looks fine,” said a guard to the official. “No damage.”

The Eggs glanced around. “Damage? Why would there be damage?”

“You can’t be in here,” said a guard. “No one is allowed in here except chimesmasters.”

“You didn’t like the song?” Henri asked. “We thought we nailed it.”

“That’s not the point,” I said.

“You know them?” the official asked.

I hesitated before saying yes. It was one of the rare times when I wasn’t thrilled to claim my offspring.

“How did they get in here?” she asked.

I looked at the boys. They shrugged and said it wasn’t hard. The guards disagreed. It was hard. So hard they couldn’t get in and they had the passkeys.

“It was open,” said Max.

The official pointed at them. “It was not open.”

“How’d we get in then?” Henri asked.

She sputtered and the guards smiled.

“We didn’t do anything wrong,” said Max. “We played The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. That’s it.”

The official took a deep breath and said, “That’s it? You broke in.”

“It was open.”

“That tower door was not open,” she said. “This was breaking and entering.”

Then the boys took on a stance and expression that I recognized. Derek might as well have been in that tower.

“You will have to prove that the door wasn’t open and you can’t because it was,” said Max.

“We cannot be held liable for your lapses in security. Furthermore, the sign does not forbid entering the tower when the door is open, which it clearly was.”

“They’ve got you there,” said one of the guards with a growing grin.

“It does forbid it,” she said.

I sighed. “It says don’t enter when the door is closed.”

“Closed and open are very different,” said Max. “We entered through an open door.”

“The tower was clearly meant to be accessible,” said Henri.

The official’s face turned red. “You know what that means.”

“What you meant doesn’t count,” said Max. “What was stated on the sign does.”

“They look a little young for law school,” said a guard.

“They are,” I said, “but their father is a lawyer and he was a chimesmaster here. Dad’s going to hear about this.”

The Eggs grinned at me. “We recorded the concert and sent it to him.”

“What did your father say?” the official asked.

“He requested ‘The Ecstasy of Gold,’” said Henri.

She threw up her hands. “I can’t even…”

“I feel that way all the time,” I said. “Can we go? This won’t happen again.”

“Unless the door is open,” said Max.

I grabbed his arm and pushed them both toward the stairs. “Not helping.”

“We’re right and you know it,” said Henri.

“I don’t know anything,” I said. “Get going.”

The official sputtered and the guards conferred for a moment.

“Look. There’s no harm done,” said one.

“It’s a prank and a good one too. The kind that students love,” said the other. “Just don’t do it again.”

The boys grinned.

“Seriously.”

I pointed down the stairs. “Go. Now.”

“But Dad⁠—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” I apologized and got them down the stairs, listening to the guards having a spirited discussion about good-natured lawbreaking, which they didn’t seem to have much of a problem with. The official wasn’t of the same mind and I got the boys out of the building before she could chase us down.

“I can’t believe you two,” I said.

“Sure you can,” said Henri.

“Did you hear it?” Max asked. “Were we good or what?”

“Or what?” I pushed them toward Willard Straight Hall. “You two are the worst. This is Mariah’s weekend. You intrude on her tour and⁠—”

The boys turned around.

“Hold on, Mom,” said Max. “We saved the tour.”

“Oh, really?”

Henri nodded. “Yeah, it was a real dud.”

The boys told their version of events. They were walking around campus and ran across Mariah’s tour, which was filled with glum parents and kids. Molly was asking questions. No one was answering. She looked miserable. Mark kept yawning. Josh was trying to escape. It was the worst so the boys decided to save it. They blended in and started asking questions as only they could.

“It was better, I swear,” said Max. “We fixed it.”

“Nobody asked you to fix it,” I said, getting them moving again.

“If you’d have seen how sad Jess and Mariah looked on that bummer tour, you’d know that it was right,” said Henri. “They liked it. Everyone liked it. The guide, her name’s Molly, she wants us to apply. She totally loved Mariah, Josh, Olivia, and Isabel. The admissions talk was awesome.”

I gritted my teeth and said, “You can’t always count on it working out that way.”

“Why not?” Max asked.

“I don’t know. I’m tired.”

“We’re starving. Are we going to get food?” Henri asked. “We need food.”

I got them down into Okenshields and they started talking about reading The Hobbit on their phones because you had to read The Hobbit in Okenshields, obviously. I gave them some cash and they went off to get burgers. Then I scanned the room and was surprised to find Jess and Mariah still with Jordyn, who was considerably less miserable. Hambone was standing next to her and trying to bite her shoestrings without success.

“I’m exhausted,” I said, plopping down next to Jess.

“What did they do?” Mariah asked.

“Maybe they didn’t do anything,” said Jess with a smile.

“Please, Mom. When Libby runs out like that, you know Max and Henri did something,” said Mariah. “Did they take over an opera and start singing the leads?”

“No.”

“Did they start teaching ballet because a teacher didn’t know how to stop them?”

“No.”

Jordyn eyed us. “That’s not really possible.”

Mariah held up her phone and played the video of The Eggs taking over the assembly on their first day at school in St. Seb. “You can’t underestimate them.”

“So they really do that stuff?” Jordyn asked.

“They do,” I said and I told them about the chimes concert. After considerable laughter from Jess and Mariah, Jordyn smiled. They asked how I would stop them from doing it again.

“Prayer,” I said.

“How’s that worked in the past?” Jess asked.

“I’d rather not talk about it. What are you all doing? Discussing Crazy Mike’s?”

“Something much better,” said Mariah. “Jordyn knows about Virginia Cushing.”

My mouth fell open, getting some more laughter. It turned out that Jordyn was an avid podcast listener, mostly true crime, and there was a podcaster that had discussed Virginia’s mysterious death. Her name was Donna the Mistress of Death aka Donna D’Angelo. Donna had promised to investigate what she called a cold case, but no podcast on the subject had happened yet.

“She thinks it was a murder?” I asked.

Jordyn nodded. “She thinks a professor did it.”

“Dr. Miniver,” said Mariah. “Can you believe that?”

“You still haven’t told me how you know about the case,” said Jordyn.

We looked at each other and I didn’t know what to say.

“I’ve seen Max and Henri’s TikToks and stuff.”

“They are entertaining,” I said.

Jordyn eyed us. “The stuff about the ghosts in your town is interesting.”

“It is,” said Jess.

“Do you think your house is haunted?” There was a challenge to her voice and Mariah decided to meet it.

“Number Eight is haunted,” said Mariah with a glance at Hambone, who was gobbling away.

Jordyn shifted in her seat to face her. “You believe in ghosts?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice.”

Gobble.

“There’s no such thing,” said Jordyn crossing her arms.

Angry gobble.

“How do you know?” Mariah asked.

The girl who Leo wanted us to talk to let her voice go deep and emotional. “Because people die and they’re just gone.”

“Sometimes,” said Jess.

“All the time.”

Mariah shook her head. “Nope. Not all the time.”

“Prove it.”

“We can’t if you don’t believe,” said Jess.

Jordyn crossed her arms. “There you go.”

“I can prove it,” said Mariah.

Jess and I looked at her. I had no clue where Mariah was going with this. She could call the trappers and stink out Okenshields, but I didn’t think that would necessarily prove anything. Jordyn would probably think the sewer had backed up.

“Mariah, if she doesn’t believe, you should understand that,” I said.

“Leo wanted us to help her,” said Mariah.

“Who’s Leo?” Jordyn asked.

We explained who Leo was and the girl grew more skeptical, not less. “So you gave him a name. So what?”

“He told us that you’re grieving,” said Mariah. “He wanted me to reach out to you because I understand.”

“You don’t… I’m not grieving anything.”

“Leo always knows,” I said. “He’s never wrong with grief.”

Jordyn looked over at me defiantly. “Then who am I grieving?”

“Your mother.”

She jumped to her feet. “You couldn’t possibly know that.”

Mariah stood up. “You’re right. We couldn’t, but Leo could.”

Jordyn didn’t say another word and dashed for the exit nearly knocking Max and Henri over.

I gave Mariah our card and told her to go after Jordyn. She looked unsure.

“Leo would want you to,” said Jess and Mariah ran after her, catching the girl as she attempted to get through a crowd coming down the stairs. Jordyn tried to get away, but Mariah was persistent. I heard her say something about her dad and Jordyn stopped. The girls spoke for a moment and Mariah gave her our card. Jordyn looked back at us, her face so grieved that I questioned whether we should’ve left well enough alone. Then she went up the stairs and Mariah returned to the table.

“What was that all about?” Henri asked.

“She was upset,” said Max. “Did we do it?”

“Good guess,” said Mariah. “But not this time.”

“What did you say to her?” I asked.

“I told her about my dad and she seemed okay.”

“Cool. Here’s some pie. Your favorite.” Henri gave her a slice of cherry pie.

She wrinkled her nose. “They didn’t have any pie. I looked.”

“We might’ve chatted up the server and told him that we were idiots and stupid,” said Max.

“Accurate,” said Mariah. “And he had pie?”

“He did. It was for the dinner menu, but he made an exception for you,” said Henri. “We’re sorry we do things and stuff like that.”

“I’m still mad.”

That was the moment that Mr. Alvarez chose to come over. “Please excuse me. Mariah, I forgot to give you my card. When it’s time for you to apply, please contact me and we’ll talk about your options.”

Mariah took the card and Mr. Alvarez left.

Max crossed his arms. “You were saying?”

“Never mind. You make it impossible to hate you,” she said.

They grinned at her.

“Don’t worry. We’ll keep trying.”

“Please don’t.”

They shrugged and dug into their lunches.

“What’s next?” Henri asked. “The Dairy Bar?”

Mariah finished her pie and gave him a challenging look. “The Uris Library.”

She was spoiling for a fight, but she didn’t get one.

“Okay. Cool.”

Mariah may have been disappointed, but she had the grace not to show it. Then a couple of students came over and held out their phones. “Is this you?”

It was the video from the tower. Derek had posted it. Next thing I knew the entirety of Okenshields was playing the video, laughing, and placing bets on when they would do it again.

Mariah sighed. “Max and Henri. Already legends.”

“All done. Let’s go to the library,” said Max.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean it’s your trip,” said Henri.

The boys put away their trays and Jess said, “Do they even get the irony?”

I watched them doing the Robot by the exit. “I seriously doubt it.”

Chapter Seven

McGraw Tower was attached to the same building as my favorite library. I didn’t want to walk by the scene of the crime, but it was the simplest way to get there and there were no fingers pointed at us, which was a relief.

We walked around it and the kids posed under the hefty chandelier in front of the huge stone arch with gold leaf around a portrait of someone. I took pictures while Jess messaged the podcaster. What can I say? We were curious about her and her theories about Virginia Cushing’s death. Talk about a wrong move.

After pictures, I led the way in through the impressive antechamber filled with a staircase and arches, and was all glowy and bathed in yellow light. I explained that the library had a design resembling a cruciform, like a cathedral. Maybe that’s why it felt so peaceful. The kids walked in on the thick red carpet, saw the incredible details and started smiling. Any angry thoughts Mariah may have had must’ve vanished from her mind. Her lovely smile was back.

“The pictures aren’t as good,” she whispered to me.

“I know.”

Gobble. Gobble.

Hambone flew up to the second level and roosted on a railing. Turkeys could fly a lot better than I ever thought. At least the dead ones could. Max and Henri immediately went exploring the decorative stacks made of burnished metal with curly cues on the supporting arches and on the catwalks that extended over what I called the nave.

“It looks like it’s full of secrets.” Mariah smiled and then looked up at the three stories.

“It is,” I said. “All libraries are.”

“Libby?”

I turned around and saw a tiny woman—about the size of a fourth grader—looking at me from behind thick glasses.

“Mrs. Smythe?” I asked.

“You remember,” she said. “Welcome back.”

I hugged her and introduced the librarian, Mrs. Andrea Smythe to Mariah and Jess. I never thought she’d still be there and looking exactly the same. For a moment, I thought she might not actually be there. Instead, she was haunting her favorite place on campus, but she was very much alive.

The librarian ushered us over to an empty section with books on architecture. “Are you here for a reunion?”

“I never went to Cornell,” I said.

“Neither did I, but I’m a part of it anyway.” She smiled. “Like you.”

I told her about Mariah’s tour and that my boys were exploring. She insisted on taking us up to the second floor where my spot was, a desk with a perfect view.

“You married Derek Forest?” Mrs. Smythe asked.

“I did. I’m Libby Forest.”

“He was a devil, that one.”

The boys emerged, seemingly out of nowhere, and Henri asked, “Are you talking about Dad?”

“Oh, you are your father’s sons,” she said and launched into whispered tales of Derek sneaking in burritos and beer. The time I was mad at him, for some reason, and hiding out while I cooled down, prompting Derek to come into the library and serenade me in Italian like a gondolier. We had games of hide and seek just before closing with McCloud, whoever he was dating, and our other friends deep in the basement stacks of the law library. They were quiet games. If you made a noise, you lost. Mrs. Smythe kicked us out so many times, but she always let us back in.

“You got kicked out of this library?” Max asked in astonishment.

“They got kicked out of every library on campus, including mathematics. What they were doing in there I couldn’t tell you,” whispered Mrs. Smythe.

“I bet it was a drinking game,” said Mariah.

Everyone looked at me.

“I wasn’t there, but it was a drinking game.”

The kids stifled their laughter and went off to do some more exploring.

“It’s so lovely to see you,” said Mrs. Smythe, “but I must get going.”

“Do you have just a minute?” I whispered, leaning back on the desk.

She nodded. “Yes. What can I do for you?”

“Have you ever heard of a law professor named Dr. Morris Miniver?”

“Why do you ask?” Mrs. Smythe asked with a deep frown. I hadn’t seen that look since the last burrito incident.

“Um, Jess and I do a little investigating on the side and⁠—”

“Let me stop you right there. This university is safe and we have very little crime.”

Jess and I exchanged glances. What in the world?

“I know,” I said. “Did something happen?”

Mrs. Smythe pulled out her phone and held it out to me. “I hope this isn’t your doing.”

There, on the librarian’s Instagram, was a hashtag I never saw coming. MurderIvy.

“That’s not us,” I said. “What is it about?”

“Someone started talking about investigators coming to Ithaca and looking into the unsolved murders,” she said. “We do not need that kind of publicity.”

“How many unsolved murders do you have?” Jess asked.

“A few and they’re making the most out of that serial killer, but he happened before there was even a university.”

“It’s not us.” I went past Mrs. Smythe and waved to the boys up on one of the catwalks. They hurried down and I asked them.

“We saw it, Mom, but it’s not us,” said Max. “We’d own it if we did it.”

“Cornell slaps,” said Henri. “We don’t want it to be MurderIvy.”

“It couldn’t be Mariah,” said Jess and Mariah peeked around her shoulder.

“What couldn’t I do?”

We told her and her face got funny.

“You didn’t,” I said.

She shook her head. “I didn’t do that hashtag, but people know about you and your cases. Some kids at Crazy Mike’s asked me if you were here to investigate anything. I said no, but I don’t think they believed me. They started talking about some poor guy that got stabbed on campus and some other guy got kidnapped in town.”

Jess’ phone dinged and she checked it. “It’s her. The podcaster.”

“What did she say?”

Jess looked at the top of the stacks that were topped with curved horns. “She wants to talk to us about her upcoming podcast.”

“MurderIvy,” whispered the boys together.

“Right, but she’s sounds a little…off.”

“She is.” Mrs. Smythe grimaced. “That woman has been rooting around here, trying to find dirt any which way she can. Don’t tell her anything.”

Mariah held up her phone. “Her first episode is going to be about how Dr. Miniver killed Virginia Cushing.”

“Who?” asked Max and Henri.

I shushed them and told them to go check out the rest of the library. They took a reluctant Mariah with them and then Mrs. Smythe said, “That can’t happen. A professor would never kill a student.”

Dr. Schramm killed his student Christine, but it wasn’t a good time to point that out.

“We’re so sorry that podcaster is causing a problem,” I said.

“That’s what she does,” said Mrs. Smythe. “Miss Cushing wasn’t even a crime. It was suicide. Are you blaming Dr. Miniver?”

“Not at all,” said Jess.

“Then why were you asking about him?”

There was a pop and Dr. Morris Miniver appeared behind her.

“Um… just curious,” I said and I turned her around. “We hate to keep you, Mrs. Smythe.”

“Do not encourage this idiocy,” she whispered. “The deposit deadlines are coming up. So much work has gone into choosing the right students for all the programs, not just undergrad.”

“It will blow over,” said Jess. “No one will even care tomorrow.”

“I hope you’re right.” The librarian hurried off down the narrow aisle and we turned to face Dr. Morris Miniver.

“You can see me?” Dr. Miniver asked after a couple of tense minutes.

“Sure,” said Jess as we tucked ourselves and our talking to thin air into a cubby.

“You really see me?”

“Um… yeah,” I said. “You sound surprised.”

The ghost started pacing back and forth. He appeared to be about thirty and was wearing a brown corduroy suit with wide lapels. His hair was thick, but he had it combed over like it wasn’t. “Unbelievable. Why now?”

My phone dinged. Mariah lost the boys. She thought they might’ve gone for ice cream.

“Well, I have to go before Max and Henri⁠—”

The ghost held up his hands. “No, you can’t leave. It might never happen again.”

“What might not?” Jess asked.

“You see me,” he said with an almost manic intensity.

“We know. We’re talking to you.”

He drew himself up to his full height of about five eight. “Well, it’s new for me.”

“You’ve never been seen before?” I asked.

“No, and I’ve tried. Everyone else can be seen, but not me.”

“Who is everyone?”

“My students. Other professors. Some staff. Random dead people that come to campus. They all get seen, maybe not a lot, but it has happened for them,” he said in a rush. “And I can’t do anything. Nothing at all.”

“What do you want to do?” Jess asked.

“Some can close doors. Make noise or smells. I can’t do anything. What’s wrong with me?” Dr. Miniver asked.

“We don’t have any answers,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“You have to help me. I’ve been trying since I died and nothing. I’m useless.”

I checked my phone and then texted the boys. Nothing. Not a good sign.

“Jess, we have got to find Max and Henri,” I said.

That’s when I heard the sound of people moving in mass. I passed Dr. Miniver and looked over the railing to see students getting up and leaving the library, whispering excitedly.

“Something’s going on.”

Jess paled. “They wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t they?”

We started down the aisle, heading for the nearest catwalk. Behind us, Dr. Miniver yelled, “I know he killed her! I just couldn’t prove it!”

I turned and asked, “Who?”

“Virginia. That woman podcaster thing is right. She was murdered, but I didn’t do it,” he said, his eyes pleading. “I know that’s why I’m still here. I should’ve known it would happen. I should’ve protected her.”

I pointed at him. “We will deal with that later. Right now, the tower.”

Jess and I hurried out as fast as we could without running. As soon as we got outside, we ran into a crowd and Mariah with her arms crossed. Hambone was gobbling like crazy and pecking at every ankle close to her. The chimes were going and it was “The Ecstasy of Gold.” I hung my head. Why? I didn’t drop them on their heads. Why would they do it?

We ran through the crowd and went in through the arched doors to find my old friend, the angry official, standing with the two guards.

“You said they wouldn’t do it again,” she said, shaking a finger at me.

“It might not be Max and Henri,” said Jess.

“I don’t know who you are, but it’s definitely those boys.” She shook the handle on the door. “This was not open!”

Mariah came in with Hambone in tow. “How did they get in then?”

“I don’t know!” She turned to the guards. “Open this door.”

The men’s lips were twitching and they wanted to smile so badly.

“We can’t. The lock isn’t functioning again,” said one.

The official glared at me. “Are they some kind of hackers?”

Mariah laughed.

“It is not funny, young lady,” she said.

“They aren’t hackers,” I said. “Not any more than any other kids that grew up with tech at their fingertips.”

“How are they getting in?”

The whole group shrugged and the song ended. I looked for the red light on the door to turn green, but it didn’t.

“Do you smell something?” Mariah asked.

“Smoke!” The official started shoving us toward the door. “They’ve set the tower on fire.”

“I don’t think so,” said one of the guards.

“They’d get flame-broiled,” said the other.

“Those boys are clearly insane!” she yelled.

I was going to defend them, but just then smoke started billowing out of the cracks around the door and when I say billowing, that does not do it justice. I’d seen bonfires with less smoke. People started screaming and we ran outside. My heart was pounding. I spun around in a circle. I couldn’t get to them. No one could get to them.

Jess grabbed me and forced me to look up at the tower. “I don’t know what that is, but it’s not a fire.”

I wasn’t sure I agreed, but what we were seeing wasn’t right. Massive coils of black smoke rose out of McGraw Tower, looking like soft serve ice cream cones.

“That’s not normal,” said Mariah. “Leo! We need you!”

I held my breath and then Leo popped in beside me, looking up. “That’s some talent. Mine wasn’t so nice.”

“What’s going on?” I asked him.

“The boys are fine,” he said. “I checked.”

“Where are they?”

“Up there being them.”

I blew out a breath. “What should we do?”

Leo smiled and a comforting warmth flowed over me. “My advice is nothing. Let The Eggs be The Eggs.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, but I nodded.

“You can always call me if you need me. I’ll be with Eric. Taxes wait for no man.” He popped out as quick as he came.

I sagged against Jess. She and Mariah had to hold me up as smoke filled the arched entryway and then billowed out, filling the courtyard.

Everyone around us was filming. Sirens blared as the fire department came to life. We backed up as the smoke rolled across the sidewalk. It pushed us into the road and then across it.

Then, as quickly as it began, it stopped. The smoke sucked back into the tower as if pulled by a giant vacuum, leaving the crowd freaking out and screaming. I ran across the street and burst through the doors. Jess, the security guys, and the angry official were right behind me.

I yanked on the door. “It’s still locked.”

The official shoved me out of the way and pounded on the door. “Come out, you little hooligans!”

“Hold on,” said a guard. “Let’s try again.”

He scanned his card and the light turned green. The official shoved him out of the way and ran through the door. A guard followed her and I went to go too, but the other guard held me back.

“Not this time, ladies,” he said.

I held my breath, fearing she might pummel Max and Henri, but all I heard was a scream of frustration. A couple of minutes later, she and the guard came back through the door, panting.

“Not there,” said the guard.

“Who did it?” Jess asked.

The official bent over, trying to catch her breath. “Them. Had to be them.”

“Hey there. Whatcha doin’?”

We turned around and The Eggs at their smiling eggy best came down the hall.

“You!” yelled the official.

“Us?” Henri asked, looking around confused. “What’d we do?”

“You… you…” She was incoherent with rage, sputtering and pointing at the door.

“Where have you been?” Jess asked.

“Checking out campus,” said Max. “Why?”

Just then, firefighters came through the doors. They were in full gear, but not exactly in a hurry.

“Alright,” said the first one. “Who called us? We do not appreciate pranks.”

“It’s not a prank,” said the official. “There was smoke and a fire.”

The firefighters didn’t look convinced or happy, but they trudged up the tower and came back down, looking considerably less charitable.

“Ma’am, there is no evidence of a fire recently or ever. No traces of smoke, heat, or combustible materials.”

“There was. I saw it,” she said. “We all saw it.”

The firefighters looked at us and we all shrugged.

“Unbelievable. There will be a report.” The firefighters left, crossing paths with Mariah and Hambone.

“Hey, Moon over my Hammy,” said Henri. “What are you doing here?”

Gobble.

The guards chuckled at Mariah, who rolled her eyes. “I’m Mariah.”

“Everyone gets a crappy nickname at some point,” said a guard.

“Whatever. Can we go get ice cream or something? We’ve already been up the tower. I’m over it,” said Mariah.

The official crossed her arms. “You can do whatever you want. Those two boys are under arrest.”

“For what?” I asked. “You know they didn’t do it. They weren’t in the tower.”

“They got out during the smoke.”

“What smoke?” Jess asked and the guards laughed.

“There was smoke and a fire,” she persisted.

People started coming in and asking what in the world was going on. Was it a light show? Some kind of awesome laser program? Why didn’t it show up on camera?

“What?” asked the official. “It has to be on film. Everyone was filming.”

Mariah got out her phone and played a video of the tower while the song was playing. Plenty of screaming but no smoke. Zero.

“Someone else,” said the official. “You know them. You doctored it.”

She looked at five more phones and the video evidence was conclusive. The guards happily washed their hands of the whole incident, not wishing to seem like they were insane. The tower door was locked and they left.

“But I saw it,” said the official and everyone agreed that they did too.

“I didn’t see anything,” said Max.

“It happened!” she yelled.

Mariah sniffed. “I don’t smell smoke and the firefighters said no.”

The official pointed at Max and Henri. “You played the chimes.”

The boys widened their eyes.

“Someone played the chimes?” Henri asked. “Who?”

“What did they play?” Max asked.

“Some Western song,” said the official.

“‘The Ecstasy of Gold’,” said a man in the crowd. “Sounded great.”

“We didn’t do it,” said Max.

The official pointed at them with a shaking hand. “I know you did.”

I put my arms around my little criminals. “They weren’t in the tower. You checked.”

Hambone started gobbling and Henri said, “What’s up, Hamster?”

There was a pop and Dr. Miniver stood at the edge of the group, looking a tad shaken.

“Oh,” said the boys. “You’re new.”

The group looked where they were looking and I quickly said, “Time to go.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” said the official.

Mrs. Smythe walked in carrying a heavy-duty clipboard. “Oh, Josephine, you know they don’t mean any harm.”

The official crossed her arms. “I don’t know that.”

“Engineers, even budding ones, have to try things out,” said Mrs. Smythe. “It’s just an AI generated light show.”

“AI,” said Mariah. “That’s so cool.”

Mrs. Smythe took Josephine’s arm and led her away with the promise of double fudge brownies. She winked over her shoulder at us and I blew her a kiss.

The rest of the onlookers glommed onto the AI idea and we slipped away into the main part of the building until we got to a little alcove set into the thick walls. Inside the archway was a large fireplace under a stone mantel with two wooden pews facing each other on either side.

Jess went in and collapsed onto the right pew. “I’m resting. Nobody better make me move.”

Mariah sat beside her and Hambone jumped up on the narrow bench that was in front of the fireplace, settling down for a long stay.

I sat on the left bench and the boys draped themselves over me, claiming exhaustion. Dr. Miniver had followed us, but he stood back a safe distance.

“You’re exhausted because you’re working so hard to keep me out of Cornell,” said Mariah.

“We’re not ruining anything,” said Henri. “That was cool.”

“You admit you did it.”

The boys stretched out, put their hands behind their heads, and crossed their ankles.

“We can’t make smoke,” said Max. “Get real.”

“That’s true, but I bet you know who did,” said Mariah.

“Maybe your new friend did it,” said Henri with a look at the astonished Dr. Miniver.

“Me? I can’t do anything. That’s the problem,” he said.

“Who did it then?” Mariah asked.

The boys shrugged and Max said, “Who cares? We fixed it.”

“Fixed what?” I asked.

“MurderIvy. Everyone’s going to be talking about the tower,” said Henri.

Jess put her head in her hands. “That’s your fix?”

“Anyone got a better idea?” Max asked. “No? I didn’t think so.”

Henri looked over at the professor. “Hi. Since no one introduced us, I’ll do the honors. I’m Henri. That’s Max and my mom, Libby. Over there are Jess and Mariah. In the middle is Hambone, Mariah’s turk.”

“She is not my turkey,” said Mariah.

Angry gobble.

“Hammibal Lecter, are you Mariah’s turk?” Max asked.

Gobble. Gobble.

“You have it straight from the turkey’s mouth,” said Henri.

“I can’t have a pet turkey,” said Mariah. “That’s not cool.”

Angry gobble.

“Sorry.”

Hambone flew over and landed on Mariah’s knee, making soft gobbles. Mariah made a face. “That’s just great. I have a turkey. She’ll probably come to school with me.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” said Henri.

“Like you’d want to take a turkey to college.”

“I’d rather have a rhino.”

“‘Cause that’s practical,” said Mariah.

“There’s nothing practical about ghosts.” Max turned to Dr. Miniver, who remained astonished. “And you are?”

His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“That is Dr. Morris Miniver,” I said. “Law professor. Dead in 1982. He has a request.”

We all looked at the professor and he gathered himself together before saying, “You aren’t scared?”

Jess looked up sharply. “Should we be?”

“No, no. I just… that’s a turkey and there was smoke and I’m not alive,” he said.

Max yawned and Henri said, “Yeah, we’re used to it.”

“I’m starving,” said Max. “Ice cream anyone?”

“Hold on,” I said. “Dr. Miniver, what were you saying about Virginia?”

He walked over and stood just under the alcove. “I’d like your help, but I heard that you get paid to do…whatever it is that you do.”

I propped my feet up on the bench. “Let’s call it pro bono. What do you need?”

The professor clasped his hands together to stop them from shaking. “First of all, I didn’t kill her.”

“We know,” said Mariah. “Why don’t you make a chair and sit a while?”

“How did you know I can make things?”

A big nest made of sticks and leaves appeared on Mariah’s lap under Hambone. The turkey spun around a couple of times and then settled down to preen.

“Fantastic,” Mariah said.

“All ghosts can conjure whatever they owned in life,” I said.

“You’re well versed,” said Dr. Miniver.

“We’re experienced,” said Jess.

An office chair popped up behind the professor and he sat down. “I didn’t kill Virginia. I was in Canada with my wife when it happened.”

“Who’s Virginia?” Max asked.

We all looked expectantly at the professor and he took a deep breath before he told his story.

Chapter Eight

Dr. Miniver had been teaching at the law school for nearly a decade before he met Virginia Cushing during her first year. She was in his con law class and he described her as bright but shy. Virginia went by Ginny and Dr. Miniver got to know her because she would often stay after class to discuss the lecture. She could speak up in class, but it took effort. After class was a different story. Ginny made friends with the other students that came into the office and she had a small group of friends that the professor knew in passing.

The professor didn’t consider Ginny Cushing a remarkable legal mind, but she had an incredible work ethic. She put in the time and effort that the naturally gifted rarely did. He considered that remarkable considering her position.

“What was her position?” Jess asked.

“Well, she was Virginia Cushing,” he said.

We all must’ve looked blank because he smiled and said, “Oh, I forgot. You don’t know the law community.”

“Our dad went to law school here,” said Max. “We can ask him about her.”

“No need. I mainly meant that you aren’t from New York City, are you?” Dr. Miniver asked.

“We’re from Missouri,” said Mariah. “But what’s that got to do with it?”

“Ginny was a Cushing from New York City. Her father was Seaforth Cushing, a partner at Cushing and Cushing. They are a top law firm and an old one. They’ve been around for a hundred years.”

The kids checked on their phones and confirmed that Cushing and Cushing was still around and still rolling in the dough.

“Are you saying that Ginny didn’t act like a trust fund kid?” Jess asked.

“She didn’t, not at all,” said Dr. Miniver. “We only found out by accident. Ginny would never have told anyone.”

Dr. Miniver had a group of students in his office shortly before finals at the end of Ginny’s first year. One of the other students asked if Ginny was short for Virginia. She said it was. Several of the students looked surprised and started glancing covertly at each other. Ginny seemed uncomfortable. She always looked that way when she was the center of attention. Then another student asked if she was named after her mother and she said yes. The students started asking about her family. Ginny excused herself and left abruptly. The professor was surprised until the students told him she was a Cushing of the New York Cushings.

“You never suspected?” I asked. “When Derek was here, the trust fund kids liked to throw their names around. They drove BMWs and had their own apartments. No roommates for them. One guy used to pay for two-dollar pitchers with hundred-dollar bills. He was such a jerk.”

He shook his head. “Not Ginny. She dressed like she shopped at the Salvation Army. Don’t get me wrong. Ginny took care of herself. She had this lovely dark brown hair and a nice smile, but she wasn’t fancy at all.”

“Do you think someone killed her because she belonged to the Cushing family?” Jess asked.

“In a manner of speaking.”

The professor kept in touch with Ginny because she made law review and he was very involved in mentoring students in matters of constitutional law. That’s how he discovered she was dating a third-year law student by the name of Todd West. He wasn’t sure how they met, but Todd started turning up in the law review offices to see Ginny. Everyone, including the professor, suspected that the attraction wasn’t so much Ginny herself but her family that had Todd West hanging around.

“Was he a weasel or something?” Max asked.

“He was…entitled,” said Dr. Miniver.

“So he had a trust fund,” said Jess.

“He certainly came off that way.” The professor grimaced and told us everything he knew about Todd West. He had him in his Con Law class too and at first, he seemed like a fine fit, but Todd was one of those students that thought an Ivy League law school was the end of the race, not the beginning. He barely showed up for class, took minimal notes, and if he knew an answer to a question, it shocked Dr. Miniver. He got by on his considerable charm and preppy good looks. He was tall and lean with blond hair that fell in perfect waves over brown eyes that girls seemed to swoon over. He always had undergrads hanging around waiting for him after class when he bothered to show up. Most of them were beauties, but not all. Dr. Miniver couldn’t understand why girls that clearly had the brains to get into the university would follow Todd around, especially the ones that didn’t stand a chance. He liked the gorgeous girls that were all legs and lips.

“So Ginny wasn’t his type?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t have thought so. She was pretty, but not in the obvious way those undergrads were. Ginny’s nickname was the librarian because she was always in the library.”

“How did Todd make it through 1L?” I asked. “It’s a nightmare of non-stop work. Derek studied constantly, during lunch, during dinner. I think he might’ve studied when he was on the toilet, but he wouldn’t confirm that.”

“He was top ten percent, right?” Dr. Miniver asked.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Well, Todd West wasn’t. He was bottom and I mean bottom. The poor kid that had cancer did better than him by a considerable margin.”

“Wow. What a loser,” said Mariah.

“I thought so, but there was Ginny going out with him.”

“Why do you think he killed her?” Henri asked.

“Because Todd was a loser, as you say.”

The professor thought Todd was desperate. He had a first-year internship because he mailed in a head shot with his references. It was ridiculous, but it was 1982 and Dr. Miniver heard a secretary got a load of Todd and put him on the top of the pile. The secretary was very single. He got the job, but unsurprisingly he didn’t perform and didn’t receive a recommendation. During his second year, word had gotten around. The legal community was smaller than you’d think. Everyone knows someone that knows you. Todd didn’t get a second-year internship. His only offer was from a personal injury lawyer that wanted to put him on his billboards, but Todd was too good for that.

“What did he do for a job?” Jess asked.

“I have no idea. He came back for third year, bragging about the firm he worked for in California, but he wouldn’t name it. No one believed the firm existed, except Ginny. She was a trusting sort. I don’t think she ever considered that he might be lying.”

“Love?” I asked.

“For her, certainly. He was handsome and he could make the room light up if he chose to. I heard he was talking about proposing to Ginny. That was in the spring semester around February.”

“Did he have a job yet?” I asked. “He should’ve.”

“It was different back then,” said Dr. Miniver. “Students tended to land their positions during the spring before graduation.”

“When do they do it now?” Mariah asked.

“Derek started applying in the summer before third year. He got hired in October,” I said.

“Wow.”

“Yeah. I thought it was weird, but that’s how it was or is, I guess.”

The professor nodded. “I think it’s too early, but no one hears me.”

“It is weird,” I said. “Do you think he had a job lined up when Ginny died?”

“I don’t.”

“You never said why you think he killed her,” said Henri.

“Because Ginny Cushing would never have killed herself. I know that for a fact.” Dr. Miniver teared up and then continued, “I died before I could tell the police that. I had a heart attack. I was so upset when I came back from Canada and heard she was dead. I just… I couldn’t calm down.”

“Take a moment and then tell us what you know,” I said.

He took a few deep breaths. “This is harder than I thought it would be. I’ve told other ghosts, but they couldn’t help me do anything. This is so important. He got away with it. He got clean away.”

“We can help,” said Jess. “When was the last time you saw Ginny?”

“That last Friday before spring break.”

“She was in the law review offices and then met with you?” I asked.

“How do you know that?” Dr. Miniver asked.

“It’s on the internet,” said Mariah.

“What a marvelous tool,” he said.

“It is,” said Jess. “You were saying.”

Dr. Miniver recounted what it said in the newspaper with a few key facts that they missed. Ginny had just landed an internship with a top firm in Washington, DC. She had a keen interest in domestic policy and women’s rights. She was thrilled. They talked about her call with the firm and how to get a sublet in the city. Then they discussed some editing of a note that was particularly bad.

“She didn’t say anything about Todd?” I asked.

“Not really, but I asked if she’d told him and she hadn’t,” he said. “That was the only time she got nervous during our discussion. I said that he’d be proud of her because I certainly was and Ginny said that she hoped he would be.”

“What happened after that?” Mariah asked.

“Nothing. She left. I met with a couple of 1Ls that were struggling and then I went home. My wife, Sally, had already packed and we left for Canada.”

“How did you find out Ginny had died?” Jess asked with her face like stone.

“You don’t have to tell us,” said Mariah. “How you found out isn’t a big deal.”

“Huh?” Henri asked.

“Yeah. That’s nuts,” said Max. “We have to know how everything happened. Maybe the murderer told him.”

I watched as Mariah’s breathing became rapid and Jess froze at the memory of her worst day.

“It can wait,” said Dr. Miniver, his face just as stone-like.

Jess shook her head. “No. Max is right.”

“Woo-hoo!” Max pumped a fist.

“It’s not a gold medal,” said Mariah with an eye roll.

“For me, it is.”

“Whatever.”

I stood up. “Let’s wait. It’s fine.”

Jess’ face changed. I could tell it took effort to come back from where she’d been, but she was determined to get through it for Mariah. “We’ll hear it now. Putting off facts just delays the investigation and we aren’t here for long.”

I sat back down and we all looked at Dr. Miniver, who wasn’t enthusiastic. “Maybe you could read it on the internet.”

Mariah crossed her arms, startling Hambone. “We’ve read everything there is. Go ahead. We can handle it.”

The professor took a breath and clenched his fists. We all glanced at each other. What in the world?

“We came home.” He took a breath and held it before continuing. “Sally unpacked and I went to my office to get my messages.”

“Okay,” I said in my most soothing voice. “Go on.”

“I was in my office and… and…”

That’s when it happened. Dr. Miniver started flipping through his ages again, from newborn to the age when he died.

“Whoa,” said Henri. “That is cool.”

“It’s not for him,” said Mariah and she shooed Hambone toward the ghost. The turkey flew through him and suddenly he was a toddler sitting on the floor, wearing an adorable railroad conductor outfit with a matching cap. He stared up at us with a dazed expression while Hambone gobbled around him angrily.

“How’d you know to do that?” Max asked.

“I don’t know,” said Mariah. “I just did it.”

“Genius.”

“What happened?” Dr. Miniver asked.

“You’re a toddler,” I said.

“Huh?”

“Look at your hands.”

He held up a plump fist, stared at it for a second, and then popped back to his thirty-year-old self in the corduroy suit. “Did I flash?”

“Flash?” Jess asked.

“That’s what one of my students calls it.”

“Cool,” said Henri. “It has a name.”

Dr. Miniver’s chair reappeared and he sat down with his hands shaking. “I don’t know if he’s correct. That’s just what he calls it.”

“Who’s this ghost?” Henri asked. “We should talk to him.”

“He doesn’t know anything about Ginny. He only started taking my classes a couple of years ago.”

Jess leaned forward. “When did he die?”

“Black Thursday.”

“When was that?” Mariah asked.

“I know,” said Max.

“No, you don’t.”

“I do. That old band wrote a song about it,” said Henri.

Dr. Miniver frowned. “Why would anyone write a song about Black Thursday?”

“I don’t know, but it’s a cool song.”

“Which band?” I asked.

“Those Irish guys,” said Max.

“Yeah, they had a whole album about stuff like that,” said Max. “Dad loves it. He plays it before cross examinations.”

“Are you talking about War by U2?” I asked.

Mariah crossed her arms again and looked at the ceiling. “Dr. Miniver said Black Thursday not Bloody Sunday.”

That got Jess chuckling and me smiling as the boys started singing “Sunday Bloody Sunday” seemingly without any realization that they were not, in fact, singing about a Thursday.

Dr. Miniver eyed them with fascination. “That is not about Black Thursday.”

“What’s it about then?” Max said, with a challenge in his tone.

“Sunday, for one thing,” said Mariah.

“Oh, yeah. I guess that is different,” said Henri.

Neither of my boys was embarrassed. They made a mistake. No big deal. They did get us off track with a discussion about Bloody Sunday, until Jess finally pointed out that it wasn’t helpful to the task at hand although both she and Mariah looked like they felt a lot better.

“Black Thursday is when the stock market crashed in 1929,” said Dr. Miniver.

The boys pointed at him. “That’s excellent.”

“I assure you it wasn’t.” He looked at me. “Do they attend school?”

“Hold on,” I said. “They have a point.”

“We always have a point,” said Max.

“Sometimes we don’t know what it is, but we always have one,” said Henri.

“Well, get to it,” said Mariah.

The boys imitated Mariah by crossing their arms and said in unison, “He might’ve been here when Ginny died.”

“Oh,” said Dr. Miniver.

“We should ask him,” said Jess. “You never know.”

The professor crossed and recrossed his legs. “He’s not the most stable person I’ve ever known.”

“Is he aggressive?” I asked, thinking of the shoe factory ghosts. I had no desire to be sprayed with blood from a severed arm or anything like it.

“He was a stockbroker.” Dr. Miniver seemed to think that answered the question.

“And?” Jess asked.

“And he jumped off a building on Bloody Thursday and he’s not over it yet.”

“Still?” Max asked. “That was like forever ago.”

“Still. He was the first to jump and he’s quite proud of it.”

We had nothing to say about that. People take pride in the oddest things.

“What’s his name?” Mariah asked with her phone at the ready.

“Elton Cloverbottom.”

“Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” the professor said with a sniff.

Mariah checked out Elton Cloverbottom and then announced that he wasn’t named as a suicide connected with the crash.

“I know, but if you meet him, don’t mention it,” said Dr. Miniver.

“Sore spot?” I asked.

“You have no idea. He wants credit.”

“We should ask him if he was here,” said Mariah.

Dr. Miniver shook his head. “As…interesting as Elton is, I think he would’ve told me if he’d seen her die. I’ve talked to all my students about her. No one knows anything.”

“Bummer,” said Max.

“Dr. Miniver,” I said. “Do you think you can tell us about that day now? If it’s not going to upset you too much.”

“Why does that flashing happen?” he asked. “I hate it.”

“I don’t know. What did the stockbroker say about it?” Jess asked.

“He doesn’t know either, but he does it when he talks about losing his money.”

“It’s an emotional response then. Makes sense.”

“You’ve seen it before?”

We told him about Patrick and the professor was horrified that we thought, however briefly, that he was a murderer.

“We don’t think it now,” said Mariah. “Tell us about what happened. If you do it again, we won’t freak or anything.”

Dr. Miniver clenched his fists and started slowly, pronouncing each word carefully. He’d been in his office when another professor’s assistant came in. Celeste asked him how he was doing and if he’d be going to the memorial service in the chapel on Sunday. Dr. Miniver had no idea what she was talking about and she told him that Ginny Cushing had killed herself.

He flipped through several ages, but it wasn’t so rapid and he got control on his own.

“Then what?” Jess asked gently.

“It’s a little foggy. I was so shocked. I don’t remember what I said to her. I just left and drove to the police station.”

“What did they say?” I asked.

Dr. Miniver met with the two officers that had done the investigation into Ginny’s death, Sgt. Tim Ridley and Detective John Emory. They took him to an interrogation booth. They were kind since he was clearly upset, but Dr. Miniver had the impression that they were humoring him, which made him more upset. They got the slim file and told him that Ginny had drowned after jumping off the bridge. Open and shut as far as they were concerned.

“She was alive when she went into the river?” I asked.

“They found water in her lungs, but that can’t be right. Ginny did not kill herself. She absolutely would not.” He flipped through a few ages and then continued. “Ginny was happy. She had plans with her whole life ahead of her.”

“Did you tell them that?” Mariah asked, with doubt all over her face.

“I did. I tried, but they cut me off. They said ridiculous things about her,” said Dr. Miniver.

“Like what?” Jess asked.

“She was depressed. She didn’t have a job. She was lonely and had no friends.” He clenched his fists so tight they were completely white. “I said no. I asked who said that, but they didn’t understand me. There was this pain down my left arm. My chest. It felt like someone had me in a giant pair of vise grips. But I kept trying to tell them. I was on the floor and then…”

We all leaned forward.

“Don’t leave us in suspense,” said Jess.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” he said. “I was everywhere all at once.”

“Like the movie,” said Henri.

I squeezed his shoulder. “Please let him talk.”

Dr. Miniver told us how he was all over the place. With his wife. Then his kids. In his office and then on the bridge. At Harvard and then the house he grew up in. He was in apartments from when he had his first job in New York and then in his house in Ithaca and so many other places too many to name. Eventually, he was at Cornell more and more.

A blush bloomed on his cheeks. “I didn’t know I was dead.”

“That’s not unusual,” I said.

“I’ve gathered that, but it’s still embarrassing,” he said.

“How did you figure it out?” Henri asked.

“I kept going to places that should be mine. My office had a new professor in it. He smelled like onions. I hate onions. I couldn’t understand why he was there. I kept looking for my new office. Our house…” The professor teared up. “It had strangers living in it. One day I was in the kitchen and I heard the new people talking about the professor that died.”

“There you go,” said Max.

“You would think so, but I thought they were talking about someone else. I really did.” He held up his hands. “I looked normal. I didn’t get it.”

“When did you finally realize they were talking about you?” Jess asked.

Dr. Miniver grimaced. “August.”

“Wow,” said Henri.

“I know. So embarrassing.”

“What happened in August?” I asked.

“Orientation for the new 1Ls,” he said.

Dr. Miniver always did orientation. He enjoyed helping the new students learn about law school, which was quite an adjustment for most of them. You could have a history degree and go to law school so the law was a foreign country for most 1Ls.

“What happened?” Jess asked.

“I went and no one saw me. I still didn’t understand. I didn’t want to be dead. I wasn’t ready to be dead. I kept trying to be seen so I could help them.”

My heart hurt a little. If I had any doubts about his innocence, they vanished then. “What changed it?”

“My name. A student said it and he was really sad. His older brother was a graduate and I’d known him well. He told his little brother to seek me out because I would help him find his way. Then he said it.”

We waited and he flipped through at least five ages.

“He said, ‘I can’t believe he died. Rob was so upset when he found out. Dr. Miniver was his favorite professor.’ Then I knew I was gone.”

“I’m sorry that was so difficult for you,” I said.

“I didn’t know what to do or why I was here,” he said. “But then I realized it must be Ginny. I didn’t help her. I didn’t save her or set the record straight.”

Mariah’s phone dinged and she checked it. “It’s Jordyn.”

“What did she say?” Max asked.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“She said, ‘Hey’.”

Jess smiled. “She’s reaching out.”

“Ya think?” Henri asked.

“That’s as much as she can muster,” I said.

“I guess I’ll say hey back,” said Mariah.

“No,” said Jess. “Tell her we’re boring and ask her to coffee.”

“I’m not thirty-five and I don’t want to date her.”

The boys jumped up and high-fived each other.

“Ask her about Red Barn,” said Max.

“We want to go to Red Barn,” said Henri. “She can take us.”

“There’s no us,” said Mariah.

“There could be an us,” said Max. “Ask her.”

Mariah started typing and said, “You’re not coming.”

Her phone dinged and she groaned.

Henri and Max pumped their fists.

“She wants us to come,” said Max.

“You don’t know that,” said Mariah.

“I bet we do.”

Mariah clammed up, but Jess said, “Take them. It’s a good thing.”

“How exactly are they a good thing, Mom?” Mariah asked.

Henri turned to Max. “Are we insulted?”

“Who cares? We’re going to Red Barn,” said Max.

“I’m telling her you’re busy,” said Mariah.

“Take them,” I said. “The conversation won’t lag. The Eggs are entertaining and Jordyn is struggling. She needs whatever they are.”

Gobble. Gobble.

“Ham Salad agrees,” said Max.

Gobble.

“Fine.” Mariah texted Jordyn and got a lightning-fast reply. “She’s heading there now.”

“Can we get some food?” Henri asked.

“You just ate,” said Mariah.

“That was hours ago.”

They argued about food intake requirements while Jess and I handed over some cash for food they may or may not have needed.

“Don’t say anything important until we’re back,” said Max.

“We’re not going to be here forever,” I said, watching Jess yawn.

Mariah stopped on a dime. “I’ll ask her if we can do it tomorrow.”

Jess shook her head. “No, we’ll just go back to the hotel. You three can get an Uber.”

“We can walk,” said Max. “This town is great for walking.”

“No walking,” said Mariah.

“Walking is good.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

They bickered until they were out of earshot and I’m sure it didn’t end there.

“I’ve worn you out,” said Dr. Miniver. “I apologize.”

“It wasn’t you,” said Jess. “It was dancing into the wee hours.”

I yawned and stood up. “Let’s go to the hotel.”

The professor looked so crestfallen that I had to quickly reassure him that our interview wasn’t finished, but rather we were reconvening in a place with pillows and tea. It took some persuading, but he came with us to the car and rode in the back while we continued to ask questions.

Dr. Miniver had done some investigating on his own in the early days of his death. He found Ginny’s friends and hung around until they talked about her. The girls believed it was suicide. They discussed how they could’ve missed how sad Ginny was. They couldn’t understand how someone with her drive and grades didn’t land a job for the summer. The girls talked about a lot of possibilities, including whether Ginny was lying about her grades. They seemed to settle on that option as the only way things made sense. If Ginny was as great a student as they thought, suicide wouldn’t have happened, certainly not over the lack of a summer internship.

“What did they think about Todd?” Jess asked.

“They thought it was weird that he was dating her.”

“Because?”

The professor was silent and I looked in the rearview mirror to see him struggling to form an answer.

“You can say it,” I said. “It can’t hurt Ginny now.”

“They loved her. I know that, but they thought she wasn’t pretty enough for Todd,” he said.

Jess shifted and looked back at him. “That doesn’t surprise us. We were that age once.”

“But you would never be catty like that,” said Dr. Miniver.

“We all have our less than stellar moments. What else did they say?”

“Todd should’ve liked them better.”

“Jealousy,” I said. “We all have it in us.”

“But she was their friend and she was dead,” he said.

“Does that change the facts?”

Dr. Miniver scoffed at the idea of facts, but he did reluctantly admit that some of the girls in question would’ve been considered more attractive than Ginny. Marginally. I figured he was lowballing it, but I didn’t say so. The law professor was loyal to his student and I wasn’t going to challenge his view of her.

“So that’s it? Jealousy?” I asked.

“No, they were jealous when Ginny was alive, but I don’t think they really liked Todd. They just wanted him to like them.”

“How did they feel about him later on?” Jess asked.

“Hated him. Absolutely hated him.”

Jess and I glanced at each other.

“Really?” I asked. “Why?”

“They found out he got married.”

“Super jealous?” Jess asked.

He shook his head. “Not at all. Anne Fleming was an undergrad. They thought he targeted her and”—The professor lowered his voice—”got her pregnant on purpose.”

“When did that happen?” I asked.

“June, I think.”

“That quick? Right after his girlfriend died?” Jess asked with her cheeks pinking up.

“That’s what the girls said. They thought he was scum.”

“Who exactly was Anne Fleming?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” Dr. Miniver asked.

“I mean, why her? You thought Todd went after Ginny for her connections so Anne must have some.”

“Oh, right. Her father was Vincent Fleming, a bigwig in criminal law.”

“Did he give Todd a job?” Jess asked.

“He did.”

“Todd was a scumbag.”

“He murdered Ginny so I’d say so,” said Dr. Miniver.

I parked beside our hotel and we led the way in. Dr. Miniver kept talking. Now that we’d gotten him going, he wanted it all out. Todd West made a boatload of money at his father-in-law’s firm, but he was a marginal lawyer at best. The professor hung around trying to be seen and get Todd fired, but it didn’t work.

We went into our room and collapsed on the beds after turning on the coffeemaker to warm up.

“How long did you try?” I asked as I kicked off my shoes.

“Until I couldn’t stand it anymore,” said Dr. Miniver.

“What couldn’t you stand?” Jess asked.

Tears flooded his eyes. “That he was happy.”

Chapter Nine

Jess and I crashed for about two hours after Dr. Miniver popped out. I don’t remember deciding to take a nap. A nap just happened and it would’ve happened longer if we hadn’t had a bunch of kids barreling into the room, asking questions before we were even conscious.

“Mark says he’s ordering pizza tonight,” said Henri.

“Do we want to get in on that?” Max asked. “I do. We should.”

“Hey, where’s Dr. Miniver?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing stuff?”

“Did you solve it already?”

“That sucks. We missed it again.”

I opened my eyes and saw Jess looking at me from her bed. “Oh, dear lord.”

“So much talking,” I said.

“All the talking,” said Jess.

Henri dropped onto the bed beside me. “Were you sleeping? It’s like four thirty.”

“Were,” I said.

“What?”

I rolled over and sat up, catching sight of myself in the mirror. It wasn’t good. I’d drooled. A lot. And some of it may have crusted up in my hair. I still had tax pimples and bags under my eyes that no concealer was going to manage.

“I look terrible,” I said. “This is the worst.”

“You look totally normal, Mom,” said Max.

“That’s not the compliment you think it is.”

“I mean, we’ve seen you look a lot worse, like that cold you had when you solved the Stickle case. That was bad,” said Henri.

“Or the time she had bacterial bronchitis,” said Max.

“Remember the time when she fell down the frozen steps at the old house, broke her ankle, and Mr. Nohra’s dog came over and threw up on her right before we got home to save her from freezing to death?”

Max looked at me with a rare, serious expression. “Yeah, that was a lot worse, but what about the time⁠—”

I cut off my son’s reminiscing. “Thanks. I’m convinced that I have in fact looked a lot worse.”

“You’re still beautiful no matter how bad you look,” said Henri.

“And you’re good too, Jess,” said Max.

“Always a goal of mine.” Jess rolled upright with her own considerable amount of crust.

Mariah walked in with Jordyn and Hambone, carrying a drinks holder. “Wow.”

“They look beautiful,” said Henri, winking at them like crazy.

“Yeah, okay,” said Mariah. “You want some malts.”

I gratefully accepted a malt. “Mariah, you’re the best thing ever.”

“Hey,” said Max. “It was our idea.”

Henri snagged his own malt and said, “Yeah, we said you were gonna look rough so⁠—”

Mariah pointed at our connecting door. “Get out.”

“We helped,” said Henri.

“Help less.”

“What ever happened to honesty is the best policy?” Max asked. “We are always honest. You can trust us implicitly.”

Mariah and Jordyn sat down in the chairs by the window, each girl looking like they’d smelled the trappers or something worse if that’s possible.

I yawned and finger-combed my hair. “They’re right, Mariah. Max and Henri are honest.”

“To a fault,” said Jess.

“That makes honesty sound bad,” said Henri. “We were making you feel better.”

“A little less of that would be okay,” I said. “How about you go game or something?”

“No way,” said Max. “We want to know what Dr. Miniver said.”

Everyone looked at Jordyn who had been silent so far, a common reaction to being exposed to Max and Henri for a long period.

“Hi, Jordyn,” said Jess. “You okay?”

“I’m good,” she said. “Who’s Dr. Miniver?”

I got up and grabbed a brush. Fingers weren’t gonna do it. “So how was Red Barn?”

“Smooth, Mom,” said Henri.

“I try.”

“Jordyn knows all about us,” said Max. “And we’re going to help her.”

I had no idea what was coming next. With Max and Henri, it could be absolutely anything. “Do what?”

“Make her mark on Cornell,” said Henri as if that were obvious.

“Are you going to break into McGraw and play the chimes too?” Jess asked with a smile.

“Not a chance,” said Jordyn with a hint of amusement but the girl was still pretty glum.

“She’s totally into podcasts,” said Max. “So we thought she should beat that MurderIvy woman to the punch and solve Ginny Cushing’s murder. Jordyn will be a legend around here.”

Jess and I were so surprised we said nothing.

“You’re not mad, are you?” Mariah asked. “I know it’s your thing, but you never care about publicity or credit.”

“I’m not going to do it,” said Jordyn. “I’m not. I don’t know how. Don’t worry about it.”

Hambone jumped onto my bed and started pecking at my brush so I handed it to Jess and she went after her long blonde hair while draining her malt.

“It’s not that, Jordyn,” I said. “You can totally do a podcast on it, but we can’t guarantee that we’ll solve it.”

Jordyn slumped down and I feared she might poke her eye out with her straw. “It’s fine. Like I said, I don’t know how.”

Max went over and punched her gently in the shoulder, garnering him a confused look. “Nobody knows how to do anything until they do it. Right, Mom?”

“I agree completely, but we do have one problem,” I said.

“What’s that?” Mariah asked.

“Jordyn doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

“I want to believe,” said Jordyn.

Henri laughed and said, “That we’re not crazy.”

“Yeah, well.”

“It’s okay,” said Jess. “We get it. Before we moved to St. Seb, we didn’t believe in ghosts.”

Jordyn took a deep breath and asked the question I’m pretty sure she’d been wanting to ask since she met us. “Is my mom here?”

“No, honey,” said Jess. “Nobody’s here.”

Gobble. Gobble.

“Except Hamlet,” said Max.

“That’s so lame,” said Henri. “We need more nicknames for Mariah’s turk.”

“Not my turk.” Mariah stomped her foot.

Angry gobble.

“What are we talking about?” Jordyn asked, giving us the side-eye and probably rethinking being alone with strangers in a hotel room.

I told her about the turkeys and the other ghost animals we’d run into.

“There’s a turkey in here?” she asked. “A real turkey, as in gobble gobble?”

Gobble. Gobble.

“Real in a manner of speaking,” said Jess. “Her name is Hambone, for some reason.”

“Because it’s cool,” said Max and Henri together.

Mariah rolled her eyes.

“Mom, we need another nickname,” said Henri.

I don’t know where it came from, but I said, “Hammington Steele.”

Jess burst out laughing and fell on her bed. I explained about the TV show Remington Steele. The boys weren’t convinced until I told them Pierce Brosnan was a James Bond.

“Hammington Steele,” said Max, “give Jordyn a gobble.”

She gobbled. Oh, did she gobble. Jordyn just stared at us in a way that made me question my own sanity for a minute.

“Alright then,” I said. “What did you all talk about if you weren’t discussing the case?”

“Hal and Jordyn’s mom,” said Henri.

“Really?” Jess asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know. You two aren’t very…”

The boys’ eyes went wide.

“We were very,” said Max. “We promise.”

Jordyn became a little less glum. “I don’t know what that means, but it’s cool.”

“Your mom was very cool,” said Henri and he went on to tell us about Jordyn’s mom. She didn’t have to say a thing and I suspect she was happy about that. She just sipped her malt and nodded at the descriptions of her mom’s masterful cake-making techniques. She’d been a YouTube sensation and her specialty was making cakes that looked like other foods or objects.

“Can I ask when it happened?” Jess asked.

“The fall of my senior year,” said Jordyn, growing tearful. “I’d already been accepted to Cornell so my dad said I had to come. Mom would’ve wanted me to.”

“What do you think?”

Jordyn shrugged. “He wanted me gone. I look just like her.”

“It was an accident,” said Mariah. “No warning.”

Jess went over and put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Like Dad.”

“Yeah.”

“Leo was right,” I said. “You do understand Jordyn.”

“He’s never wrong,” said Mariah. “And I think you should do the podcast.”

“I don’t have the equipment,” said Jordyn.

“We can help with that,” said Max.

“How?”

“Our birthday party money,” said Henri.

“And my babysitting money,” said Mariah. “I saved it for this trip, but then I didn’t need it.”

“I can’t take your money,” said Jordyn, looking both hopeful and embarrassed at the same time. “I have a little from working at Crazy Mike’s on Fridays.”

I watched the kids convince their new friend that it wouldn’t be too expensive and that it would save Cornell, putting the university into a good light not a nasty one. They could always throw more parties and do more babysitting. This was important. Jordyn was important. I couldn’t have been prouder of them.

“But it would be about a murder,” she said. “If it’s a murder.”

The kids looked at us.

“We don’t know yet,” I said, “But Dr. Miniver is convinced.”

Jordyn raised a brow and we told her about the law professor.

“Did we miss anything?” Max asked.

I nodded. “A little.”

Jess told them the rest of the professor’s story. Todd being happy and when Dr. Miniver went to visit Ginny’s family. It took him a year to locate them. That shocked the kids, but hello no Google to help and he couldn’t exactly look the Cushings up in the phone book. He had to hang around the office in New York City and it was huge, with about three hundred lawyers and a lot of staff support. Ginny’s father had all but retired. He was still a partner though and came in on the rare occasion. The professor could never time it right. Eventually, he heard an associate being invited to Seaforth Cushing’s home in the Hamptons. Dr. Miniver followed him there and finally got to see Ginny’s family. They had a beach house that was surprisingly normal. Dr. Miniver described it as a ranch house, meaning one story with a lot of windows. Seaforth and his wife, Virginia, were at the house. They were dressed in jeans and worn-out oxfords. Virginia was barefoot and Seaforth wore Birkenstocks.

“Ginny makes more sense then,” said Mariah.

“Dr. Miniver thought so too,” said Jess.

“Did he find anything out?” Max asked.

“He didn’t.”

The visit saddened Dr. Miniver. There weren’t any pictures of Ginny on the walls, but they talked about her, never using her name. Virginia kept saying that she was so smart how could this happen or words to that effect. Seaforth muttered about an idiot boy and how he should’ve nipped it in the bud, but that was it. Virginia told him that they had to stop going over it or they’d go crazy. Dr. Miniver hung out in their house for some time and followed them around to their apartment in the city, but they never spoke of Ginny again.

“Wasn’t anyone suspicious?” Jordyn asked. “You said her friends didn’t think she would do that.”

“Everyone believed the cops,” I said. “There was no reason not to.”

The boys nodded.

“If she had water in her lungs,” said Henri, “are we sure Dr. Miniver isn’t, ya know, crazy?”

I finished my malt and thought about it for a minute. “I’m sure he believes that Todd did it.”

“Good enough for me. What do we do now?” Henri said.

“And where’s Dr. Miniver?” Mariah asked.

“We asked him to check with his students to see if any of them were on campus when Ginny died,” said Jess.

We tried calling Dr. Miniver, but he didn’t come. Maybe he couldn’t hear us like Leo and the trappers did.

“You said something about his students?” Jordyn asked.

“Oh, yeah. Ghosts go back to college. Leo got a degree from MIT,” said Henri.

“Why?” she asked befuddled.

“Why not?” Max asked. “He’s awesome with our math homework.”

“Your ghost tutors you?”

“And he does the taxes with Mom,” said Henri.

Jordyn turned to look at me. Her eyes had fear in them like she thought we were making fun of her. I crossed my heart. “Leo’s a math guy and doesn’t mind.”

“Yeah, taxes give Mom pimples,” said Max.

“Thanks.”

Jess’ phone dinged and she checked it. “Were you supposed to ask us about pizza with Mark and Susan and everyone?”

“We did ask,” said Max.

“What did we say?”

“I forget.”

Jess sighed. “Okay. Pizza at seven. Mark’s getting us a conference room.”

“Aren’t those for business people?” Jordyn asked.

“Never underestimate Mark,” said Jess.

“Or Gen X.” Jordyn smiled her first real smile. “Last night was amazing.”

The boys clapped their hands together and rubbing them.

“What do we do now?” Max asked. “We have time before pizza.”

“That’s simple,” I said. “Find Todd West.”

“Or Ginny’s friends,” said Jess.

Jordyn rubbed her hands together just like the boys. “Interviews.”

“To the laptops!” Max and Henry shouted and the kids all rushed into what they decided was their command center aka the boys’ room.

Jess lay back on the bed. “There’s going to be a lot less hiking around the lake than I expected on this trip.”

“It’s so cold you’d have to buy a coat like Susan’s,” I said.

She smiled. “Never going to happen.”

Chapter Ten

Mark leaned back, balancing his chair on two legs and propped up his feet on the coffee table he’d dragged in from reception, without permission, I might add. Hambone had her nest on the table and she wasn’t a fan of feet, but she didn’t peck at him. He polished off his fifth piece of pizza and looked around the conference room he’d commandeered.

“Does anyone else find this inspiring?” Mark asked.

Josh’s mom, Susan, grimaced. “I can’t decide.”

“What’s to decide?”

Susan picked at her second slice of vegetarian pizza. “I just hope they use their powers for good, not evil.”

I put my feet up next to Mark’s. “I’m going with inspiring.”

“Same here,” said Jess.

“I think those boys might be magical,” said Mark.

Max and Henri were in the middle of the maelstrom on the other side of the room that was so large it doubled as a wedding reception area and the kids had filled it with what they were calling their war room.

“If they are,” said Jess, “they aren’t the only ones.”

Susan didn’t dispute that idea. I think she was simply amazed by the turn of events. Max and Henri’s room didn’t cut it as a command center once they kicked into gear. I don’t know why I ever thought it would. The Eggs didn’t do things in a small way. In this case, a lot of it was the podcaster, Donna the Mistress of Death’s fault.

While the kids were researching Todd West and trying to track down Ginny Cushing’s friends, she started posting more crap about Cornell, really leaning into the MurderIvy theme. The hashtag was trending hard and they decided they had to kick Jordyn’s podcast into high gear. I’m not sure Jordyn was on board but she got swept away, like most people, by their sheer enthusiasm for a good scheme.

They called on Ava for backup. She called Molly and Kelly. They called a couple of 2L law students. Mariah got Olivia, Isabelle, and Josh into the mix. Once Mark heard what was going on, he got everyone organized and we set up the command center where several teams were working on different areas of the operation.

About an hour in, Donna the Mistress of Death messaged Jess and tried pumping her for information. Jess shut that down, since it was obviously a one-way street. Donna knew nothing of interest about Ginny’s death. Jordyn said she would’ve posted better teasers if she had anything, which made sense. Unfortunately, Donna wasn’t one to take no for an answer, but she was one for revenge. She knew who we were and started posting stuff about me, Jess, and St. Seb. To say she wasn’t flattering would be a massive understatement, but we didn’t care so neither did the kids. Susan and Mark were shocked, but pizza was a good distraction while we watched the kids hatch their plan of attack.

They decided Jordyn needed a wide-ranging podcast on Cornell. Not just murder. Max and Henri said she had to do positive things first before hitting Donna with the Ginny case and she agreed reluctantly. Jordyn was a true crime buff and when The Eggs said sunny-side-up, she went sunny-side-down.

“I don’t know how to be… funny,” she said.

“You don’t have to be,” said Henri. “Let everyone else do it.”

“How?”

“Weird stuff happens here, right?” Max asked.

Ava looked around at the bustling room. “This might be the weirdest thing ever. That and the chimes thing.”

“Think small,” said Henri. “You moved in and the toilet overflowed in your dorm room.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Max. “Your keycard didn’t work and you slept in the common room.”

“Someone put a red dye pack in the washer and now all your clothes are pink.”

“Your roommate was so nervous during her first class she threw up on the back of the seat in front of her.”

Molly started laughing and said, “That one actually happened.”

“To who?” Kelly asked.

“Madison Hamilton.”

“We have to get her in here to tell that story,” said Kelly. “That would be hilarious.”

“Would it?” Jordyn asked.

“Absolutely,” I said. “Have a podcast of all the stuff that goes wrong. People can relate.”

Henri spread his arms wide. “We’ll call it Welcome to Cornell: WTF just happened?”

The team loved it and The Eggs started working the phones while Josh and Mark worked on a plan to record the podcast without the fancy equipment. Josh was a science and tech guy. He knew a great app for it, but they needed sound damping so he and Mark found a medical supply store. They bought a few rolls of egg crate mattress toppers, the kind you use for the elderly so they don’t get pressure sores. Then they used tables and chairs to build a recording suite filled with the egg crate. Jordyn was stunned and shaky. She never thought that when Max and Henri came up with the podcast idea that it would actually happen and certainly not that fast. The Eggs were all about speed. I could’ve warned her, but then she might’ve tried to get out of it and Jordyn needed the podcast and the little community that had already formed around it.

Ava and the 2Ls were setting up the business, complete with release forms and applying for nonprofit status. The team didn’t want any one person to benefit financially and they agreed to give all profits to a scholarship fund in Ginny’s name. The law students were deep in figuring out how to accomplish that.

Max and Henri were calling everyone who had a funny story about starting Cornell and it didn’t take long before Jordyn had her first interview. Kelly had recruited a couple of journalism majors to come over and help with writing the script. Josh handled the tech and Olivia and Isabelle were all over the editing. They were into TikTok and insisted on Jordyn doing some videos so she got a mini makeover. Olivia took some videos during Jordyn’s first two interviews and they were currently editing and posting the clips.

The next idea was Crazy Cornell: Weird on Campus. That was Max’s idea. Ghost sightings. Odd coincidences. Stuff like that. Max said there wouldn’t be any shortage of people for those stories and there wasn’t.

Meanwhile, Mariah, Molly, and Kelly were researching Ginny’s case. It was harder than anyone expected. Todd West was MIA. The girls discovered that he’d divorced Anne Fleming after ten years or rather she divorced him for having multiple affairs. That didn’t come as a shock since Todd married Anne for her connections. From the pictures the girls found of Todd West’s wife, she matched him less than Ginny did. Anne was rather homely and plump, with stringy brown hair that was always back in a headband, exposing a high forehead. She did have lovely blue eyes, a reputation for generosity and kindness, and a brilliant career as CEO of a small pharmaceutical company, but I doubt Todd valued any of that.

Dr. Miniver said that Todd was happy and from all accounts, he was, but I think it’s fair to say he was the only one. He was a terrible lawyer with multiple ethics complaints. His father-in-law kept him at the firm but relegated him to the level of Walmart greeter, which he was apparently fine with.

When Anne dumped him, her father fired him. Mr. Fleming had kept an extensive file on Todd so his unlawful termination suit went nowhere. Then Todd went to a personal injury law firm, one of the ones that has billboards and 1-800 numbers. Ava found more complaints about Todd hanging out at ERs and during the opioid epidemic at doctors’ offices that were essentially pill mills. Mostly, Todd was on the billboards and he was handsome, I had to admit. He had one of those faces that made you want to trust him, just the right amount of handsome, sympathy, and kind eyes. Todd was no longer at the firm, but he was still on the billboards and website so that tells you how successful he was at looking good.

About fifteen years ago, Todd fell off the map. He wasn’t at the firm anymore and there hadn’t been any fresh complaints. The number he’d had during years prior told the girls that he couldn’t be practicing anymore, but they couldn’t find him. If he was dead, nobody knew it. The West family wasn’t big into social media. They did post when people died and about get-togethers, but all West family postings stopped with the deaths of the parents ten years ago. Todd had three sisters, all married with kids. His kids had socials, but they hated their dad. His son openly scorned his father after Todd tried to take money out of his kids’ trust funds, only to discover he wasn’t a trustee. The sisters had no socials and their kids had no info other than stuff on their own lives, usually vacations, sports, and food. It couldn’t be easy.

Jess and I wanted to help, but the kids didn’t need us so we concentrated on eating. My jeans wouldn’t fit right after the trip, but I was good with it.

“Ready for another margarita?” Susan asked, holding up the blender carafe. I had no idea where she’d gotten it, but she was a whiz at mixed drinks, including virgin ones. Mariah said her virgin strawberry daiquiris slapped.

I held out my glass and she said, “Say when.”

“When,” I said and took a sip as Dr. Miniver appeared behind the law students. He eyed their work and then smiled. The professor had been in and out with updates. He was painfully disappointed that none of the other parents or kids could see him but joyful at the effort going into saving Cornell’s rep and solving Ginny’s case.

He pointed at a side door and I excused myself for a bathroom break. He waited for me in the hall and popped into his wedding tux, his favorite age.

“I can’t find anyone who saw Ginny on the day in question, but a guy in the library said that he thinks the stoners in the rock park might know something.”

“There are stoners in the rock park?” I asked. “How’d I miss that?”

“They’re there at dusk usually.”

“Hippies?”

“Yes. I don’t associate with them usually,” said Dr. Miniver with a slight grimace.

“Are you a snob?” I asked with a smile.

“They smell terrible. I could never stand the smell of grass.”

I smiled at the term my parents used for pot and then asked, “If the hippies only hang at the rock park, why would they know anything?”

“You never know. I’ll try anything,” he said.

“What about Ginny’s friends? Or Todd, for that matter?”

“Julie is in Paris, as Mariah said. She’s asleep. You can call her in the morning. I don’t know where Stephanie is. I tried the address Molly found, but there’s a lovely Indonesian family living there.”

“Rotten luck,” I said. “What about Connie?”

“Her mother’s in hospice,” he said. “We should leave her alone.”

“People come off of hospice care sometimes. It isn’t always a death sentence.”

“It is in this case,” said Dr. Miniver. “Connie is very upset. Bringing up Ginny isn’t a good idea.”

“I’ll tell the girls.”

Dr. Miniver walked to the open doorway and looked in at the activity. “I take it you’re no closer to finding Todd.”

“His social media is a bust,” I said, holding up my phone showing Todd’s Facebook account.

The professor took a look. “He’s not in Alaska? How do you know?”

“Because two days ago he was in Borneo with a sunburn and now he’s in Denali without one,” I said.

“I don’t understand how he’s doing those pictures,” said Dr. Miniver. “And he’s got video. How does he do that?”

“The magic of technology.”

“I can’t imagine this world you inhabit so easily.”

“Sometimes, I can’t either.”

Max poked his head out the door. “Hey, Dr. Miniver, what’s poppin’?”

“Huh?”

“It means how are you,” I said.

“Very well, Max. And you?” Dr. Miniver asked.

“Great. Molly’s done it.”

“Done what?” I asked.

“She found someone.”

Max led us back into the conference room where most of the group were huddled around Molly, Kelly, and Mariah. Josh and Jordyn were in the booth doing an interview with a sophomore who’d decided to paint himself green for a party, bought the paint, and found himself green for an entire semester.

Molly spotted me. “I have it!”

“Todd?”

“Close.”

She squeezed through the group and came over to us, sitting on the coffee table with Mariah and Kelly in tow. “I found Todd’s sister, Joanna. She made it so hard.”

“How?” Mark asked. “Everything’s public record.”

“She got married and ten years ago, she legally dropped West from the record and erased it. So did her sisters. They aren’t on Ancestry or anything like that either,” said Molly.

“How did you find her then?” Jess asked.

“Mariah noticed that in the last family reunion picture, Joanna was wearing a Cornell tee.”

“Not in honor of Todd,” I said. “I can’t imagine that.”

“Nobody wears their brother’s school,” said Mark.

“And Todd’s a douchebag,” said Susan.

“Right,” said Molly. “So we started combing through Cornell.”

“She went to Cornell?” Max asked.

“No,” said Mariah. “Better.”

“Let’s have it,” I said.

“She’s a professor of mathematics. Dr. Joanna Bledsoe.” Molly turned her laptop around and showed us a picture of Dr. Bledsoe. My mind flashed back to the West family reunion pictures the girls had found. You would never know Dr. Bledsoe and Todd West were related. It was the same with the rest of the family too. I’m not saying the Wests were unattractive, but they were ordinary people. If you looked hard enough, you could find elements of Todd in his relatives. The wavy blond hair here. The jawline there. The only one to put it all together was Todd, a ten in a family of solid fives.

“Does anyone know her?” Jess asked. “We need to talk to her.”

“Already taken care of,” said Henri. “Or it will be.”

“What did you do?” Mark asked.

“Ava’s roommate’s boyfriend’s first roommate’s friend is her teaching assistant,” said Kelly.

“I didn’t follow that at all,” I said. “Are you calling that person?”

“We already did,” said Mariah. “He’s going to call her and see if she’ll talk to you.”

“Amazing,” said Susan. “I will drink to that.”

Susan had some more margarita and the kids got back to work, except for Mariah, Molly, and Kelly. They yawned and went after some cream puffs that Mark had delivered from a local bakery.

“Do we know what she’s like?” I asked.

“She’s cool,” said Kelly. “I read up on her. She’s described as stern but fair. Her classes are super hard, but you learn the most if you’re into that kind of thing.”

Kelly smiled like she wasn’t, but I noted that she was spending her Saturday night working, not at Crazy Mike’s or somewhere like it.

That’s when a ding echoed through the conference room.

“She’s at it again!” Max called out and we all checked our phones. Donna the Mistress of Death had updated her MurderIvy thread. She was now asserting that Dr. Miniver had strangled Ginny Cushing because of unrequited sexual attraction although she didn’t put it quite so cleanly. She went on to say that other professors knew about his obsession and covered it up with the cops’ help.

“She has really lost it,” said Mark. “This is a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

There was another ding, but it didn’t come from my phone.

“Did you get that?” Jess asked.

“Nope.” I looked up to see Mariah frozen, staring down at her phone.

“Mariah, what’s wrong?” I asked.

“Did she post that we’re lunatics?” Jess asked.

Mariah looked up. “Not yet.”

“Don’t worry. We’re not,” I said.

She swallowed hard. “It’s Uncle Jeff.”

Jess kicked her feet up on the coffee table. “What does he want?”

Mariah said nothing for a second. Hal’s brother had made a play to get custody of Mariah after Hal died hoping to get ahold of the life insurance and other funds, but we’d fended him off or so we thought.

“Mariah,” said Jess, stiffening. “What did he say?”

“That MurderIvy woman called him and said that he should call social services on you because I’m being exposed to deviant and radical ideas.”

Jess rolled her eyes.

“What deviant and radical ideas?” Susan asked.

“I guess it’s the St. Seb stuff,” said Mariah.

“Sixty-nine percent of Americans believe in angels. What’s wrong with ghosts?”

Mark nodded. “Excellent point.”

“He’s going to come to St. Seb and⁠—”

Dr. Miniver waved at me. “There are legal remedies for this type of situation. I’ll help.”

I stood up, my hands in fists. “We’ll fix it. He can’t do that.”

“I think you will find that Jeffrey Cleary can and will.” A blonde woman walked in, wearing a leopard cape and holding out a vape pen like a sword. She sauntered to the center of the room and did a spin. Then she posed like she was some kind of supermodel and waited, I assume, for applause. She had that kind of look about her. Applause was not forthcoming.

“Who the hell are you?” Mark asked.

“Don’t you recognize the competition?” She flipped back her hair. I was surprised it moved. It was parted in the middle with waves back from the face and had a Lego hair quality to it.

“Donna D’Angelo?” Susan asked with a burp. “You look different.”

“Than what?”

“Your online profile.”

She scowled. “I look exactly the same.”

Donna the Mistress of Death did not look the same. She was at least fifteen years older and fifty pounds heavier. Sometimes people take facial fillers too far and she had.

“Are you on prednisone?” Mark asked.

“I am not,” she said. “How dare you!”

Mark turned to me. “I enjoy daring.”

“Are you ready to talk terms?” Donna asked.

No one said anything. For the life of me, I couldn’t think what she was talking about. Terms? Were we in some sort of negotiation?

She spun around again, stuck out a leg, and posed. “Did you not hear me?”

“Terms for what?” I asked.

“Ending your little enterprise.”

“Why would we do that?” Jess asked, crossing her arms.

She put a hand with no less than five rings on her chest. “Because Uncle Jeffy only has the best interest of the child in mind.”

“You evil witch,” said Mariah.

Donna raised an eyebrow at me and Jess. “Takes one to know one.”

“You’re out of your mind,” I said.

“That’s you and your little town too.”

Max stepped forward. “You don’t know anything about St. Seb.”

She pouted at my son. “Oh, you don’t think so? How about women who think they’re witches? Or ghosts? Or a voodoo priestess?”

Jess and I looked at each other confused. Voodoo priestess? Who thought they were witches? Not us.

“We don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Mark. “You are a crackpot.”

“You don’t know but I do,” said Donna the Mistress of Death. “I’ll be posting all about your seedy little town and the insanity running through the ranks at Number Eight. That’s what you call it, right?”

“You can’t do that,” said Henri.

“I can and I definitely will.” She took a puff off her vape pen and then blew a stream of vapor straight up into the air. “Unless you back off that murderous lech.”

“What murderous lech?” Ava asked.

“Dr. Morris Miniver.”

The professor gasped. “What is she talking about?”

“Professor Miniver wasn’t either of those things,” I said.

“I think he was,” said Donna. “He murdered poor little Ginny because he was desperately in love with her.”

“Lies!” yelled Dr. Miniver.

“That’s nuts!” Max and Henri yelled. “He didn’t love her.”

“Oh, right.” She smiled. “Love isn’t good. He was obsessed with her. A stalker. He stole her panties and then he killed her.”

“I’m going to vomit,” said Dr. Miniver, but the kids relaxed and some chuckled a little.

“No one would believe that,” said Kelly. “It’s stupid.”

Donna took another puff and then said, “But I have a following. Subscribers.”

“So what!”

“If it’s on the internet, people will believe it. My niece is eating raw beef liver because some guy said it’s good for her. If a person can convince someone to do that, they can believe that a law professor who died when being questioned was a pervert.”

“Who is this creature?” Dr. Miniver asked.

I guess he’d never seen anything like Donna the Mistress of Death. I had. Derek had a few clients that had the same vibe, usually trophy wives but not always. Either way, those clients had the stank of privilege on them. They were used to getting their way, either by birth, luck, or force. It was all the same to them. Derek had to drop one client for nonpayment and the fifty-three-year-old tried to push his thirty-two-year-old wife down the elevator shaft at Derek’s office so he could sue him. It didn’t work out. Open elevator shafts aren’t a dime a dozen. He monkeyed with some sort of gadget he bought on the internet. It didn’t work and he just shoved her into the elevator. She broke her collarbone, but she didn’t die, although it sounded like she would from all the screeching.

Donna held her pose, unperturbed by the lack of response.

“What’s she waiting for?” Molly whispered.

“A bolt of lightning?” Kelly asked.

Mark got up and said in a gentle voice, “Perhaps you should leave.”

“Perhaps you should drop dead, Porky,” said Donna.

He turned to me. “Is she serious?”

“I think so,” I said. “Mrs. D’Angelo, thanks for coming by. We will consider your request.”

“No, we won’t,” said Henri.

“You suck,” said Max.

“Not helpful,” I said.

“She’s not saying that stuff about Dr. Miniver,” said Henri. “She can’t, right, Ava? It’s got to be slander or libel.”

“I don’t know if you can libel a dead person,” said Ava.

Josh came out of the booth, leaving the foam gapping open. “Are you Donna D’Angelo? What happened to you?”

Donna stabbed her vape pen at him and yelled, “I will end you!” Then she questioned Josh’s sexual orientation in ways I hadn’t heard in a few decades and even then it was middle school boys.

“Oh, hell, no,” said Mark, going for Donna, but the kids got in the way.

They stepped forward as if they were of one mind and they started pelting the podcaster with questions and accusations like two-year-olds on a sugar high.

“You’re all retards and idiots and morons!” she yelled.

“Don’t use that word!” Josh yelled back.

“Which one?”

“Figure it out!”

The law students went at her, using so many unfamiliar legal terms I’m convinced that they made a few of them up.

“You can’t sue me,” said Donna. “I can say whatever I want about that pervert.”

“You have no proof,” said one of the 2Ls.

“I have proof.” She smiled wickedly at him. “Written proof.”

Ava held out her hand. “Hand it over.”

“Fat chance, slant eyes.”

The gasp that came out of the kids and the adults ruffled my hair. She said it. She actually said it.

Jordyn emerged from the booth with her subject. Her cheeks were flaming red and she pointed a shaking hand at Donna. “Get out!”

Donna flung off her cape, revealing a silver, full-body catsuit that reminded me of Spanx. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the little oddball, trying to cut into my profit margin.”

“Oddball? Who are you calling oddball?” Max asked.

“Miss Depressive Episode. She’ll be the next off the bridge if her father doesn’t commit her in time.”

Jess started riffling through her purse.

“Pepper spray?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah.”

“I’m going to post about your mother’s suicide if you don’t back off my story,” said Donna. “I have a platform to protect and the will to do it.”

The kids all looked at Jordyn with varying degrees of horror and sympathy.

“It was an accident,” said Mariah.

“Carbon dioxide? I don’t think so.”

Mariah picked up a Stanley mug. She didn’t have much of a pitching arm, but I didn’t like Donna’s chances. I held up my hands. “That’s quite enough, Donna. This has been awful. Please leave.”

The podcaster held up her phone. “Tragic accident or deliberate death. The Marilyn Hicks Story. I come prepared.”

“You’re actually evil,” said Mark.

“I’m an influencer.”

“That might be the same thing in your case,” I said.

Mariah and Ava put their arms around the shaking Jordyn. She rallied and said, “The cops investigated. It was a faulty detector in her Airbnb.”

Donna sniffed. “Or was it? I find the truth. My subscribers count on it.”

“We’ll sue you,” said Ava.

That got a hearty laugh out of Donna the Mistress of Death. “Please. This is America and I’m rich.”

Dr. Miniver looked over at me. “She doesn’t know the law.”

“You don’t know the law,” I said.

She smiled at me with her perfectly bleached teeth. “I know the way it works. Shall I explain?”

“Get out before we call the cops,” said Mark.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Donna stuck out a hip. “This is why I win and why you’re going to stop cutting into my business. Seven years ago, I hired a highly rated contractor to redo my kitchen to the tune of sixty-five thousand dollars. I didn’t pay him. You see, the hinges weren’t quite the right color. They were supposed to be silver, not platinum. He sued me. I still haven’t paid a dime and he went bankrupt from legal fees. Get the picture?”

“Silver and platinum look the same,” said Kelly.

“I know and they were hidden hinges too, but I wasn’t satisfied so I didn’t pay,” said Donna.

“I bet you wrote it off on your taxes too,” said Mark.

She shot him with a pistol finger. “Now you’re gettin’ it.”

I looked over at Dr. Miniver.

“She is evil,” he said.

“That’s how the rich get rich and I intend to stay that way,” said Donna the Mistress of Death. “I’ll make you a generous deal. Stop everything you’re doing and I won’t post about the lunatic mothers over there or the suicidal one six feet under.”

“In the words of Popeye,” said Mark, “‘That’s all I can stands, I can’t stands no more.’”

Mark went for Donna and she instantly started yelling, “Don’t touch me! Assault! Assault!”

“There’s no assault!” yelled Ava. “And there’s a room full of witnesses.”

“Liars and unstable idiots,” said Donna.

Dr. Miniver went for her. The law professor launched himself at the podcaster like he was trying out for the pro wrestler hall of fame. He flew through the air with his corduroy jacket flapping in the wind, sailed through Donna the Mistress of Death, and landed in a tangle behind her. He may have muttered a low curse as Donna stalked toward Jordyn, Ava, and Mariah.

“Oh, my dear. I’m sure you’ll love life at your uncle’s unless this stops now!”

Dr. Miniver tried to pummel her with his fists to no avail. Susan ran out, yelling for security, and Mark cracked his knuckles, trying to decide what to do.

Donna spun around and came at Jess. “Tell your daughter to stop or⁠—”

“Hammala Anderson!” yelled Mariah.

“Oh,” said Donna. “She’s insane. That’ll make it so much easier.”

“Get her!” yelled Mariah.

Hambone let out a screaming gobble and puffed up to a level we’d never seen before. She spread her wings and went at Donna the Mistress of Death, flying through her, but unlike Dr. Miniver’s attempt, Donna felt it. She staggered back, letting out a whoosh of breath.

“Attack of the ham sammie!” yelled Max.

“Get her, Ham Steak!” yelled Henri.

Hambone charged across the conference room again, her beady eyes glowing, and I do mean that literally. She went after Donna’s legs above her silver booties and bits of stretchy fabric started flying. Donna screamed and danced around. Hambone bit her butt and held on.

Security ran in and got an eye full of a woman spinning in a circle, smacking her butt and screaming about someone pinching her. Security stood in the doorway with Mark, all their mouths hanging open.

“Do something!” Donna yelled. “It’s biting me! It’s biting me!”

They did nothing. There was nothing to do.

“Out!” yelled Mariah. “Make her leave!”

Hambone let go. When Donna stopped spinning, she went after her rear again. Biting. So much biting. Donna rammed through the security guards and we chased her through the lobby and out the automatic doors. Hambone stopped biting when she got to a BMW 7 Series. Donna yanked on the driver’s side door handle while yelling about revenge.

Josh ran out after her, throwing her cape and purse into the parking lot. “Oh yeah? Well, good riddance, ya looney!”

“Nice touch,” said Max.

“I think he just got cuter,” said Olivia.

“You must really like Toy Story,” said Mariah.

“It’s a classic.”

Donna grabbed her stuff and peeled out of the parking lot, leaving smoke from her tires behind. Josh walked back in to high fives and hugs from Olivia. I don’t know which he was more surprised by.

“What was that?” one of the security guards asked.

“Hard to say,” I said.

“Insanity?”

“Could be,” said Jess.

“Can you bar her from the hotel?” Mark asked. “She used multiple slurs and threatened the kids.”

“With what?” the other guard asked.

We told them everything Donna said and both guards were speechless. The manager showed up and we told her.

“She really said those things?” the manager asked.

“Yes and in case you’re thinking there’s some kind of excuse, there isn’t,” said Jess. “She meant every word.”

“Do you think she’ll call social services?”

I nodded. “I do.”

“Is any of it true?” the manager asked.

“The part where she’s evil,” said Mark with complete confidence. I appreciated it more than I can say.

“Social services could really cause a problem and the rest is awful to deal with,” said the manager, looking over at a tearful Jordyn. “Are you sure you want to do that podcast?”

Josh spoke up before anyone else could. “We’re doing it. You can’t let the bully win.”

Jordyn nodded and she seemed sure.

That got another hug and we all went back into the conference room. Hambone created herself a gorgeous and enormous nest on the coffee table and settled in for a nap as Susan pulled me aside. “I’m very proud of Josh, but that’s easy to say when we don’t have to live with the consequences.”

“I heard that, Mom,” said Josh.

“And I stand by it, honey,” said Susan.

“We’re going to beat her at her own game, Mom.”

Susan bit her lip.

“We’ll make the best podcast with the most social reach. I can use the algos to fight her. I know how. She’ll be the one looking bad, not us. Trust me.”

Max and Henri slung their arms around Josh’s shoulders.

“We trust you, man,” said Henri.

“You let loose the dogs of war,” said Max. “We’ll get back to work.”

Susan nodded and then we noticed a guy off to the side. Dr. Miniver was standing next to him and I thought he might be one of his students for a second but it was Jordyn’s interview.

“Hey, Darian,” I said. “Everything okay?”

“Can I write an article about this for the Daily Sun?” Darian asked.

“It’s not up to me.”

The entire group gave him a thumbs-up and he started jotting down notes. I was smiling until I saw Dr. Miniver’s face. I stepped outside and the glum professor followed me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“You saw that. I’m less useful than a turkey.”

“That was a surprise. She’s not usually aggressive.”

“That is not the point, Libby,” said Dr. Miniver.

“You’ll get there,” I said.

“When? I’ve been dead for over forty years.”

“All ghosts are different.”

The professor crossed his arms and did his version of a glare. It wasn’t very intimidating. “How different?”

I told him the short version of Leo’s journey and how he couldn’t be seen until we solved his murder and he allowed himself to know that the boy he considered a son killed him.

“It’s Ginny’s murder for me,” he said.

“I really don’t know,” I said.

“Have any of your ghosts moved on?”

“A couple.”

“That’s it?” His shoulders slumped and he fell backward into an easy chair.

I wanted to pat his back and tell him something reassuring, but I refused to lie. “Some don’t want to go. Leo doesn’t.”

“I do.”

“Then I hope you get what you want,” I said.

Laughter came through the doors to the conference room and I went back in, leaving Dr. Miniver brooding in his chair. Most of the kids were gathered around Mariah and Jordyn who were in front of a laptop, smiling and talking about ghosts, specifically turkeys.

“What’s going on here?” I asked.

Mariah turned the laptop around. Sam and Keely were on the screen with The Grind in the background.

“Ithaca sounds awesome!” the girls yelled.

“It is!”

Jess came over with our coats and purses. “We’re in with Dr. Bledsoe.”

“Does she know why we’re coming?” I asked.

“I think so.”

I looked over at Hambone who was preening on her nest. “Should we bring Hammie the Bull?”

Gobble.

“We can handle it,” said Jess.

Mark and Susan wished us luck and said they would hold down the fort while we were gone with the help of margaritas. I told Hambone to be ready in case we needed an attack turkey and I got an aggressive gobble in reply.

We left and Jess said, “We won’t need her. I have a good feeling about this.”

I glanced over at my friend. She looked better, almost normal. By normal, I mean the new normal, but that was pretty good.

“Good. I’m glad,” I said.

“I’m going to do better for Mariah.”

I opened up Google Maps and asked for the address. She gave it to me and I told her she was doing fine for Mariah.

“Not good enough,” she said. “She must be wanting to go so far away because of how I am so I have to do better. I have to stop being sad. I have to be normal.”

“Sad is normal. Mariah is sad. We’re all sad, even Max and Henri.”

“We weren’t going on a spring break trip because of me. They were right.”

“They didn’t complain,” I said. “Not a peep.”

A whisper of a smile appeared on her lips. “They would never complain, but it’s not fair on everyone to have me in bed crying all day.”

“Jess, it’s not about fair.”

“I’m going to be better so she doesn’t want to leave,” said Jess.

“That’s not it,” I said.

“You don’t know.” Jess looked out the window as I drove out of the parking lot. I couldn’t dispute what she said because I didn’t know and worse, I didn’t know how to find out why.

Chapter Eleven

Iparked in front of a large Gothic Revival Victorian house that was covered in gingerbread trim that made it look like a dollhouse perched on a long sloping lawn with a vintage MG circa 1955 parked next to it. The house had been beautifully maintained, despite being in Collegetown where most of the enormous houses got subdivided into apartments for students and weren’t in the best of repair.

The house at the address that Jess gave me had one other glaring difference. It was a fraternity with a set of enormous Greek letters lit up on the center gable and there were guys on the lovely porch standing around a pony keg, drinking out of large mugs. Another group was holding a kind of drunken wrestling tournament on the lawn and there was a guy wearing a bathrobe creeping across the roof of the porch. We watched him climb in a window or rather fall through a window. For a moment, his hairy legs and bare feet kicked around until he got himself inside.

“Are you sure this is the right address?” I asked Jess.

“I think so. Let me check.”

“Never mind.”

“Huh?”

Jess looked up and I pointed at the front door, where a guy in a letter sweater was walking out with a girl who wore a blouse with a Peter Pan collar and a long skirt with crinolines underneath. The skirt had a poodle on it. For real, it really did.

“I always thought that was more of a Hollywood invention,” said Jess. “They didn’t really wear them.”

“Poodle skirts?”

“Yeah.”

“Could be a costume party,” I said.

“Let’s see what happens,” said Jess.

We watched the couple come down the front steps and walk over to the MG. They got in and the engine roared. The guys at the keg didn’t pay any attention to the noise. Then the MG backed out of the driveway, and made a quick turn into our rental, coming right through the dashboard into our laps. I’d like to say I was so used to ghosts that I didn’t scream, but I’d be lying. I screamed. Jess screamed and we were both clawing at our doors trying to get out, but we didn’t even get them open before the MG sped away down the hill and out of sight.

Jess had a hand on her heart. “Oh, my god. That was… Oh, my god.”

“I think I peed a little,” I said.

“Same.”

We slowed our breathing and contemplated the house as a naked guy streaked across the lawn, wearing a long curly blond wig and holding a beer aloft.

“Do you think Dr. Bledsoe knows?” I asked.

“I seriously doubt it,” said Jess.

“She did agree to see us and it’s easy to find out about Number Eight and St. Seb.”

“Nobody who can see would live in a former frat,” said Jess. “Think of the mess and the smell.”

The streaker came around the house and went for another circuit.

“And the nudity,” I said, trying to wipe that image from my mind’s eye.

“There she is,” said Jess.

Dr. Bledsoe walked out onto the front porch with a pair of golden retrievers. Before she got to the railing, a group of frat boys wearing togas and laurels on their heads came out of the door and ran right through her to climb into a 1950s Ford Country Squire station wagon. They pulled out of the driveway much the way the MG had and Dr. Bledsoe was leaning on the porch railing, sniffing and making a face.

“They smell,” I said.

“I bet.”

We got out and went up the steps past the wrestlers who were oiling themselves up with butter.

“Dr. Bledsoe?” I called out.

The professor shook her head as if to clear the idea that she’d smelled something. “That’s me. Libby Forest and Jess Cleary?”

“That’s us,” said Jess.

We shook hands and the dogs sniffed us, leaving moist streaks. We gave them scratches as their owner evaluated us, possibly waiting for her dogs’ final approval, which they gave by jumping up and giving us slobbery kisses.

“Would you like to come in?” Dr. Bledsoe asked.

“Love to,” I said, fending off the love of a sixty-pound fluff ball.

She snapped her fingers and the dogs stopped instantly. “They like you.”

“Thank goodness,” said Jess. “What happens if they don’t?”

“You wouldn’t be coming in for one thing.” Dr. Bledsoe opened the door and we went in to a sight that was unexpected to say the least. Along with young men from various eras running up and down the stairs and through the entryway, there were dogs. So many golden retrievers I lost count after fifteen. They were all milling around and coming in for sniffs and love, giving me chills and an itchy feeling.

“Wow. You really like golden retrievers,” I said.

“A lot,” said Jess.

The professor eyed us. “Obviously. I have two.”

“Um… right,” I said with a shiver.

“Are you okay?” Dr. Bledsoe asked.

“We’re fine,” said Jess as she tried to hold steady as a golden leapt at her and tried to lick her cheek.

“Thanks for seeing us on such short notice and on a Saturday night too,” I said.

“Not much going on around here,” she said.

The streaker ran through the wall and down the hall, yelling, “You lose, Chip!”

Dr. Bledsoe sniffed. “Do you smell that?”

Oh, we smelled it. Body odor and booze with a hint of pot.

“I got a whiff of something,” said Jess.

She shook her head. “We can’t figure it out. My husband and I rehabbed this entire house, but we can’t find the source of that smell.”

“Weird,” I said.

“And now it’s gone. That is driving me crazy.” Dr. Bledsoe led us into a sitting room that was beautifully decorated in period furniture and more dogs. She indicated a settee for us and two elderly goldens obligingly jumped off when we went to sit down. The professor sniffed again.

“I need to give them baths more often.” She scratched the live dogs and asked them why they were so smelly while three boys in old-fashioned suits and straw boaters sang “Hello! Ma Baby” in the far corner in perfect harmony. On the other side of the room were a couple of guys on a disgustingly dirty sofa carving a bong out of an eggplant. I don’t know why. There was a perfectly good glass one on the floor at their feet.

“They’re beautiful dogs,” I said.

“They are good boys. I always have good boys,” said Dr. Bledsoe and at least twenty goldens turned to her and started wagging furiously.

“We can see that,” said Jess.

“I hear you two have been busy,” said the professor. “The chimes fiasco, for starters.”

“We do love the chimes,” I said.

“Your sons especially.”

“It’s in their blood.”

“I heard that. They seem to have a lot of talents,” said Dr. Bledsoe.

I couldn’t tell if she meant that as a good thing or a bad thing. She was, as described, a stern woman with her face resting in lines of disapproval when not actively smiling.

“The word is out,” said Jess. “Max and Henri are a force.”

“I heard about the podcast they’ve decided to do,” she said. “Donna the Mistress of Death won’t be happy.”

“She already isn’t,” I said. “She paid us a visit tonight.”

“What was that like?”

“Bizarre.”

“An apt description of her,” said Dr. Bledsoe.

“You’ve met?” Jess asked.

“Unfortunately.”

“What did she want?”

The professor leaned back and crossed her arms. “I’m not sure. She has a way of not saying anything of substance while using as many words as possible.”

“She is…interesting,” I said.

“She is a manipulative, narcissistic reptile.”

“A better description than mine.”

One of the live goldens jumped onto the settee and draped himself over our laps, winning a brief smile from his owner.

“What did she do?” Jess asked.

Dr. Bledsoe ticked off a list of Donna the Mistress of Death’s mistakes. “She lied about why she wanted an interview, twisted my words, claimed to have information that she clearly didn’t have, and accused my family of colluding with my brother in his numerous issues.”

“Oh, is that all?” I asked.

“And then she threatened me.”

“With what?” Jess asked.

“With exposing my alternative lifestyle,” said Dr. Bledsoe with an exasperated smile.

We glanced around at the beautiful room and the professor herself. If there was something alternative about her, I couldn’t detect it, other than the ghost issue, but Donna couldn’t see so that wasn’t it.

“I give up,” said Jess. “What did she accuse you of?”

“I’m a cross-dressing lesbian, married to a trans man, who damaged her son by breastfeeding him too long,” she said.

“I don’t know how to unpack that.”

“Do people still say cross-dresser?” I asked.

“That’s not the point,” said Dr. Bledsoe.

“I know. It’s just odd that she used cross-dresser and trans.”

“Everything is odd about her.”

“So she said she was going to do a podcast about you?” Jess asked after the golden gave her a slurp across the chin.

“Yes, and she has a lot of subscribers. I was supposed to be intimidated,” said Dr. Bledsoe.

A handsome man in jeans and a pink polo walked in with a tray holding a silver teapot, cups, and cookies. “She wasn’t.”

“This is my husband, Galey.”

“I’m not trans by the way, just pretty, and named Galey,” he said with a broad smile. “It’s a family name. I’m the fifth one.”

A group of frat guys ran through, pointing and yelling about his name with raucous laughter.

“That must’ve been interesting growing up,” I said.

“One way to put it. I never thought my name would be used against my wife,” said Galey. “That was a new one.”

“None of it is true,” said Dr. Bledsoe. “But Donna isn’t much concerned with truth. I just like pantsuits and our son is a six four pediatric oncologist so I think breastfeeding him for eighteen months didn’t do him any harm.”

“You don’t look surprised by all this information,” said Galey.

We told them about our interaction with Donna the Mistress of Death and it left them both shaking their heads and the dogs baring their teeth.

“What is wrong with that woman?” Galey asked.

“I neither know nor care,” said his wife. “More tea?”

She freshened up our tea as the ghost goldens tried to slurp it out of our cups. They were very juicy and it was hard not to grimace at the flying saliva.

“So why did you agree to see us?” I asked. “Our kids are doing a podcast too.”

“My teaching assistant vouched for you and I looked you up.”

“That would put some people off,” said Jess.

“Not us,” said Galey. “I’m intrigued. So you see ghosts?”

“Yes,” I said.

Dr. Bledsoe’s brows shot up. “You don’t deny it?”

“What would be the point? We are who we are.”

The couple exchanged glances. A decision was being made, but I couldn’t tell exactly what was on the table.

“I say do it,” said Galey.

“As you wish,” said Dr. Bledsoe. “What do you want to know? No runarounds. I’ve had enough of that.”

Jess took a sip of her tea and we both mulled it over. What to say? Where to start? Donna the Mistress of Death did everything wrong, but that didn’t mean we could succeed where she failed.

“How do you feel about your brother?” Jess asked and I held my breath.

“Hate him. Next?”

Wise choice. Go Jess.

“You don’t mind us asking questions about his possible involvement in Ginny Cushing’s death?” I asked.

“I certainly do not because my brother is also a manipulative, narcissistic reptile.”

“Amen,” said Galey.

“Did Donna mention Ginny?” Jess asked.

“She did, but everything she said was roundabout. I gathered that she thinks a Cornell professor did it and my so-called brother covered it up for a boost in his grades,” said Dr. Bledsoe.

“That’s not possible?”

“He graduated last in his class. What do you think?”

I took a breath and went for it. “We think Todd murdered Ginny.”

The couple froze for a minute.

“Sorry if that offends you,” I said.

“It doesn’t,” said Galey. “But why would you think that? It was a suicide. The cops did an investigation. I looked into it after Donna was here.”

“They didn’t have all the information,” said Jess.

Dr. Bledsoe spooned some sugar into her cup and slowly stirred it. “Did a ghost tell you that?”

“Yes,” I said.

More stirring.

“Is that a problem?” Jess asked.

“I don’t believe you,” said Dr. Bledsoe.

“Is it necessary that you do?” I asked and Galey smiled.

“Not for me, but my wife is a tougher customer,” he said.

She nodded and stirred, a little angrily to my eye.

“Sweetie,” said Galey. “They did solve that college student’s murder and it was a very cold case.”

“I’m not saying you don’t have skills,” said Dr. Bledsoe. “I just don’t think seeing the dead is one of them.”

Her husband took a cookie and said, “So convince us. You must have some way to do that.”

“Okay.” I glanced over at the barbershop quartet, who were practicing scales. “This was once a frat house, starting maybe in the 1920s.”

“Anyone could find that out,” said Dr. Bledsoe.

“That’s true, but we didn’t Google your house,” said Jess.

“We knew you like goldens,” I said.

She pointed at the living dog on our laps. “Not a hard conclusion to come to.”

“There are over fifteen golden retrievers in this room,” said Jess, giving the good boy a scratch and causing his tail to thump me on the chest. “That’s why you have that smell and think this guy needs a bath. It’s not him. It’s them.”

The professor sighed. “That is ridiculous.”

“Sometimes pets stay as well as people,” I said. “They love you.”

She was unconvinced, but Galey glanced around and sniffed. We were getting there with him.

“What else have you got?” Dr. Bledsoe asked with a challenge in her voice.

I shifted in my seat and called out, “Hey you!”

The bong guys looked up, startled.

“What are you doing?” the professor asked. “Don’t try to say there are ghosts in here with us.”

“I’m not going to try,” I said with a smile. “I’m going to succeed. You two! Stop that and come over here.”

One of the guys looked at me with glassy eyes, then fell over and rolled onto the floor. The other stared with his lighter poised for another hit.

“You can do that later,” said Jess. “We need a little help.”

The ghost smiled and stood up. “I like the sound of that. What do you have in mind, chica?”

“Don’t get any ideas,” I said.

“I’m full of ideas.”

“I bet. Did you die of an overdose?”

He looked over at his companion. “Rich did. I got cancer.”

“Sorry,” I said.

The ghost shrugged. “I still get to see the sexy chicas.”

“Whatever,” said Jess.

“Who are you talking to?” Galey asked.

Jess told him and he got very uncomfortable. Dr. Bledsoe just rolled her eyes.

“He can’t see me,” said the ghost. “But I see him all the time.”

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Gary, but they call me the slayer.” He lifted his tee to expose some impressive abs.

Oh dear lord.

“That’s—”

“Because I’m a lady killer.” The slayer ran his hand through his feathered hair and winked at us.

“Alright, Gary,” I said. “What can you tell me about those two that we couldn’t possibly know?”

“He wears tiny underwear,” said Gary. “Like a girl.”

“What do they look like?” Jess asked.

Dr. Bledsoe put a hand over her eyes. “They’re as insane as that Donna creature.”

Gary pointed at her. “She buys them for him. They look like girl’s bikini bottoms. They’re freaks. I don’t wear underwear. Wanna see?”

“I really don’t,” said Jess and then she looked at Galey. “You wear bikini briefs.”

Galey sucked in a breath, but his wife quickly said, “Give me a break. Lots of men wear those.”

“No, they don’t,” said Gary. “I don’t.”

He began to unbutton his incredibly tight bellbottoms.

“Stop that,” I said. “We need more info.”

“What’s he wearing right now?” Jess asked.

Gary snorted. “You chicas are no fun.”

“We’re moms. It’s in the job description,” I said.

“We used to be fun,” said Jess. “I was particularly crazy. Once when I was in London⁠—”

“Another time, Jess,” I said.

“Oh, right. But I was all fun all the time.”

“I believe you,” said Galey.

“You would,” said Dr. Bledsoe.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that we’re sitting here talking to women who are talking to the wall and you’re on board.” The professor stood up. “I think we’ve heard enough.”

“Gary,” said Jess. “What is Galey wearing right now?”

“If you show your⁠—”

“Gary, I swear I will sic these dogs on you,” I said.

He sniffed and picked up his eggplant bong. “Those dogs don’t pay attention to anything but her.”

I snapped my fingers and whistled. The live dog on our laps jumped off and started spinning. “Come on, you good boys. How are all the good boys?”

All the golden retrievers, dead and alive, focused on me. The quartet in the corner stopped singing. “She commands the dogs,” they whispered to each other.

“What are you doing?” Galey asked.

“Considering telling your wife’s many dogs to go after Gary,” I said.

“Gary?”

“I also have a turkey I can pull out. Shall I call the turkey, Gary?”

“A flipping turkey?” Gary asked. “What kind of a punk do you think I am?”

“Hard to say, but she got rid of Donna the Mistress of Death so I think she can cause you a serious problem.”

Dr. Bledsoe picked up her phone. “I will call 911 if you don’t leave now.”

Gary pointed at her. “She wants you to leave.”

“What do all the good boys think?” I asked the dogs. “Is that a good boy or is he a bad boy?”

“So stupid. I’m not⁠—”

All the goldens bared their teeth.

“What the heck?” Galey asked. “They never do that. The boys are about as vicious as stuffed animals.”

“What are you doing to my dogs?” Dr. Bledsoe flushed and her hands went into fists.

“It’s what they will do to Gary,” said Jess.

“They can’t do anything,” said Gary. “I’m dead.”

I held up a hand with my fingers ready to snap. “Let’s test the theory, shall we?”

“I’ll just leave.”

“And go somewhere the good boys can’t?”

Gary backed up, ran into the gross sofa, and sat down with a thump. “Fine. Fine. He’s wearing Christmas panties because he didn’t do the laundry and she was pissed because it’s his job. I don’t know why it’s his job. She’s the girl. And he cooks too and I saw him vacuuming last week. It was embarrassing.”

“When did you die?” Jess asked.

“1981.”

“That explains it,” I said.

Jess repeated what Gary said and Dr. Bledsoe had to sit down. “I can’t believe it.”

“Tell me there’s only Gary in here,” said Galey.

The streaker ran through, holding his fingers in Vs for victory. “Give peace a chance, man!”

Jess and I looked at each other.

“There’s only Gary in here.”

It took a while to get the Bledsoes calmed down, but by the time we did, we had quite an audience. It turned out they had inadvertently restored the most haunted house in Ithaca. The Victorian had been a family home until the fraternity bought it in 1920 and it remained in their hands for sixty-five years until it was deemed a safety hazard. After that, it sat empty except for the ghosts who had a particular fondness for it, even ghosts that had no connection in life preferred it to other houses. Gary said it had good vibes and I’d say he was right. The Bledsoes’ house felt good, less so for them now that they knew they weren’t alone. Galey insisted we tell them the truth and against my better judgment, we did.

Our audience for the story of Todd West included a carriage driver from Cornell’s beginnings. He drove exclusively for President Andrew Dickson White and had lots to say about his boss. There were several young women in hoop skirts, who kept giggling behind fans. All the frat boys from the porch and yard came in. They were from various eras and hadn’t known each other in life. We had a couple flappers, but they bored easily and were now in the dining room, dancing the Charleston on the table. There was a cleaning lady who thought they were all disgusting animals and a pet raccoon named Franklin the fraternity had in 1952.

“And that’s everybody?” Dr. Bledsoe asked.

“So far,” I said.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Rich left, but I assume he’ll be back,” said Jess.

“I can’t. This is insane,” said the professor.

I shrugged. “I told you that you didn’t want to know.”

“Are the dogs still here?” Galey asked.

“Oh, yeah,” said Jess. “One’s peeing on the lamp in the corner.”

Dr. Bledsoe went a shade paler. “What does that one look like?”

“Smaller than the rest and he’s got a black spot on his back fur.”

“Topper. I can’t believe he’s still peeing in the house.”

“That guy was never really trained,” said Galey.

“I feel lightheaded,” she said.

He put his arm around his wife. “Can we start with what you know about Todd? I think we need a moment.”

We told them what Dr. Miniver said and Dr. Bledsoe clenched her fist. “Toddy. I should’ve suspected.”

“Toddy?” Jess asked.

“My parents’ nickname for Todd. He calls himself Hot Toddy.”

Jess and I wrinkled our noses, but Gary and the frat guys thought it was hilarious.

“I know,” said Dr. Bledsoe. “He’s insufferable, but my parents loved him or maybe worshipped is a better way to put it.”

“That’s why you hate him?” I asked.

“No. Todd earned it. I assure you.”

Dr. Bledsoe told us a tale that wasn’t very complicated. A pair of successful but average looking parents had three girls who were equally average and then, by some miracle, long after giving up on having a boy, they had a late-in-life pregnancy and produced a beautiful child. Todd was the kid that had people stopping his mother in the street so they could admire him and he was charming too. The parents spoiled him rotten. They were sensible with their girls, but Toddy had the best of everything. Designer clothes. Private school. A car for his sixteenth birthday. When the girls complained, they would say, “But you know how these things matter to Toddy and you girls never cared about brands.”

“We never had the option to care,” said Dr. Bledsoe. “It wasn’t on the table for us. My sister was a tennis champion in high school and college. She got group lessons at the club. Toddy was mediocre and he got private. He never excelled at anything. He didn’t have to.”

“I know my wife sounds bitter, but Todd was a complete weasel. The first time I met the family we went swimming and I caught Todd stealing money out of my wallet. My dad was a janitor. I worked my way through college by bartending. That was all the money I had. Minimum wage was two ninety in 1979 and college kids don’t tip worth a crap.”

“Ya, we don’t.” The frat guys high-fived each other and the cleaning lady started chasing them around with a broom. “You filthy beggars!”

The girls in hoopskirts wanted to know what a tip was and Gary was happy to explain things to them. They thought his jeans were quite daring and wanted to know if he was a cowboy. He said he was. Todd wasn’t the only weasel.

Jess went over to explain that Gary was a dirtbag and I asked Dr. Bledsoe to continue.

“I made him give it back, but Joanna’s parents thought I was lying.”

Dr. Bledsoe sighed. “Because, of course, Toddy wouldn’t do such a thing, but he stole all the time. Mom was forever saying, ‘Oh, I thought I had a twenty. When did I spend that?’”

“She never caught on?” I asked.

“Never did. Todd could do no wrong. If he got caught cheating in school, the teacher was lying. Todd was obviously a genius. His grades were crap, so they were obviously holding his talents against him. Nothing was ever Toddy’s fault.”

Jess came back and sat down. “How in the world did he get into Cornell?”

“We couldn’t figure that out. He got into Penn State because of legacy. It was our parents’ school and he was on academic probation almost the whole time. It took an extra year for him to get through.”

Jess turned to me. “Can you cheat on the LSAT?”

“Sure,” I said. “There was that scandal a few years ago with the parents paying other people to take their kids’ SATs so I’m sure it could be managed back then. Fake IDs aren’t new.”

“That’s what my sisters and I thought, but our parents just believed Todd’s genius was shining through. We would’ve been sad for them if we weren’t so disgusted.”

“They really loved him,” said Jess.

“He was very lovable,” said Dr. Bledsoe.

“Really?”

She nodded. “All big eyes and curly blond hair. He could be so sweet and cuddly when he wanted something. We saw through it quick. My oldest sister had to babysit him and when my parents would come home, Todd would tell them that Carrie hit him. They would be furious and ground her. Then they would take Todd for ice cream.”

“You didn’t tell them it was a lie?”

“We did, but they didn’t believe a little boy would lie about things like that. They turned him into a monster and it never got any better. When he got divorced, they paid for his lawyers and paid his child support so he could see the kids. Todd didn’t care if he saw the kids or not. I saw them more than he did. I still do. They’re great thanks to Anne.”

“Did you see him after Ginny died?” I asked.

The couple snorted in unison.

“That’s why I should’ve known,” said Dr. Bledsoe. “My parents insisted my sisters and I go to his graduation. We just had to celebrate Toddy. Never mind that he never went to any of ours and we were all summa cum laude.”

“How was he? That would’ve been about eight weeks after Ginny died?”

“Something like that, but you’d never have known she even existed.”

“Did he talk about her at all?” Jess asked and I could see sadness coming to press down on her. Hal was always there and it hurt her to think Ginny wasn’t mourned the way she deserved.

“Not by choice. He had Anne hanging all over him. When they showed up at dinner, he was driving her car, a brand-new white BMW. The one he always told us he’d get after graduation.”

“I guess that’s one way to get your dream car,” said Galey.

“Anne was a brilliant girl. I just don’t understand how he got his hooks into her or Ginny Cushing for that matter,” Dr. Bledsoe said.

“Your mom asked him about Ginny, didn’t she?” Galey asked.

“Oh, yeah. Mom had this weird thing about how if only Toddy had been there, he could’ve stopped Ginny. Mom really dwelled on that.”

“How did she know he wasn’t there?” Jess asked.

“My parents said he was at home for spring break,” said Dr. Bledsoe. “He probably told the cops that.”

“Would they lie for him?” I asked.

“Absolutely. If he told them he was home, they’d have sworn on a stack of Bibles that they saw him there, and get this, when Anne went to the bathroom during dinner, Mom asked Todd about Ginny and he acted like he barely knew her,” said Dr. Bledsoe.

“But you knew he did?” I asked.

“Are you kidding? He was crazy about her. Mom thought they would get married and she was so excited because the Cushings were really something. It was always Ginny this and Ginny that. When we were in New York this and when we visited the Hamptons that. He couldn’t shut up about her. We all should’ve known something was weird, but the cops said it was a suicide. Todd told Mom that Ginny was failing out and didn’t get a job for the summer so she killed herself. He made it sound like she was a loser, but I never had that impression before.”

“Ah, that’s where that came from,” said Jess.

“What?” Galey asked.

“Dr. Miniver said that the cops told him that Ginny didn’t have a job when he knew she had a great one in DC.”

“He lied,” announced the carriage driver. “All rich men lie.”

“Well, he wasn’t rich, but he definitely lied and gave the cops a motive.”

Galey squeezed his wife’s shoulders. “But why kill her? I know you said Dr. Miniver thought it was about her father not giving him a job, but Todd was never violent that I know of.”

Dr. Bledsoe nodded. “Todd’s a lot of things—and I do mean a lot—but I’ve never known him to be violent. And to be honest, would he really think her father would give him a job? He barely graduated.”

One of the frat boys walked back in after evading the cleaning lady. “He was probably desperate. You’ll believe anything when you’re desperate.”

“Is someone saying something?” Galey asked.

“A frat boy,” said Jess.

“I was more than that,” he said with a winning smile. “I graduated top ten percent in 1953 and worked at Kodak as a chemist. I have six patents to my name and twenty-six grandchildren.”

“Why are you here then?” I asked.

He smiled. “Best time of my life.”

I told them what he said and the couple warmed to at least one ghost.

“Did your parents talk to the Cushings after Ginny died? There was a memorial,” I said.

“They didn’t know what happened until after it was all over,” said Dr. Bledsoe.

“Because Todd didn’t tell them,” said Galey with a sneer.

“They said he just couldn’t handle telling them, but after graduation I thought it was because he didn’t care.”

“And now?” Galey asked gently.

“Because he did it.”

The living were quiet, but the ghosts weren’t. They were incensed that Todd killed Ginny and got away with it. I got the feeling that not everyone in the room died of natural causes, but no one said it outright. I leaned back on the settee with a cup of cold tea in my hands.

“I wonder if he had any feelings about her at all,” said Jess.

“You can drive over and ask him,” said Dr. Bledsoe.

“Huh?”

“Todd is here in Ithaca,” said Galey.

“Seriously? We couldn’t figure out where he went after he left the personal injury firm,” I said.

“He didn’t leave. They fired him for misappropriation of funds,” Dr. Bledsoe scoffed.

“Why isn’t he in jail?” Jess asked.

“They didn’t want the scandal, but Todd had to repay everything which wiped him out financially, but he landed on his feet.”

“Thanks to your parents,” said Galey.

The soft-hearted Wests bought Todd a Victorian in Ithaca where he could live and rent out the rooms. They were long retired by then and were on a fixed income, but they bought him a large property and it supported him until their deaths.

I winced. “What happened then?”

“Guess.”

“He inherited everything?” I asked.

“Well, you see I have a husband and so do my sisters. Poor Toddy has no one,” said Dr. Bledsoe with a fluttering hand on her chest. “And he’s struggling. They had to give him the majority.”

“How much was the majority?” Jess asked.

“Eighty-five percent and our family home. He sold it and bought a house on Shore Drive with cash. My sister Tina—she’s the nice one—thought he wouldn’t take the entire amount. She thought he would be fair, considering how our parents gave him the Victorian, paid his child support, and who knows what else.”

“I’m guessing that got a big, fat no,” I said.

“He laughed and acted like she was joking. Tina was crying and he laughed. She’s an elementary school teacher and she can’t afford to retire.”

“And that’s why you and your sisters wiped out your maiden names?” asked Jess.

“It was one betrayal too many. They loved him, not us. We didn’t matter and now they don’t either. I only wish I could tell them that.” Dr. Bledsoe didn’t cry. She looked on the verge of screaming and I didn’t blame her. The goldens crowded around, anxiously trying to comfort the one they adored.

“If there’s anything we can do to nail him to the wall, let us know,” said Galey.

“His address would be helpful.”

He gave it to us and Dr. Bledsoe said, “I hate him and if he killed Ginny Cushing, I’ll be lining up to testify against him.”

Galey walked us to the door and we went out into the chilly night with soft snowflakes coming down and covering our car.

“We have to get him, Libby,” said Jess.

I took her arm. “If he did it, we will.”

Chapter Twelve

Ididn’t open my eyes the next morning until ten and I didn’t get out of bed until eleven. We didn’t expect it to be an early night with podcast central going on in the conference room, but when we returned from Dr. Bledsoe’s house, a full-on dance party was going on.

Jess and I joined the hotel manager in the wide double doors to watch members of Delta Sigma Theta teaching a stepping routine to the crowd that had quadrupled since we left and included members of several sororities and fraternities as well as more parents and grandparents.

The Magnificent Mu Gamma, as they were known, had most of the room moving in perfect rhythm to “Salute” by Little Mix. They were truly magnificent in their ability to get Mark in perfect coordination with Ava and Henri, despite his raucous laughter.

I was worried about what the manager would say, but she had a smile on her face as she said, “I don’t think I agreed to this.”

“Should we stop it?” Jess asked.

“Are you kidding? Your kids got so many other guests involved, I’d be a real killjoy.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” I said.

“Indeed. Plus, tonight we’re the fun hotel. You can’t buy that publicity,” she said, showing us some YouTube videos of the entire group stepping together, ages five to eighty-five. “Your boys and that Mark know how to bring a group together.”

“It’s a gift.”

“Yes, it is.”

Ava and Kelly ran over to pull us into the group, but I demurred since Dr. Miniver was standing off to the right with a bewildered expression.

“You’ll take him?” Jess asked, taking the arm of the manager to force her into joining in.

“Sure.”

The girls got her onto the floor and into the rhythm easily as I explained what we’d found out. The professor shook his head in sadness. If he’d known what Todd was like, he would’ve told Ginny. It all could’ve been avoided.

“Have you found anyone who was there that night?” I asked, to turn his attention to something he could affect.

“I haven’t.”

“How about you go over to Dr. Bledsoe’s and see if any of the ghosts over there saw anything?”

“I wouldn’t wish to intrude on their privacy,” he said rather primly.

“They have zero privacy and you’re not there to intrude. Dr. Bledsoe and Galey want to get Todd as badly as we do.”

“So sad that a sister should feel that way about her only brother,” he said.

“I think he earned it.”

Dr. Miniver nodded and popped out. That’s when I saw Mariah next to the recording booth with Hambone. The turkey liked the music and she bobbed up and down with the rhythm, eying the crowd with intensity. Mariah was not nearly so into it. She was mostly concealed, looking like she did when Jess trimmed her toenails when she was little. Being brave, but absolutely expecting to lose a toe.

I went over to sit next to her. “Not what you were going for on this trip, huh?”

“Nothing about this trip is what I was going for.”

That hurt my heart, but Mariah didn’t sound bitter, more resigned.

“Sorry about that,” I said.

“You’re not going to ask what I was going for?”

“Nope.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“It is fun though,” I said as the song ended and everyone high-fived.

She nodded and I asked if she was okay.

“It’s fine.”

I put an arm around her shoulders. “I suspect it isn’t.”

Dr. Miniver popped in and shook his head. “No one at the Bledsoes’ house was on campus.”

“That sucks,” said Mariah.

“I didn’t have my hopes up,” said the professor but I could tell he had by the disappointment in his eyes.

“Sorry,” I said. “But something will turn up.”

He nodded without conviction and popped out.

Mark saw us speaking to no one, but he didn’t appear disconcerted. He announced he was choosing the next song, getting good-natured jeers. I smiled, but my stomach clenched when I heard the first notes. Mark got into the center of the floor and started stepping to “Don’t Pull Your Love.” Parents and grandparents joined him and sang the happiest don’t-break-up-with-me song ever, but I didn’t really see them. I was seeing Derek sing that song to me from the balcony of Red Barn after we had a fight about doing dishes or something stupid.

Jess turned around and saw my face. Then she mouthed, “You okay?”

I nodded and put on an expression that was probably pretty close to Mariah’s toenail trimming face.

“What’s wrong?” Mariah asked.

“Nothing. Just a memory. It’s fine,” I said.

She leaned into me. “I suspect it isn’t.”

I told her about the song and she asked if I sang back.

“Why do you ask?”

“Mom told me you used to do that,” said Mariah.

“‘That Don’t Impress Me Much’,” I said.

Mariah laughed and said, “Did that teach him?”

“He was unteachable, much like Max and Henri.”

The Eggs were off to the left, teaching some elementary-aged kids to do the dance with a couple of sorority girls. The kids were laughing and beaming, just like at the birthday parties the boys threw.

“I don’t know how they do it,” said Mariah.

“What?”

“Be sunny-side-up all the time.”

“They feel things. They just don’t dwell on them,” I said.

“I wish I could do that.”

I squeezed her shoulders again. “Max and Henri aren’t fighting your battle. Don’t hold yourself to their standard. It’s unfair to you.”

“I’m going up to bed. Tell everyone I’ve got a headache.”

I told her I would and she got out just in time. The boys came for me and soon I was learning the routine. The only way to fight old memories is to make new ones so I did, but it was exhausting.

Jess got out of bed when I did, but Mariah pulled a pillow over her head, croaking something about sleep. The two of us staggered down to the breakfast room to find only the dregs of eggs and sad pancakes left on the buffet.

“There’s coffee.”

We turned around to find Mark sitting at a table alone with a laptop and a briefcase open.

“Are you working?” I asked.

“Emails and canceling our other tours,” he said.

“Is that because we keep keeping you up til all hours?” Jess asked.

He yawned and then said, “It’s because Olivia and Isabelle are happy and they don’t have any interest in going to Syracuse or Rochester or anywhere else. Neither do I, truth be told.”

We got large cups of coffee with ridiculous amounts of cream in them and sat down with him.

“Are you saying we’re too much fun and you don’t want to leave?” I asked before I yawned myself.

“You are, but that’s not why,” he said.

“Why then?” Jess asked.

“I want to see how it turns out.”

“The podcast?”

He closed his laptop. “Your mission for Dr. Miniver.”

We sat there for a minute, sipping our coffee.

“I believe that you see ghosts,” he said.

“Does everyone know that we’re trying to help the professor?”

“Everyone that counts,” said Mark.

“And you really believe us?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Any particular reason?” Jess asked.

“I’m a restaurateur,” said Mark. “I’ve worked with my share of liars and lunatics and I’ve gotten pretty good at spotting both. You two are neither.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I thought you were going to tell us you had an experience.”

“I did. My grandfather was part of D-Day. He landed at Omaha Beach. For his eightieth birthday, we took him to visit the graves of his friends who hadn’t survived,” said Mark.

“What happened?” Jess asked.

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Bad?”

“No,” said Mark with a smile. “It just felt like a dream. We were standing at the grave of his best friend and I had the strangest sense that there were hundreds of men standing around us and I could almost see them out of the corner of my eye.”

“Did you smell anything?” I asked.

“How did you know?”

“It’s a thing that happens sometimes.”

“I could smell something sweet like cake and definitely flowers. There was coffee and I swear to god, whiskey.”

“That’s interesting,” said Jess.

“Everyone smelled it. There were flowers, of course, but no cake and certainly not coffee or whiskey. It was strong. Everyone thought we’d gone crazy. If that happened, and they were there, why wouldn’t it be sweat, smoke, and gunpowder?”

“They gave you what they liked, not what they didn’t,” I said.

Mark wiped his eyes. “I never thought about it that way.”

“You okay?”

He nodded and cleared his throat before saying, “So I hear you got some information last night from your suspect’s sister?”

We gave him a brief description of what we found out as the coffee kicked in. The law students had found Julie’s phone number through an alumni group and I checked the time.

“Should we go for it?” I asked. “Might be a good time. Before dinner.”

“I hope she’s easy to convince,” said Jess. “I don’t have the energy for hostile.”

On that note, I dialed and put my phone on speaker. Julie didn’t answer and I left a message, saying who we were and what we were trying to do. By the time I’d gotten some snacks out of the vending machine and a second cup of coffee, my phone was ringing.

“It’s her,” said Jess.

I took a breath and answered. “Hello. This is Libby Forest.”

There was a pause and then a man said, “This is Julie Strachey’s husband, Cory.”

We glanced at each other. That was unexpected and I wasn’t sure if it was a bad sign or not.

“Hi, Mr. Strachey,” I said. “You got my message.”

“I did. My wife is in the shower and I wanted to call you back before she had a chance to stop me.”

“Um… why would she stop you?”

“Because Julie’s an avoider. She’ll avoid anything stressful if you give her a chance,” said Mr. Strachey.

“And you didn’t want her to avoid us?” I asked.

“I didn’t want her to avoid Ginny Cushing’s death. It’s haunted her for forty years and it’s time to face it.”

“Music to our ears,” said Jess and she introduced herself and Mark as well.

Mr. Strachey told us what he knew, which was very little. He met Julie ten years after Ginny died and she would barely discuss it then. Over the years, she’d gradually come to the conclusion that she and her friends were at fault for not stopping Ginny, not seeing the depression. Mr. Strachey always thought the suicide story had a lot of holes in it, but Julie believed it. She blamed herself and couldn’t be talked out of it.

“What holes?” Jess asked.

“Well, nothing Julie told me indicates that girl was going to throw herself off a bridge. I mean, that’s an extreme act. I looked it up. Women typically use less violent methods like drugs or carbon monoxide poisoning. How miserable does a girl have to be to throw herself off a bridge into an Ithaca gorge?”

“Pretty miserable,” said Jess.

“And nobody knew it?” Mr. Strachey asked. “Nobody? Come on.”

“I think we agree,” I said. “But some people are good at hiding things.”

“Hold on. Julie’s coming out.”

We listened to a conversation, where Julie Strachey wasn’t exactly thrilled with her husband, but he wasn’t one to give up and she finally got on the phone. We explained that we thought Todd West beat up Ginny and threw her off the bridge while she was incapacitated.

“It was suicide,” said Julie. “The autopsy proved it.”

“It proved she was alive when she hit the water,” I said. “It didn’t prove how she got there.”

Julie thought about it and then said, “I guess not.”

“The loss of the job prospects could’ve pushed Todd over the edge,” said Mark. “I’ve seen people lose it when they think they’re owed something and don’t get it.”

“What in the world do you think Ginny owed him?” Julie asked. “She didn’t have anything.”

I frowned. “Well, I guess it wouldn’t have been Ginny herself exactly, but it would’ve come through her.”

“What are you talking about?” Julie asked.

Jess told her about how we had it on good authority that Todd was out of Ginny’s league, but she had connections and that was why he dated her. She outlined his 1L and 2L internships or lack of as Dr. Miniver had explained it.

“Oh, you don’t know,” said Julie softly.

“Know what?” I asked, as Mr. Strachey asked the same thing.

“I guess it makes sense. It’s not like we were running around telling everyone. I’m not sure if anyone even told the cops. No one asked and we didn’t know when the detectives questioned us.”

Julie’s husband asked her what in the world she was talking about, but Julie was on a roll.

“I didn’t want to hurt her parents,” she said and her voice got choked up. “They were really nice. I can’t believe Ginny did that.”

“What did Ginny do?” I asked.

Julie told us about how she found out about Ginny’s suicide. A friend of a friend’s little sister stayed on campus during spring break and she started calling everyone. Julie’s parents brought her back to campus to be interviewed. That was on Monday. Stephanie and Connie showed up on Tuesday. They all told the same story. No depression. No problems that they knew of. Ginny was smart and on track.

She sniffed and began to cry. “I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t.”

“Honey,” said Mr. Strachey, “you didn’t answer the question.”

“What question?” Julie asked.

“You said Ginny did something.”

“Sorry.” Julie told us that she and the other friends met Ginny’s parents at the police station. Detective Tim Ridley asked if they would meet with them because they needed answers. The girls had no answers, but they agreed. When Ginny’s parents walked in, the girls were very confused. The Cushings weren’t what they expected, being sort of ordinary and wearing jeans and old sweaters.

“We heard they were casual,” I said.

“That’s one way to put it,” said Julie. “You could’ve picked my chin up off the floor when the detective introduced them.”

“Because of the clothes?” Jess asked.

“Because of their names. Ronald and Joyce.”

My chin was on the floor and so was Jess’. Mr. Strachey went off about leaving out details. Mark was less surprised though. He’d seen some things, I guess.

“So not that lawyer. What was his name?” he asked.

“Seaforth Cushing,” I said.

“That was supposed to be her father,” said Julie. “She lied.”

“Did she?” Mark asked.

“Of course she did. We all thought she was a Cushing, a real Cushing.”

Jess straightened up with a frown. “She was a real Cushing.”

“You know what I mean,” said Julie. “Ginny told us she was Virginia Cushing of the New York Cushings.”

“Are you sure about that?” I repeated what Dr. Miniver told us about how the law students asked Ginny about her name and her mother’s name.

“How in the world did you know that?” Julie asked. “There were only five of us there and a professor.”

“Dr. Miniver,” said Jess.

“Jesus, how do you know that? He died right after Ginny. There were rumors.”

“About what?” I asked.

“Dr. Miniver,” said Julie, “but it was stupid. Dr. Miniver was a sweetheart and he was away with his wife when it happened. He didn’t do anything to Ginny.”

“So people thought foul play was involved?” Mark asked.

Julie sighed. “We did, but that was before the autopsy came back. Then it was obvious. How did you know about that conversation? Who told you?”

“Confidential,” I said. “Was there any other reason you thought the suicide made sense?”

The detectives had told them that Ginny didn’t have a job for the summer and was exhibiting signs of depression.

“Do you know who told them that?” Jess asked.

“Her bastard of a boyfriend,” said Julie. “Todd West.”

“We heard that Ginny was staying on campus for spring break,” I said. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” said Julie. “She wanted to study and do practice exams. Ginny worked very hard. I think she was trying to rub off on Todd like that was possible.”

“Was he staying too?” Jess asked.

“Yes. Ginny said they were going to spend the week together studying, but when we were at the police station, I heard that he’d gone home instead. Some people said that was another reason she did it. So stupid.”

Mark got up and went for more coffee while we asked what Todd had said to her about Ginny. The answer was simple. Nothing. Todd avoided all Ginny’s friends like the plague and he didn’t even come to her memorial in the chapel. The girls that once envied Ginny came to feel sorry for her. Todd clearly didn’t care about their friend at all and he got a new girlfriend at lightning speed.

“Did you try to connect with him?” I asked.

“We did,” said Julie. “We were so upset and we wanted to know how we missed her depression, but Todd wouldn’t talk to us. He said we should get over it. He obviously had no trouble with that. He knocked up that undergrad quick.”

Mark poured us some coffee from a pot he’d gotten from a staff member and we updated him.

“There’s your motive,” he said, and in the background on Julie’s end, Mr. Strachey agreed.

“For her suicide?” Julie asked.

“No,” said Mr. Strachey. “For her murder.”

Julie scoffed. “How’d you get to that?”

“Todd thought Ginny was a real Cushing as you put it,” I said. “That’s why he dated her. He thought he had an in with a major firm and when he found out the truth, he lost it.”

“That’s not what happened,” said Julie. “Todd was at home.”

“Why? Because he said so?” Mark asked. “I like that motive. Men have killed for less. A lot less.”

“No, because Todd knew Ginny’s dad was a plumber.”

You don’t say.

“Oh, really,” I said. “How’d he know that?”

“She told him.” Julie explained that her friend Connie heard Todd talking about Ginny’s parents at a bar about a month later. The girls hadn’t told anyone else out of respect for her parents and as far as they knew, no one else had met them since campus was practically empty and they were back in Ohio having the funeral when the memorial at Cornell happened.

Connie cornered Todd and asked him if he met Ginny’s parents. He had but didn’t seem surprised in the least. When Connie pressed him about that, he said that Ginny had told him who her parents really were after they started dating. He said it wasn’t a big deal.

“Well, that’s bull,” said Mark.

“How do you know that?” Julie asked with surprise.

“She didn’t tell her friends, but she told her boyfriend?”

“It could happen.”

I looked at the ceiling and sighed. “But it didn’t.”

“I… I think it did,” said Julie, sounding less and less sure.

“Wasn’t Todd bragging about going to the Hamptons and New York with Ginny?” Jess asked.

Julie sucked in a breath, but she didn’t respond.

“We talked to Dr. Bledsoe last night,” said Jess. “Todd was very into dating a Cushing. He bragged to his family. He must’ve said that stuff around school.”

“Honey?” Mr. Strachey asked. “Are you okay?”

“I feel sick,” said Julie.

“That means he did it, right?” Mark asked.

“She’s nodding,” said Mr. Strachey. “I think we have to go. Do you need anything else?”

We said we’d call if we did and thanked them. We could hear Julie weeping as her husband hung up.

Jess kicked her feet up on a spare chair. “It can’t be a coincidence that the only person who knew about Ginny’s family is Todd.”

“I wish those girls had told the police,” said Mark.

“Water in the lungs,” I said. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

“But he’s the one that told the detectives that she didn’t have a job,” said Jess. “It might’ve got them asking questions. If they found out he lied…”

“Who knows,” I said. “There was a solution right in front of them. An easy answer. People like an easy answer.”

“Hopefully, they like the right answer better.”

“Depends on the person.” Mark’s phone dinged. “The kids are starving and they’re heading our way.”

“Which kids?” I asked.

“All of them.”

Across the lobby, the elevator doors opened and all the kids sans Mariah came out.

“They don’t give much warning,” said Jess.

“All the better to ambush us,” I said.

“Dad!” Olivia hustled over and held out her hand. “Can I have the keys? We want to go to Red Barn for lunch.”

Max and Henri yawned while saying something and Josh was marginally awake. His eyes were closed, but he was standing.

“Does your mom know you’re going?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“How does she know?”

“I told her.”

“Was she awake at the time?”

“Maybe,” said Josh with one eye open to a slit.

I texted Susan and she gave me a thumbs-up. “You’re good to go.”

Olivia held out her hand again. “Dad, come on. We have a schedule.”

“Do you now?” Mark asked. “I just canceled everything for the next three days.”

The kids did have a schedule. A podcast schedule. They had to eat and then film certain areas of campus where events took place, a vomiting here, a proposal there.

“What about Jordyn?” Jess asked. “Where does she fit in?”

“She’s waiting at Red Barn right now,” said Isabella. “We have to go.”

“And Mariah?”

“She’s super tired,” said Max and I saw a hint of worry in his eyes.

“But she’s cool,” said Henri with the same worry. “She’s totally down with us doing the filming without her.”

Mark yawned and stood up. “I will be driving you.”

“We don’t need a chaperon,” said Josh, leaning dramatically to the left.

“I can tell, but here’s the thing,” said Mark. “Olivia isn’t on the rental agreement.”

His daughter sniffed. “You don’t follow rules. The last two nights proved that.”

“I follow some rules as in legal ones. Fun ones are different.” He put his laptop in his briefcase. “Besides, I’m buying.”

“Awesome,” said Max. “We’re starving.”

“Hold on. I have to get my purse,” I said.

“Not a chance, Libby,” said Mark. “You’ve got work to do. I’ll wrangle this crew.”

The kids headed out before we could stop them with the girls guiding the exhausted Josh who kept listing to the left.

Jess grimaced. “Are you sure?”

“They’re practically a chip off the old block.” Mark picked up his bag. “I can handle them.”

He hurried out the front doors of the hotel and Jess said, “Famous last words.”

“Just what I was thinking,” I said.

We went up to get our purses and check on Mariah. She was face down on the bed and not interested in communicating.

“I think I’ll stay,” said Jess.

“No,” Mariah groaned.

“Something’s wrong.”

“No!”

“Libby, call Dr. Miniver,” said Jess.

“He doesn’t hear us,” I said. “I’ll call Leo.”

“Good, because I’m going to stay⁠—”

Mariah rolled over dramatically. “I said no, Mom. I’m fine. I just want to stay here and veg, okay?”

“I just think that⁠—”

“Your parents flipping sent you to college in a cab,” said Mariah. “I can hang out in a hotel for a couple of hours until everyone gets back.”

I put a hand on Jess’ shoulder. “Let’s go. We have a lead. We should follow it.”

Jess didn’t react and Mariah raised an eyebrow. “What lead?”

I told her what we found out and she collapsed back on the pillows. “He really did it.”

“You didn’t think so before?” I asked.

“I didn’t want it to be true.”

“Why not?” Jess asked. “If it wasn’t suicide, someone had to do it.”

“Ginny probably loved him so it’s worse,” said Mariah. “What are you going to do now? Tell the cops or tell Dr. Miniver?”

Dr. Miniver. Was this good news or not? How would he take it?

“We’re waiting on Dr. Miniver,” said Jess, sounding more decisive than she had since before Valentine’s Day.

“Why?” Mariah asked. “It’s his case.”

She checked her phone. “He has a moot court today and we haven’t interviewed Hot Toddy yet.”

Mariah and I said, “Ew.”

“I know, but he’ll love it if we call him that and we need him to like us,” said Jess.

“So Hot Toddy next?” I asked.

“Stop saying Hot Toddy,” said Mariah.

“Hot Toddy,” said Jess.

“Mom!”

Jess flung her purse over her shoulder. “See ya after we interview Hot Toddy.”

Mariah screeched and buried her head under the covers. Jess laughed and my chest felt lighter. I guess I’d been really worried, but I wasn’t aware of it or I was in denial. Either way.

“Alright, Ham Steak,” I said. “Watch over Mariah.”

Hambone looked up from her nest in the corner of the room and gobbled.

“I’m counting on you,” said Jess. “Because you’re her turk.”

“Not my turk,” said Mariah.

Angry gobble.

“Don’t be mean to Hammy,” said Jess.

“I have a cat,” said Mariah, throwing off the covers.

“It’s special when a ghost picks you,” I said. “Like when Leo picked us.”

With that, Hambone flew over to the bed and started gobbling.

“Why me?” Mariah asked and Hambone made a nest on her bed.

We laughed our way out of the room. I only hoped we’d be laughing later after meeting Ginny Cushing’s bad boyfriend.

Chapter Thirteen

Jess and I tried to come up with a plan as I drove through Ithaca and down to Cayuga Lake. We’d dealt with murderers before, but Todd West was different. What Dr. Bledsoe described was a person without regret of any kind. Even Patrick had a conscience of a sort. His decline was steep after he killed Leo and if his wife Emily was to be believed his death was a suicide. Professor Schramm felt horrible after he killed his beautiful student, Christine. The cops found the letters to prove it. But Todd West carried on as if nothing had happened as far as we could tell. The reason we had a hard time locating him was because his new house and the Victorian his parents gave him were technically owned by a shell company to avoid taxes because of course they were. His cars were the same way. Even his utilities were under the company and all his banking too. It was easy to find out once we had the address. Jess ordered a report from a snoop site during the dance party and it was all there. Todd was against paying taxes in a huge way and it made me want to spit nails. His sister was seventy and wrangling nine-year-olds, and Todd was collecting social security and claimed he had zero income otherwise.

“Taxes,” I said.

“Huh?” Jess asked.

“That’s how they got Al Capone.”

“I think this PayDay bar is going to my head,” said Jess. “Are we talking about gangsters?”

“We’re talking about taxes. Todd isn’t paying any and he hasn’t in how long?”

“Forever,” said Jess, perking up. “Since he got fired from that last firm.”

We smiled at each other.

“Leo? Are you busy?” I asked.

There was a pop in the backseat as I turned onto Shore Drive. I glanced in the rearview and Leo was in the backseat wearing a chef’s hat with flour on his nose.

“Sunday baking?” Jess asked.

“Darren is trying to perfect my crepes,” he said with a joyful grin.

“How’s it coming?”

“Disastrous, but the kids are having a wonderful time.”

I pulled into a driveway overlooking the lake and stopped at the end.

“How is everything?” Leo asked, popping into his mortician suit.

“Fine, but do you have time to look at some taxes for us?” I asked.

“Certainly, but I’m sure we did them correctly. I had two agents double check for me.”

“You’re very thorough,” said Jess. “I’m not talking about our taxes.”

“Where are we?” Leo leaned between our seats and looked past the stone wall and gate to the house down at the end of the driveway. It wasn’t as grand as I would’ve expected. Todd bought a ranch built in the 1930s and redone about five years before he bought it for just under a million cash or rather the shell company bought it. A million didn’t go that far on the lake and Todd’s house was just over seventeen hundred square feet, but it was a pleasant house, more pleasant than he deserved.

“A murder suspect’s house,” said Jess and she told him what we had.

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

“Thanks, but we’d like you to look at his taxes.”

Jess showed him what we had and the ghost said, “If you can’t get him on murder, taxes will do?”

“I’ll take whatever we can get,” I said.

“It won’t help his sisters,” said Leo.

“That depends on what you mean by help. He made them miserable and it’s time to spread it around.”

“There will be fees and penalties and lawyers to fight charges should they be brought. The government won’t leave much, if anything to inherit.”

“I doubt they expect to get anything from him,” said Jess.

“Send what you have to Darren,” said Leo. “I’ll look it over and send it to my friends if it’s significant.”

“Oh, it’s significant,” I said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because Todd West is lazy. I doubt he could be bothered to dot all the Is or cross all the Ts.”

Leo laughed. “I’ll find something. How is Mariah?”

“You were right as always,” said Jess. “Helping others helps.”

“She and Jordyn have made a real connection,” he said.

“If you already knew, why did you ask?”

“I wanted to make sure you knew.” Leo cocked his head to the side and a dark curl fell onto his forehead. “They’re calling me. Good luck.”

He popped out and I turned off the car. “Are you ready for this?”

“I’m ready to fight him,” said Jess.

“Well, let’s go get him then.”

We got out and walked down the driveway past two cars, a red Jaguar and a white BMW. He had a Mercedes too, but I assumed that was in the garage. Why one guy needed three luxury cars was beyond me, not that I hadn’t seen it before. It just never made any sense to me.

“Why do these cars make me madder?” Jess asked.

“Because his sister took out a second mortgage to pay her husband’s medical bills.”

“That could be it.”

I rang the doorbell. No answer. I tried again. Nothing.

Jess went back to the garage; being the taller of the two of us, she could peek in and confirm the third car was in there along with piles of Amazon boxes and high-end exercise equipment in a small but well-equipped gym.

I pounded on the door and kicked it. Still nothing.

“Maybe he’s lying dead on the floor,” said Jess.

“You are feeling bloody today.”

“He’s avoiding us. I hate that.”

“Todd doesn’t know who we are,” I said.

“Everyone knows who we are. We’re in so many videos from last night,” said Jess. “I’ve gotten sixty-eight messages from St. Seb asking how we learned to dance like that.”

“Me too, but Todd doesn’t have social media.”

“I bet he does, only under a false name.”

She had me there. Todd did seem like the kind of guy who used fake names on dating sites in particular.

“Come on.” Jess led me around the house. There was a dock jutting out into the lake, an open shed with kayaks, a canoe, and a pedal boat stored on the racks next to a large patio with a huge built-in barbecue and pizza oven.

“He’s living the life,” I said.

“Yeah, he is.”

I looked over at Jess, but she wasn’t looking at me or the patio. She was looking back at the house. There was a large sunroom that hadn’t been on Zillow, completely glassed in with luxe finishings. Inside the sunroom were two people, Todd West and a woman less than half his age. They were doing yoga, both in matching swimsuits. His, I’m sorry to say, was a thong speedo and I’ll never get the image of his downward-facing dog out of my mind. Never.

“I didn’t think it was possible to like that guy less,” said Jess.

“It’s the one way Todd overachieves,” I said.

“I’m going to document this.”

“Why?”

“No one will believe us otherwise.”

“Works for me,” I said.

Todd and his companion didn’t notice us and Jess took several pictures. I’m guessing most people in their sixties would be horrified to have their pictures taken while wearing a thong, but I have to admit, Todd aged well. Maybe having no conscience had an anti-aging effect. No guilt. No worry. No wrinkles. The man was fit and very tan but not in an orange way. His partner in yoga made me suck in my stomach and regret the pack of chocolate donuts that I had right after I ate a Hostess fruit pie because I thought I should have fruit at breakfast. So many regrets. She was slim and also had a thong on her super tight buns without an ounce of fat on her.

“She makes me want salad,” said Jess.

“I want a tummy tuck.”

“You don’t need a tummy tuck.”

“Did you see my breakfast?” I asked.

“Come on.” Jess dragged me over to the side door and knocked without hesitation.

Todd and his friend ignored us. Jess banged on the door until the woman finally glanced over. Her eyes went wide and she touched Todd’s well-muscled leg. He took out an earbud, listened, and then looked over at us. A charming smile came over his handsome face, welcoming and open. Not an ounce of the guarded expression I would’ve expected. The woman was less thrilled. A lot less.

Todd grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat off his face as he walked over to the door. He hadn’t changed much from the old family photos we’d found on Facebook. As he got closer, his age showed more, but in a way that made him more attractive, not less. Todd had smile lines and crow’s feet, but they made him look real and happy. A life well lived. That kind of thing.

He opened the door and a blast of hot air and sweat stink hit us. “Can I help you?”

“Todd West?” Jess asked in an inquisitive tone.

“The one and only Hot Toddy.”

The woman giggled and he grinned at us with a ne’er-do-well grin and, for a second, I was charmed. Whatever the X factor is, Todd West had it.

“I’m Jess Cleary and this is Libby Forest. Do you have a moment to talk?” Jess asked.

“No.” The woman came over and put a protective arm around Todd’s narrow waist and stroked the edge of the six-pack he still sported.

“Now, now, Britney, be polite,” said Todd. “We’re almost done with our workout anyway.”

“But we’re not done,” said Britney with a glare at us.

“You can continue if you like.”

“Not without you.”

He kissed her cheek, reassuring her and then asked, “How long do you need?”

“Hard to say,” I said. “It depends on you.”

“Intriguing.” Todd opened the door wider and welcomed us in. “Come on in. I’ll take a quick rinse and⁠—”

“With me,” said Britney with a challenge in her voice.

“With Britney and we’ll chat,” he said.

It took a second for me to process his attitude. In our short time in St. Sebastian we’d seen a lot of things, congenial warmth from a murder suspect wasn’t one of them.

Jess and I nodded and followed the couple into the main house. Britney was careful to keep herself between us and Todd as if we were dying to get close to a sweat-coated old guy in a thong. They both smelled and not just a little either.

“You can wait in here,” said Todd, bringing us into his living room. “Please help yourself to drinks.”

He gestured to a mid-century liquor cabinet while Britney kept a hand on his arm.

“Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be right back.”

“We’ll be right back,” said Britney.

Todd chuckled and kissed her cheek. “Of course.”

With that, they left us standing in the center of an absolutely stunning room. Todd had taste with a capital T and he liked the mid-century vibe. Everything had clean lines and right angles. There was a terrazzo floor, a wood ceiling, and furniture that could’ve been in a museum of design with the splayed peg legs and high-quality leather on the chairs. It was minimalistic but comfy with a beehive metal fireplace hanging in the corner and a curated selection of design books on the pale maple coffee table.

“Did you see this coming?” I asked.

“Not in a million years,” said Jess. “It makes me like him, the bastard.”

“I know. So bizarre.”

Jess checked out the liquor cabinet that was stocked with only the best in liquor, mixers, and water. She selected a couple of Icelandic bottled waters and poured them into crystal glasses. There were no glass glasses. Only the best for Toddy.

“Do you think he knows why we’re here?” I asked.

Jess sat down on a cool chair that was black leather encased in maple and put her feet up on the matching ottoman. “I have no idea.”

I sat on a sofa that was more beautiful than it was comfortable. “He’s a cool customer. That’s for sure.”

“Dr. Bledsoe didn’t say anything about that or this.” Jess waved her glass around.

“She probably hasn’t been here,” I said.

“You’re right. Probably not.”

Our phones dinged. Max and Henri sent pictures of Red Barn. They thought it was the coolest place ever and wanted to know when we would get there. I texted back that I didn’t know and got a frown emoji in response.

A couple minutes later, Todd came back in wearing a loose linen kimono in a black dahlia print and a pair of white trousers with rolled up cuffs over his bare feet. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. I can only assume to show off his spectacular abs. Britney wore a floor-length kimono in silk and I’m sure she was naked underneath. She flipped her blonde hair over one shoulder and showed off her freshly applied makeup while Todd went over to the fireplace and flipped a switch to start it up.

“Oh, good. You got some water.” He got a couple for himself and Britney, who settled in on the loveseat opposite me.

Todd sat down next to her and smiled. I had a flash of an image of Scott Peterson before the murders of his wife and son. Who would suspect him? The smile. The charm.

“What can I help you with?” he asked without a hint of trepidation.

“Jess and I are a type of private investigator.”

“I know,” he said. “Your work is fascinating.”

Hold the phone.

“You know who we are?” I asked in astonishment.

“Certainly. You’re all over social media. You and your children know how to make an impression. The McGraw Tower stunt is bound to become legendary.”

“Do you have any idea why we want to talk to you?” Jess asked.

“I assume it’s about Miss Cushing.” He said her name like it meant nothing to him and a chill went through me. Todd’s eyes weren’t blank or evil. He seemed perfectly normal. If I didn’t know he lied about Ginny’s mental state and summer internship, I’d have thought his conscience was clear, absolutely clear.

“It is.” Jess let that sit for a moment and the pause had no effect on him. I can’t say the same for Britney. She tensed and grabbed Todd’s hand.

“Who is Miss Cushing?” Britney asked.

We looked at Todd, expecting a flicker of something. Guilt. Hesitation. Faux sadness. Something.

“She was a girl I knew in law school,” he said.

Britney relaxed. “Why are you asking about her? Is she claiming she had Todd’s baby or something? Because that won’t work. He had a vasectomy forever ago.”

“She’s dead,” I said.

Todd tilted his head and his blond hair streaked with white, like perfect highlights, fell rakishly over his forehead. He sighed and said, “A sad end, but depression is overwhelming for some. At the time, they didn’t have good medications to combat it.”

“Bummer,” said Britney.

Jess and I stared at her.

“Yes, my dear,” said Todd. “It was a bummer.”

“It was more than a bummer,” said Jess. “It was a murder.”

Todd shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry you’ve been misled, but there was no murder. The autopsy concluded that Miss Cushing’s death was a suicide.”

Britney jolted to her feet. “Thanks for coming by. See ya.”

“We’re not done,” I said, settling back into the stiff cushions.

“What else can be said?” Todd asked as he rubbed Britney’s bottom.

“That you lied.”

He looked me straight in the eyes. “I didn’t lie. I didn’t have to. I barely knew Miss Cushing.”

“There you go,” said Britney.

“You barely knew the girl you’d been dating for months?” Jess asked.

Todd tugged on Britney’s hand and she sat down with a thump that opened her kimono to reveal most of her breasts.

“I don’t know who told you that we were dating,” he said. “We were hooking up as they say these days, but it wasn’t dating.”

“We have it on good authority that you were dating and were talking about getting married to Ginny,” I said.

“That’s ridiculous. Miss Cushing wasn’t my type.”

Britney leaned over and kissed his square jawline. “I’m his type.”

“Then why did you marry Anne Fleming?” Jess asked Todd.

I expected something definitive with the mention of Anne, but what I got was a chuckle.

“I didn’t expect to get married so young, but the heart wants what the heart wants,” he said. “We had a good run and two accomplished children.”

“Your heart wanted Anne?” I asked. “Are you seriously trying to sell that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t need to sell anything. I loved Anne. I married Anne.”

I hated to say it but I had to. “She’s not a looker like Britney, never was.”

Britney beamed and twirled a lock of hair around her finger.

“That depends on who you ask,” said Todd.

“Not really, no,” I said. “What was the attraction?”

“I told you I fell in love.”

“You got Anne pregnant and then she had to marry you,” said Jess.

“I don’t know where you got that from. Yes, Anne got pregnant, but we already knew we’d get married.”

“Are you expecting us to believe that you were just hooking up with Ginny? And you fell in love within two months of her death and were ready to marry Anne?”

“That’s what happened,” he said.

“We heard you had another motive,” I said.

“What in the world would that be?”

“You needed a job desperately and Anne’s father could provide one,” said Jess.

Todd shook his head and stroked Britney’s thigh. “Hardly. I had multiple offers. Anne’s father begged me to come into the family firm. I reluctantly complied to make Anne happy.”

“Oh, really?” I asked.

“Really, but that firm was badly run. It had serious problems. I was glad to move on when Anne and I divorced.”

“Why do you care about any of this?” Britney asked.

“Because your boyfriend killed Ginny Cushing,” said Jess.

“I didn’t kill Miss Cushing.” Todd looked at us with clear eyes and for a split second, I believed him.

“You can say her name,” I said.

“I just did.”

“You keep calling her Miss Cushing. Her name was Ginny.”

He sighed. “As I said, I didn’t know her well.”

What a smooth criminal.

“You knew her well enough to kill her,” I said.

Todd picked up his glass and took a sip before saying, “Why would I kill Miss Cushing? What possible motive would I have?”

“You found out she wasn’t really Seaforth Cushing’s daughter,” said Jess. “Ginny couldn’t get you a job at his firm and you’d been putting all that time and effort in for nothing.”

“I knew Miss Cushing didn’t come from money. It wasn’t a secret,” he said.

“Her friends didn’t know. Her professors didn’t.”

Todd yawned and then said, “I can’t help you. It was common knowledge. Miss Cushing wasn’t someone who could be mistaken for having come from privilege. She didn’t dress well. She didn’t go to St. Moritz for her holidays. She didn’t even have a car.”

I crossed my arms. “I thought you didn’t know her well.”

Not a flicker. Nothing.

“Your husband went to the law school, right?” Todd asked.

“Yes.”

“And you spent three years in Ithaca?”

“I did,” I said.

“Well, there you go. This is a small town and the law students are tight. We all know each other. It’s unavoidable, as I’m sure you know.”

“It’s not that tight,” I said, “and Ginny was a year below you.”

“I knew everyone,” said Todd. “I’m very social and people talk.”

“About whether Ginny had a car?” Jess asked.

“Sure,” he said. “We hooked up in my car when my roommates were home. We couldn’t use her car because she didn’t have one. We weren’t exclusive. I’m sure that happened with other guys.”

Britney smiled at us. “All this is stupid.”

“I know what’s stupid,” said Jess.

She stiffened, but Todd just tweaked her chin. “She’s not calling you stupid, honey.”

Yes, she is.

“Ginny’s friends believed she was a New York Cushing until after she died and they met her real parents,” I said.

“I can’t help you there. Maybe they were the stupid ones,” said Todd. “It was obvious.”

“You have an answer for everything,” said Jess.

“Of course,” he said. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“You killed Ginny.”

“I can see you really believe that, but I didn’t. Miss Cushing killed herself. She had water in her lungs. That’s the undeniable proof.”

“We think you threw her off the bridge while she was still alive,” I said.

Todd and Britney both laughed. I seethed and Jess’ upper lip twitched.

“How in the world would I throw a live woman off a bridge without attracting attention?” Todd asked. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, it is,” said Britney. “She’s not going to like say ‘Oh just throw me off. It’s fine.’”

I took a breath and said, “We think she was unconscious when you did it.”

“And I got her on the bridge how?” Todd asked.

“We don’t know,” said Jess.

“You don’t know anything because Toddy didn’t do it,” said Britney.

“Oh, he did it alright,” I said. “And we’re going to prove it.”

Todd gave us a sad and long-suffering look. “You’re welcome to investigate me and do whatever you want, but you’re wasting your time. I didn’t kill her.”

“You did.”

“Tell me why then,” he said full of sympathy for our hopeless case.

“We already said,” said Jess. “Rage. You didn’t have a job. You didn’t have a future and it was her fault.”

“How would killing Miss Cushing help that if it were indeed true?” he asked.

“It was rage at being denied something you thought you were entitled to,” I said.

Todd set down his glass and leaned forward. “You’ve looked into me?”

“As much as we can, given that you’ve hidden your assets and aren’t on social media,” said Jess. “But we’re not done. We’ve talked to one of your sisters and we’ll interview the rest.”

“Then you know that I am not a violent person.” Todd turned to Britney. “Have I ever been violent with you?”

She shook her head. “Never. You don’t even raise your voice.”

“There you go,” he said. “Would a non-violent person with absolutely no history whatsoever suddenly out of nowhere kill a girl he barely knew and go on like nothing happened?”

“That’s exactly what you did,” I said. “Except for the part about not knowing Ginny. You knew her.”

“That’s right,” he said. “I knew she wasn’t a New York Cushing and I didn’t have any motive. None.”

“Any more questions?” Britney asked with a sneer.

There were a lot of questions we could’ve asked about his taxes, how he got into law school, what he did to get fired from the personal injury firm, how did he get his parents to stiff his sisters, and more, but there wasn’t any point. Todd West couldn’t be rattled. Any idea I might’ve had that he was stupid had been put to rest. Todd West might be a sociopath, but he was far from stupid.

We thanked him for talking with us and he graciously said he was happy to help. From his tone and expression, you’d have been convinced that he was. I didn’t know what to do with that, but it scared me.

We walked out into an odd combination of sunshine and snowflakes, an Ithaca specialty, and got into the rental.

“He makes me wonder,” said Jess.

“What the heck is he?”

“I know what he is, a murdering psycho.”

“Then what?”

“I wonder what he could’ve accomplished in life if lazy wasn’t his defining characteristic,” she said.

I shuddered. “The sky would’ve been the limit.”

“I think the world dodged a bullet.”

But Ginny Cushing didn’t.

Chapter Fourteen

Jess and I put up our collars against the rising wind and ran along the path through the azalea garden toward Red Barn. I thought maybe I’d feel upset when I saw it, what with all the memories, but I just felt cold and demoralized. Todd West would not give anything up and we had to tell Dr. Miniver. The professor had been waiting for so long and then we showed up, giving him hope, only to disappoint.

“I hope it’s warm in there,” said Jess.

“It will be,” I said, leading the way out of the garden and around the barn. It was as I remembered with the same deep red color on the sturdy wooden Victorian barn that didn’t really look like a barn. It had a lot of windows, dormers peeking out from under the peaked roof, and a cute little cupola on top with a weather vane, but it was big enough to hold events like wedding receptions. McCloud had his first wedding reception at the barn. His fiancé didn’t get the charm, which didn’t bode well, now that I thought about it.

We dashed up to the door and I whipped it open to run inside the cavernous interior where students and visitors were having lunch. The interior was open to the ceiling and filled with gleaming wood. The second and third-floor balconies, where people could eat and study, overlooked the main floor where a fire blazed in the hearth.

“Thank goodness,” said Jess. “How can it be this cold?”

“That’s Ithaca for you,” I said, looking around for the kids and spotting them at a circular table by the bank of windows.

Henri stood up and waved. “Mom! Over here!”

The door behind us opened again and Hambone ran past us, all fluffed up. She went right to the hearth and started preening.

“She is so weird.” Mariah came up to join us.

“What are you doing here?” Jess asked.

Her daughter shrugged.

“You feel better?” I asked.

“Hampton Court thinks so,” said Mariah. “She wouldn’t leave me alone until I said I’d get an Uber to come here.”

She looked pretty grumpy until Jordyn called out, “Mariah’s here!”

The entire group, consisting of the law students, our favorite undergrads, and the high school students, had taken over several tables, covering them with laptops and paperwork. The barn wasn’t so full that people minded. They might’ve minded the noise. The group started calling out for Mariah to hurry up and Jordyn was beaming.

“Worth it?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s get some coffee,” said Jess.

Mariah went over to the team and we got coffee.

“What do you want to tell them?” Jess asked.

“The truth,” I said after ordering coffee and eyeing the peanut butter cookies on the counter.

“We didn’t find anything out that’s useful.”

“That’s the truth.”

“Let’s get salads,” she said. “We’ll feel better.”

“Jess, we just interviewed a murderer in his sixties that’s dating a woman young enough to be our daughter. No salad can save that,” I said.

“They have a portobello panini,” she said. “Want to split it?”

“Mushrooms give us gas because we’re old enough to be Britney’s mother.”

“Oh, we are not,” said Jess and she ordered the gas bomb. “I don’t care about her. She’s off, like really off.”

“I’ll give you that,” I said. “What was with all that protectiveness? She acted like we were trying to…”

“Get with him?”

“Yeah. It was weird, right?”

“Super weird, but he is⁠—”

“Don’t say it,” I said.

“Hot Toddy.”

I groaned and she laughed.

“But seriously,” Jess said after she paid. “He has no right to look like that.”

“I feel for the sisters more and more.”

“No kidding.”

We got our gas bomb and coffees before heading to the table where the kids were discussing production schedules with an intensity that made me nervous.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“She knows about you,” said Ava. “Sorry.”

We sat down and looked at the anxious faces.

“Who knows what?” Jess asked.

Josh turned his screen around. “Donna the Mistress of Death knows you went to interview Todd West.”

On the screen was a photo of me and Jess pulling into Todd’s driveway.

“Does my hair always look like that?” Jess asked.

“Kinda,” said Max. “But you can pull it off.”

“Am I usually that pale?” I asked. “Why is my nose so red?”

“That’s all you can say?” Mariah asked. “She’s threatening us.”

“That’s her thing,” said Jess. “Does anyone have a brush? I need a brush.”

Henri shook my arm. “Mom, seriously, she threatened us.”

“Again?” I said. “Hmm. This is excellent coffee.”

Jess nodded. “I know, right?”

“Are they okay?” Ava asked.

“I don’t think so,” said Jordyn. “This is bad. I thought she was just crazy, but she’s serious. She sent drafts of everything she’s going to do and when she’s going to do it if we don’t agree to back off of the Cushing case.”

Mark walked up to the table with a phone to his ear and held up a finger to us. “Just promote Jonas. I’ve had it with that prima donna Alphonso.” He paused. “Can him. You heard me. Can him.”

Mark hung up and said, “Alright. Enough of that. Back to the main event. I take it that the kids showed you the photo.”

We nodded and yawned. Mark laughed. “Exactly my reaction. So she posts her crackpot theory. So what?”

“Which crackpot theory?” Jess asked.

“There are plenty to choose from, but she started with Jordyn’s mental state and implying she might be a danger to herself and others.”

“I’m so sorry, Jordyn,” I said.

“It’s okay. I pretty much knew that was coming,” she said. “Donna’s done that to other people too.”

“That doesn’t make it easier for you,” said Jess.

“No, but she’s also going to say that you and Mark are having an affair.”

“Oh, please.”

“That’s what my wife said after she stopped laughing,” said Mark. “Next was Libby and Todd West are having an affair.”

“I met him today,” I said.

“That’s all it takes in Donna’s world.”

“Mom, she’s going to report us to social services,” said Max. “She’s going to say you and Jess are delusional nut jobs and you fed us drugs last night.”

“She already posted that St. Seb is full of crack houses and meth labs,” said Henri. “Chief Stratton is getting calls.”

“That woman is a menace,” I said. “I thought we all agreed not to let the bully have her way.”

The kids looked around and shuffled their feet.

“Here’s how I see it,” said Mark. “You all said that when you didn’t believe it would happen and now you think it will. Am I right?”

The kids nodded. All except Josh. He never doubted that Donna would do it and he didn’t care one bit.

Jess and I sipped our coffee and thought it over. It didn’t take much thinking on my part. I couldn’t let it go, not with Hot Toddy living the psycho life down on Cayuga Lake.

“Let’s put a pin in that stuff for a minute,” I said.

We told them about Todd and Britney. The kids got more and more somber.

“You didn’t get anything,” said Jordyn.

“But we’re not stopping,” said Jess. “This isn’t the end.”

Max held up his phone. It held a timer counting down with ten minutes left. “We’re almost out of time.”

“It’s too bad we don’t have something on Donna,” said Mark.

“What could be bad enough to make her stop?” Isabelle asked. “It’s obvious that she’s nuts.”

Mariah nodded. “It’s her brand.”

“We could tell her we have something,” said Isabelle. “It might slow her down and make her think.”

“Thinking isn’t her strong suit, but I say you give that a try,” said Mark.

Josh agreed and texted Donna, saying he had something on her that she wouldn’t want to come out. She asked what and he replied that she should think about who she is and reconsider. Donna replied with expletives and more threats.

“No-go then,” said Mark.

“No, but she’s awful. There must be something,” said Josh. “Are we still going ahead with the Cushing case?”

“What do you think, Jordyn?” Mariah asked the girl who’d come so far in such a short time.

“I think we can’t let her win,” said Jordyn.

“It will be fine,” I said. “None of it is true and we know some very good lawyers.”

“McCloud will sue her spandex off,” said Henri.

We laughed, but our mirth was cut short by a massive number of dings on the kids’ phones.

“She is rotten to the core,” said Mariah.

“She didn’t wait, did she?” Mark asked.

Josh handed him two bucks. “Man, I really thought she’d let the clock run out.”

“What did she post?” I asked.

Donna must’ve been up most of the night working. She flooded her channels with MurderIvy propaganda, doctored stories from the Sentinel showing Jess and me to be insane, a fake newspaper article saying Jordyn’s mom robbed a grocery store before she killed herself, Jordyn was a drooling depressed weirdo, Cornell had a serial killer, and of course all the affair stuff.

“Wow,” said Ava. “It’s all crap, but she makes it sound so plausible.”

“She’s good,” said Max.

“People will believe it,” said Jordyn. “Even the drooling.”

Max and Henri went to her and wrapped their arms around the girl whose face had turned red.

“We’re going to fix her,” said Max.

“How? MurderIvy is shooting up,” said Ava. “This is insane. Ithaca doesn’t have a serial killer. We don’t even have a donut shop!”

Jordyn started laughing until tears rolled down her cheeks. “Why don’t we have a donut shop? That’s so weird. Who needs donuts more than us?”

After the laughter, the kids got back to work while keeping a close eye on how fast Donna’s crap was gaining ground. I took calls from Tank Tancredi about the article she altered. He was hot and talking to the newspaper’s legal team. Chief Stratton texted that St. Louis metro 911 was taking calls reporting St. Seb crack houses that needed to be raided. Jeff called Jess about how she was feeding Mariah drugs inside her pizza. Last but not least, Derek and McCloud got on filing a cease and desist order to stop her from publishing further stories. A friend of McCloud’s would file it first thing in the morning.

The kids started posting Jordyn’s interviews for Welcome to Cornell: WTF just happened? It started trending, but it couldn’t keep pace with MurderIvy. Donna had no shame and people liked it.

“We need more Crazy Cornell: Weird on Campus. Where are Max and Henri?” Mariah asked. “They are the best at getting interviews.”

We looked around and they were gone.

“When did we last see them?” Mark asked.

No one could remember, but then people started getting up and leaving. En masse. All of the Red Barn seemed to get the same idea and stood up. Ava, the 2Ls, and Jordyn were looking at their phones.

“What did they do?” I asked.

“Houdini,” said Ava.

“Huh?”

“They’re in the tower again,” said Jordyn.

Jess and I dashed outside and ran for McGraw Tower and sure enough, the chimes were playing Dua Lipa’s “Houdini.” Appropriate, I must admit.

The growing crowd around the tower was clapping along and discussing when the fire would break out. We didn’t bother to go inside and neither did the guards. The same pair from before walked over, looking tired.

“Where are your sons?” one asked.

“They’re around here somewhere,” I said.

“Gee,” said the other one. “I wonder where they could be.”

Their walkie-talkies went off with a warning about Josephine being on her way. I guess she never took a day off.

“There goes a peaceful Sunday down the tubes,” said the first.

“Maybe this will help with that idiot posting about us being a murder school.”

Jess and I smiled.

“Is that the plan?” a guard asked.

I wrinkled my nose. “We’re not big on plans.”

The guards looked at each other and said, “That’s the plan.”

Josephine ran over and screamed about how they weren’t inside trying to get in the door. She was in a full-out rage, but the guards couldn’t have cared less. They knew they couldn’t get in and they didn’t care to try.

“It’s ending!” yelled someone in the crowd.

The last notes of the song faded away and dozens of phones went aloft to hopefully catch video of whatever was about to happen. Nothing did for a good two minutes.

“Ha!” yelled Josephine. “Now we’ve got them. Oh my god! What in the world is that?”

We stared up as a cloud of buzzing black flowed out of the tower.

“That’s not a fire!”

“Holy crap!”

“It’s bugs!”

The crowd started screaming as the cloud descended, a black cloud of crickets. In March. It covered the tower and the adjoining building and then came for the crowd, buzzing around and making waves and shapes. At one point, the Cornell mascot was made out of crickets and then there was a cricket tower before the bugs made dogs and cats to scamper around chasing onlookers. Half the crowd was fascinated and the other half horrified.

Josephine screamed in frustration until the cloud noticed her. The crickets formed a pillar in front of the school official that almost instantly shifted into the very image of the shocked Josephine. She put her hands over her mouth and then the crickets made arms to do the same and then just like with the smoke, the crickets sucked back over the lawn, up the tower, and then withdrew inside, leaving not a single trace that any of it had happened.

“What are we all looking at?” Max asked from behind me.

I turned around and there were The Eggs at their eggy best, grinning and holding up their phones showing Crazy Cornell: Weird on Campus trending higher than MurderIvy. The top video was of the school official freaking out, but in the video, there were no crickets.

Josephine was still there, hands over her mouth and eyes closed. Jess and I went over and tapped her on her shoulder.

“It’s over,” said Jess.

She opened an eye. “I give up.”

“Wise choice,” I said.

Josephine straightened her suit and said she was going to the hospital to have a mental health exam. I told her it wasn’t necessary. She wasn’t crazy.

“I have one question for you,” she asked.

“Okay,” I said.

“How are they doing it?”

We looked over at the boys who were popping and locking to celebrate their win, making the rest of the podcasting team erupt in laughter, especially when Mark gave it a try. He wasn’t half bad.

“I wish I knew,” I said.

Then someone tapped me on the shoulder. “Are those the kids that are doing the podcast about Cornell?”

“They are,” I said.

“Do you know if they’re taking more submissions?” asked a guy in a frat hoodie. “I had a thing happen in the morgue last weekend that freaked me out.”

“In the morgue?” Jess asked. “Imagine that.”

“The Morgue is what the kids call the Donjon Hall study lounge,” said Josephine.

I nodded. “Terrible lighting.”

“Do you think they’d be interested?” asked the student.

“Absolutely.” I pointed out Jordyn. “She’s the one you want.”

“The cute one in purple?”

“That’s Jordyn.”

He looked down and asked, “Did her mom really, ya know?”

“No. That was a cruel invention of Donna D’Angelo.”

“What an asshat,” he said. “I’ll go talk to her. Thanks.”

The frat guy hurried over to Jordyn and started talking to her so quick she didn’t have a chance to duck her head or get away. Surprise is a good thing.

Josephine’s phone started blowing up and she hurried away, saying things like, “Nothing happened,” and “I was playing along.”

“You don’t think she’ll get fired, do you?” Jess asked.

“I hope not. We really put her through it today,” I said.

Mark walked over, turning up his collar. “I’m going to get the kids back to the hotel, unless you have another plan.”

“We don’t,” said Jess.

He checked his phone. “So far so good.”

“What?”

“The boys’ latest stunt is beating Donna’s crap for the moment, but sadly, it won’t stick.”

“Something is seriously wrong with that woman,” I said. “She took this whole thing way too seriously.”

He nodded. “Some people are like that. You’re either on their side or the enemy. There are no other options.”

“We need to solve Ginny’s murder,” said Jess. “That will fix her.”

I wasn’t so sure. Donna the Mistress of Death wasn’t married to the truth and clearly, her fans weren’t either. Would they even care if we got Todd charged with Ginny’s murder?

“What’s your plan?” Mark asked. “I assume you aren’t returning to the hotel.”

Jess and I put on our brave faces and Jess said, “We’re going to give an update.”

“To the professor?” Mark asked.

“It’s time,” I said.

“How do you think he’ll take it?”

“I don’t think he’ll be surprised about Todd,” said Jess.

“That’s all?” Mark asked. “No tearing up the library like in Ghostbusters?”

“He can’t,” I said.

Mark looked over at the tower. “But some ghosts can? That’s got to be rough.”

Rough was an understatement.

Chapter Fifteen

Ava let us into the law school before she left with the podcast crew and we found Dr. Miniver in the moot courtroom. I’d spent more than a few nights hanging out in there. Sometimes I was watching McCloud, Derek and the rest of the crew arguing points in prep for the court, but more often we were drinking and having a grand time doing shots off the bench. I don’t think I was ever there when it was empty so it was a different feeling altogether without all the voices raised in argument or joy.

I supposed that was natural, since the room was an accurate representation of a real courtroom. It had the bench, tables for defense and prosecution, seats for onlookers, all under an arched ceiling with chandeliers and surrounded by lovely honey-colored wood paneling, giving the room gravitas and a sense of solemnity that I hadn’t really felt before.

Dr. Miniver was certainly solemn. We found him tucked into a corner off to the right of the bench at an old oak desk covered in cigarette burns and missing a leg. The professor had several books propping up the desk, but it still had a tilt as he worked on a pile of papers, writing incredibly fast with a tortoiseshell fountain pen.

“Dr. Miniver?” Jess asked.

The professor looked up in surprise and then a look of joy came over his features. I instantly regretted not calling on Leo for some advice. He always knew what to say and we didn’t have good news.

“What did you find out?” Dr. Miniver asked, pressing his hands down on the papers. “Nothing’s changed. I don’t think anything has changed.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He glanced around. “I’m still here.”

“Oh, right,” said Jess.

His face fell. “You aren’t surprised to find me here?”

“No,” I said. “And we don’t know if solving Ginny’s murder will help you to move on.”

“But you haven’t solved it.” He screwed on the cap of his pen and fixed his face into a patient expression, but his eyes remained disappointed. “Did you interview Todd?”

“We did.”

“It didn’t go well?”

I looked over at Jess and she said, “It went…different.”

“What does that mean?” Dr. Miniver asked.

“We didn’t shake him,” I said. “Todd is nothing like what we expected.”

“He’s a psychotic murderer.”

We shook our heads.

“You can’t possibly believe he didn’t kill her.” Dr. Miniver’s cheeks flamed to bright red. “He misdirected the investigation. He lied about Ginny. He married that other girl within months.”

“Yes, but calling him psychotic isn’t accurate,” I said. “He’s smooth and well-practiced.”

“What did he say?”

We told him everything and the desk and chair vanished. The professor began pacing and flexing his hands. “He’s happy. He’s still happy.”

“I’m afraid so,” said Jess.

“He didn’t give you anything?”

“Nothing.”

“What about that girl?”

“Britney?” I asked. “She wouldn’t tell us his shoe size.”

He turned to face us, his face red and his eyes wild. “Why are they like that? I don’t understand. Is it his looks? His height? What?”

I wanted to define what Todd West had, but I couldn’t. We knew what he was and still he affected both of us. Britney, Anne, Ginny, and countless others didn’t stand a chance.

“He’s got the X factor,” said Jess after a minute.

“What is that?”

Jess tried to explain, but it just made his face redder.

“We do have something,” I said.

“Don’t tell me he killed someone else,” said Dr. Miniver.

“Taxes. It looks like he’s pulling a fast one on the IRS.”

“A lot of fast ones,” said Jess and if we were expecting joy at the prospect of a tax charge, we didn’t get it.

“Taxes?” Dr. Miniver asked.

“It’s better than nothing,” I said.

“That’s like realizing you bought the winning lottery ticket and then finding out all you get is five bucks.” An armchair appeared behind him and he sat down to bury his face in his hands. “He killed Ginny and we’ve got taxes.”

“We’re not giving up,” said Jess.

“How long do you have?”

“We’re here until Wednesday and then we’re⁠—”

“Wednesday?” Dr. Miniver looked up with tears in his eyes. “I was hoping you had the entire week.”

“We’ll get something,” said Jess. “You never know. When the feds take a peek into his finances, they might turn something up.”

“He’s never going to crack, is he?”

“From what we saw today, I’d say no,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t lie to you.”

The professor nodded. “I appreciate that. What’s next?”

“There’s a possibility that something will happen since Donna the Mistress of Death is turning up the heat on you,” said Jess. “People come forward for the strangest reasons.”

“I’m sorry if I can’t get excited about my good name being slandered all over the world.” The professor took a deep breath and then asked, “The internet is all over the world, right?”

“Yes.”

“Swell.”

“We should call Dr. Bledsoe,” I said, pulling out my phone.

“What for?” Jess asked. “She was very forthcoming.”

“But we haven’t talked to the other sisters yet. They might know something she doesn’t. It’s worth a try.”

Jess looked doubtful and Dr. Miniver morose, but I called anyway. Dr. Bledsoe answered with a breathless, “Hello?”

“This is Libby Forest and⁠—”

“Did you talk to my weasel of a brother?”

“We did.” I told her about the conversation and she wasn’t a bit surprised.

“So the Todd Effect is still going on, even at his age,” she said.

I put my phone on speaker. “What’s the Todd Effect?”

“He fascinates women. He always has.”

“His girlfriend wasn’t friendly at all,” said Jess.

“Well, she wouldn’t be, would she?”

Jess and I glanced at each other and then we looked at Dr. Miniver, who shrugged.

“Is there a reason she wouldn’t like us?” I asked.

“Competition. Plain and simple.”

“We weren’t interested in him,” said Jess.

“You would’ve been if you didn’t know his history,” she said. “Do you deny it?”

We couldn’t and it was embarrassing. Hot Toddy was in a class by himself. I knew hot, charming men. I’d been married to one, but Todd West was something else.

“She was downright hostile,” said Jess.

“They always are.” Dr. Bledsoe told us about Todd’s history with women. I wouldn’t say she left things out intentionally. It just hadn’t come up. She described her brother as a serial monogamist, except he wasn’t monogamous. Confusing, I know, but Todd didn’t like being alone. He was always shopping for the next one and they always overlapped. Sometimes with several candidates vying for the prime position of girlfriend.

“Britney would know that since I’m sure she was in place before he booted the last one,” said Dr. Bledsoe. “She’d be worried that you’d be that woman or women.”

“We need to find the last one,” said Jess.

“Good luck.”

“You think we can’t find her?” I asked.

“I think she won’t say anything bad about Toddy. She’ll be hoping for a repeat. He does that. Goes back to previous women.”

“They aren’t mad?” Jess asked.

Dr. Bledsoe laughed. “Sure, but not at Toddy. Heaven forbid.”

“A charmed life,” said Dr. Miniver.

“Have you talked to your sisters about us?” I asked.

“I have and they don’t know anything that I haven’t already told you, but they’re thinking about it. I can text you their numbers, but I doubt it will help you.”

“Neither would know who the last girlfriend was?” Jess asked.

“No. Like me, they stopped communicating with him when our parents left him everything. Some things are better left unknown. I know it makes me a bad person, but he’s happy and I don’t want to see it.”

“I understand completely,” said Dr. Miniver.

“We understand,” I said.

“What about Anne and the kids?” Jess asked.

“I know for a fact that they haven’t talked to him in more than a decade,” said Dr. Bledsoe. “I wouldn’t want to stir things up for them unnecessarily.”

We agreed to leave Todd’s ex and the kids out of it and she hung up.

“Dr. Miniver?” I asked and the professor looked up from staring at his hands.

“Yes?”

“Do you remember any girls hanging around Todd when Ginny was dating him?”

He nodded. “There was always an array of coeds around Todd: tall, short, beautiful, less than beautiful, brilliant, not so brilliant. No one was immune to Todd,” said Dr. Miniver. “What are you thinking? Stalkers?”

“Just that maybe there was a girl hanging around at the time of the murder,” I said. “We need a witness.”

“But they would’ve come forward.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Would they? Dr. Bledsoe said that women are on Todd’s side, even when he dumps them.”

“I suppose you’re right and even if one of his fans saw something, they might not know what they saw,” he said.

“We can put out a call on podcast and socials for witnesses,” said Jess.

“The police asked for witnesses,” said Dr. Miniver. “No one came forward back then.”

I smiled at him. “It’s been forty years. Perhaps Todd’s appeal has waned after all that time.”

Dr. Miniver didn’t appear hopeful. He just said he had a tutoring appointment with a student and popped out.

“That went better than I expected,” said Jess.

“Did it?” I asked. “He was so let down.”

“But he didn’t start flipping ages. I consider that a win.”

“Sunny-side-up?” I asked.

“Sunny-side-up,” said Jess. “Now let’s go find some ex-girlfriends and pray that they’re angry.”

Good times.

“That was too easy,” said Josh. “I need a real challenge.”

“You found the ex-girlfriends?” I asked from my spot on the sofa we’d dragged into the conference room from the lobby. The manager didn’t care what we did. The videos from our podcasting dance party had over a million views so their bookings were up fifteen percent and rising.

The boy looked up from behind his laptop. “I found the last three.”

“Good job,” said Susan and she kissed her embarrassed son’s cheek. “How did you do it?”

“Simple. I used a lookup service to find out who lived in his house since he bought it,” said Josh.

“That’s a thing?” Susan asked.

“Sure. It’s no big deal. People get mail, pay taxes⁠—”

“Or not,” said Mariah.

“Or not,” said Josh. “Do you want their names?”

I sat up and grabbed my own laptop. “I’m ready.”

“Shelly Kelly, Marissa Rojas, and Hannah Turner.”

“Shelly Kelly?” I asked.

Josh put his hands behind his head and leaned back. “I checked. That’s her real name. She changed it from the original Michelle.”

“I guess she liked the alliteration,” said Susan.

“She’s weird,” said Jess.

“They’re all weird,” said Josh.

“How?” Susan asked.

“Hannah’s like twenty-five. Marissa’s thirty. Shelly’s the oldest at thirty-one.”

Susan frowned at her son. “What’s your point?”

Mariah turned Josh’s laptop around and we saw an Instagram photo of a beautiful girl in a skimpy bikini posing on a yacht. “Todd is old. What kind of weirdo dates a guy the age of your grandpa?”

“You didn’t meet him,” I said.

“I don’t need to meet him to know it’s gross.”

The rest of the room agreed, but—like Mariah—they hadn’t met Todd and our explanations didn’t do him justice.

“It is gross,” I said. “But he’s got something they like.”

“Free room and board,” said Ava. “I’d never date a guy like that.”

“You’re going to have a career,” said Jordyn.

“They have careers,” said Josh.

“What are their careers?” Mariah asked, dripping with doubt.

“Oncology nurse, teacher, and a YouTuber.”

“What does she do on YouTube?” Jess asked.

“She’s a seamstress and she does breakdowns on historical film costumes,” said Josh. “She’s got a lot of followers and she’s been monetized for a long time.”

“Can you make a living at that?” Susan asked.

“Sure,” said Mariah. “What’s her name?”

“That’s Shelly,” said Josh. “Why?”

“I follow a costume woman on YouTube.”

“Her channel is Lady Reign.”

Mariah jumped up. “That’s her! That’s her! She’s awesome.”

She ran over to show us a video. Lady Reign was breaking down the first season of Bridgerton, dresses, hats, shoes, the whole shebang.

“Where’s she located?” Jess asked.

Josh smiled at us. “You’ll never guess.”

“Here in Ithaca?”

“Yep.”

We waited and he kept smiling until Olivia gave his head a nudge. “Tell them, ya goober.”

Max and Henri walked in carrying pizza boxes and Henri said, “Hey, we’re the only goobers in this group.”

“You’ve been out goobered,” said Mariah and she told them about Shelly Kelly.

“Oh, yeah,” said Max. “We like her.”

The room went silent.

“You watch a costume lady?” Josh finally asked.

“Dude, you don’t know,” said Henri. “If you can’t sleep, she’s the best.”

Everyone erupted into laughter, except Mariah.

“She’s not boring. She’s detailed.”

Max put his nose in the air. “Let me zoom in on the third buttonhole. That is not hand stitched!”

“Detailed!” Mariah said.

“Boring!” Max said.

“Detailed!”

“Address?” I asked.

The kids looked at me and I asked, “Where does she live in Ithaca?”

“You’ll never guess,” said Josh again.

“We’ve been through that, honey,” said Susan.

“No fun.” He sighed and turned his laptop around to tap a few keys before turning it back to us. “She’s living here.”

Mariah made a face and I did too. Josh had put up a photo of a large, rundown Victorian. It was enormous as a lot of the Ithaca Victorians were, but this one was sadly rundown, with a sagging porch, chipped paint, and boarded-up windows in the turret.

“I thought you said she was making money,” said Jess.

“She is,” said Josh.

“So…”

“It’s his house.”

“Todd’s house?” I asked.

Josh grinned at us. “She’s been there for the last two years.”

“She’s nuts,” said Ava. “That’s student housing. I went there my first year to check it out.”

“Cheap rent?” Jess asked.

“Super cheap, but I didn’t get it.”

“What do you mean you didn’t get it?” I asked.

“Lots of applications,” said Ava. “I’d have had my own bathroom.”

“What’s the address?” I asked.

“Hold on.” Josh went over to grab some pizza and Jess looked at me. “There’s no point in talking to her.”

“Why not?”

“She’s living in his house,” said Jess. “Her hope is alive.”

I sank back into the stiff cushions. “True. Josh, where are the other ones?”

He answered through pizza, but I got the gist. They were in Wisconsin and California. They’d moved on. The nurse was married so we tried her first. Jess got ahold of Marissa who, to our surprise, didn’t have a bad thing to say about Todd. She thought we were out of our minds to think he could’ve done anything violent. Marissa said Todd was gentle and considerate. When Jess pointed out that he dumped her for Hannah, she blew it off. It was time. She wasn’t exciting him anymore. As to why that didn’t bother her, I couldn’t say. It bothered me.

Next up was Hannah. Todd dumped her for Shelly. She was still a fan and made it clear that we should mention her to Todd. Hannah had a live-in boyfriend but she was very available to Todd, should he call. She also thought we were nuts. Jess told her that Todd must have a temper, but she laughed. Hannah had once accidentally left a faucet in the bathroom running when she went to answer the door. It flooded the bathroom and the kitchen and he didn’t even get mad. They just cleaned it up and went out to dinner.

Jess hung up and Jordyn said, “I don’t understand. He did it.”

Mariah put her arm around Jordyn’s shoulder. “Mom and Libby will get something.”

“Donna just posted another lie about my mom. People will believe the lies unless we can beat her.”

“What was it this time?” Josh asked.

“That my mom used to vacuum up my hamsters when she got sick of them.”

“No one will believe that,” said Ava.

“I never even had hamsters.”

“There you go,” said Olivia. “She’s an idiot.”

“We have to get something on Todd,” said Jordyn.

“We will,” said Isabelle. “Your podcast is way better than hers already.”

“But it’s not enough to shut her up. We need something big. We need to clear Dr. Miniver.”

I stood up and looked at Jess. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To see Shelly the seamstress.”

Jordyn clenched her fists. “That’s pointless.”

“Take a breath and then get back to work,” said Jess. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Jordyn ducked back into the booth and we left with little hope but a lot of determination.

Chapter Sixteen

Determination isn’t always enough. On the drive over, I got my hopes up, but Shelly wasn’t what we expected after meeting Britney. She was quite pretty with a serious vibe. I’d have called her an intellectual. I don’t know what I’d call Britney. Shelly certainly didn’t mince words though. Their dating timelines overlapped the way Dr. Bledsoe said they would and Shelly’s overlapped with Hannah’s. She didn’t see anything wrong with that, but she was incensed that Britney moved in on Todd while she was still in the picture. Despite her obvious intelligence, the irony was lost on her.

We sat in the shared kitchen of Todd West’s Victorian on thrift store furniture and drank water out of the tap. The fridge didn’t have a water dispenser since it was circa 1989 and rusty. The entire kitchen was thirty years out of date and not in a good way either. The charming Victorian accents had been stripped, but it was clean and organized. I had to give that to the woman sitting across from us wearing an outfit straight out of Edwardian England with leg-of-mutton sleeves and a bustle. Everything about her costume was perfect. So perfect that when she came to the door, I thought she might be a ghost, but costuming was Shelly’s passion and she lived it.

“I don’t think you understand Todd,” said Shelly as she patted the intricate hairstyle that she said took her two hours to accomplish.

“You’re right about that,” I said.

“He’s not a bad person. He’s just not.”

“We’re certain he killed Ginny Cushing,” said Jess.

“And my dad was certain that his Enron stock would make his retirement bliss,” said Shelly. “He was wrong too.”

“Todd lied to the police.”

“I seriously doubt that. Todd is very honest. He was very honest with me.”

“He cheated on you,” I said.

“We were never exclusive,” said Shelly.

“You lived together,” said Jess.

“I know. I was there.”

I didn’t know what to say. Talking to Shelly was like talking to a cult member. I’d never been as sure about anything as she was about Todd West.

“Why are you living here with college students?” Jess asked.

She smiled and her eyes lit up. “Todd asked me to. I’m doing him a favor.”

“And you’re a what? A house mother?” I asked.

“Exactly. I look after everything, collect rent, and clean,” said Shelly.

“In exchange for?” Jess asked.

“Free rent. I’m also going to handle the renovations this summer.”

“You’re renovating?”

“We are. A total redo. Todd is very attached to the house naturally.”

“Because his parents bought it for him?” I asked.

A fat tabby cat trotted in and leapt into Shelly’s lap, purring like a maniac. She stroked the cat and laughed. “Who told you that? Todd got a golden parachute from his last firm. He used it to buy this house.”

The cat jumped onto the table and walked over to us, still purring. I gave him a scratch. “His sister said his parents bought it for him because he was fired.”

Shelly sighed. “Jealousy. It’s sad.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Have you met Dr. Bledsoe?”

Where is she going with this?

“We have.”

“Then you understand,” she said.

Jess looked at me and I shrugged. “Okay. What do we understand?”

“I mean, I look at you two and obviously.”

Maybe she’s crazy.

“Obviously…” Jess trailed off as three girls walked in. They were wearing Cornell sweatshirts and carried heavy backpacks. There was nothing extraordinary about that, but there was something extraordinary about them. They were Britney look-a-likes.

“Oh, hi,” said the one with a high pony. “Are we interrupting?”

“No, Madison,” said Shelly. “These ladies are just interviewing me about Todd.”

“Oh my god. Todd,” said the second with braids and thick lip gloss. “Don’t you just love him.”

“He’s the best,” said the third who had a tan to match Todd’s. “We have the lowest rent. Seriously, it’s ridiculous.”

Jess struggled to keep a straight face. “I bet.”

“And we have two-year leases,” said the first. “And he’s not raising the rent after he redoes the house.”

“So lucky.”

The three girls nodded together and smiled.

“Are you three the only renters?” I asked.

“No,” said Madison. “There’s Morgan and Alexis too. They’re grad students.”

“Just girls?” Jess asked.

“Yeah, but Todd doesn’t discriminate on the basis of gender. This has just always been a girl kind of house. You know how it is,” said the first.

I knew exactly how it was.

“Say, do you happen to know Todd’s girlfriend, Britney?” I asked.

“Of course!” said the second. “She used to live here before they hooked up.”

“How about Hannah Turner or Marissa Rojas?” Jess asked and Shelly’s cheerful demeanor wavered before setting in stone.

“I think Rachael said she took Marissa’s room when she moved out,” said the first girl. “Then I took Rachael’s room. Was Hannah in yours, Madison?”

“No, that’s Morgan’s room. It’s a great room. Love that room.”

The girls got some drinks and snacks before going up to change for the gym, because of course they were going to the gym on a Sunday.

Shelly shifted in her seat and said, “If that’s all. I have a filming schedule I have to keep to.”

“You lived here too, didn’t you?” Jess asked.

“I live here now.”

We crossed our arms and stared at her with our best mom looks. She cracked. They always crack. The sweet ones anyway.

“Alright, yes. I lived here when I was doing my post grad work and yes, that’s how I met Todd, but it’s not what you think.”

“I don’t know what I think, but it’s freaking me out,” I said.

“Why? Todd sometimes dates his tenants. There’s no law against that,” said Shelly.

“There is against gender discrimination.”

“You heard Madison. We do not discriminate against boys. They just don’t apply,” said Shelly. “Todd loves this house.”

“Because it’s full of beautiful women?” Jess asked.

“No, because he lived here during law school,” said Shelly in triumph.

A chill went through me. This was where Todd lived. Was it where Ginny died? The cat kept purring and head butting my hand. I couldn’t think, but Jess could.

“Did he live here after he bought it with his golden parachute?” Jess asked.

“How did you know?” Shelly asked.

Because he was broke.

“Makes sense,” I said. “Which room?”

“The one in the turret. Why?”

“Can we see it?”

“I’m afraid not,” she said with a frown. “It’s one of our projects. The stairs are unsafe so they have to be rebuilt.”

“And he lived in the turret during law school?” Jess asked.

“It’s got an amazing view. Todd loves views.”

“So yes?”

“Yes. Why is that important?” A furrow appeared between Shelly’s eyes.

I shrugged. “It’s not. Just curious. It’s a striking house.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

Jess and I stood up and I gave Shelly the cat before thanking her for her time. We left and walked over to our car across the street.

“That guy is unbelievable,” said Jess. “What do you think the rent is?”

“We can ask Ava,” I said.

“You realize why she didn’t get the room?”

“She’s adorable.”

“Not Britney, Madison, Marissa, Hannah, and whoever else adorable,” said Jess. “And what was that about how we understand? I don’t understand. I want to string him up by his buffed toenails and beat him with a stick.”

“Dr. Bledsoe isn’t beautiful.” I crossed my arms and looked up at the house that Todd was so attached to. “Neither was Ginny.”

“Or his wife, for that matter. What’s your point?”

“I think we’re missing something,” I said.

“A lot of somethings. Like why, if Todd is non-violent, did he kill Ginny?” Jess asked.

“Are you doubting that he did it?”

“Not at all. It’s just weird and he’s not a random guy.”

I glanced over. “Yeah?”

She crossed her arms and leaned back on the car next to me. “He’s a planner. He’s calculating. Like the girls in that house. They’re auditioning and they don’t even know it.”

“Ginny and Anne couldn’t live in that house.”

“You mean the brothel?” Jess asked.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said.

“It’s not a huge leap.”

I pointed at the side of the house. “Neither is that.”

Jess turned around. “What?”

“The fire escape. It goes right up to the turret,” I said.

Jess grinned. “There’s a stop on the third and second floors, but it was spring break.”

“No one was there.”

“I hadn’t really thought about where it started,” said Jess. “I just kept thinking about the bridge.”

“Where it ended.”

“Did he have a car?” Jess asked.

“Of course he did,” I said. “All the trust fund kids do.”

“He wasn’t a trust fund kid.”

“Not in the traditional sense.”

My eyes followed the rickety metal stairs from a turret window. They were narrow, but where there’s a will, there’s a way. The fire escape led right to the small parking lot where three cars were sitting under the branches of an enormous oak tree. It had to have been there forty years ago and it would’ve blocked the view from the house next door. The street had a clear view, but all the houses appeared to be student housing. They would most likely have been empty or nearly so.

“We need to find out where Ginny lived,” said Jess.

“I’ll call Julie in the morning.”

“I hope she remembers.”

“She’ll remember. Don’t worry about that,” I said. “Let’s trace his steps.”

“I wish there were more ghosts around.”

I laughed. “I bet you never thought you’d say that.”

“No kidding,” said Jess, joining me in laughter.

After going through the various options, Jess and I figured it would take Todd less than ten minutes to get Ginny’s body onto campus, park, and carry her to the bridge. That no one saw him wasn’t exactly a miracle, but it was lucky.

Jess and I stayed on the bridge for a while, hoping against hope that we might spot a ghost. After all, it was a suicide spot and our recent interactions with Paul Castiglione led us to believe that some ghosts like to come back to the place of their demise, but no one turned up.

When we returned to the hotel, there was a line for interviews. After the “Houdini” stunt, word got out that Max and Henri were at the hotel with the podcasters and that brought in the stories. It also brought in Donna the Mistress of Death, wearing a shiny, skin-tight hot pink jumpsuit and a hat that could’ve doubled as a beach umbrella.

She was leaning over the desk at reception and haranguing the clerk. Trent had a dust cloth in his hand and looked ready to smack her with it.

“I’m telling you I know the law and that is a fire hazard,” said Donna.

“It’s not a fire hazard,” said the clerk.

“So you’re just going to let that go on and risk those children’s lives?”

Trent sighed. “Ma’am, no children are at risk. There are parents in the conference room.”

“Parents that are feeding their children junk food and drugs,” said Donna. “I reported on that situation and I am a certified journalist.”

“No, you’re not.”

“It was on my podcast and my socials. Do you listen to my podcast?”

“I do not.”

“That explains it.” Donna pulled out her phone and held it up, blaring her voice at him.

“Ma’am, we require earbuds in the common areas,” said Trent.

“You have to hear this.”

“I really don’t.”

Donna put her sizable chest on the desk. “You will love it.”

“I won’t,” said Trent.

“Listen, boy, I’ve got a one hundred percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes,” said Donna. “I am certified fresh.”

“No, you aren’t.” Trent picked up a pen and I feared he might stab her with it or worse, himself.

Jess nudged me. “Should we save him?”

“I think we have to,” I said. “Hey, Trent! Fresh cookies coming out soon?”

Trent sagged against the desk and Donna turned on us like she smelled blood in her tank. “There you are. The sad sisters. Isn’t it awful when women let themselves go?”

“Mostly, we just want you to go,” Jess said.

Donna stalked over and Trent ran into the back. “Getting cookies!”

“You two don’t learn,” said Donna. “I warned you.”

I nodded. “We were warned.”

“But you didn’t listen.”

“Very true,” said Jess. “I’m known for not listening. Just ask my mother.”

“You think you’re funny, don’t you? Well, you won’t be laughing after I get through. Haven’t you googled me?”

We shrugged.

“Unbelievable. The last person who tried to muscle in on my turf is a llama herder in Paraguay.”

“Do you ever say things that are true?” I asked.

“It’s true that I’ve swatted people. People have been swatted.”

“That’s a crime,” said Jess.

“Not when they deserve it,” said Donna. “You better stop those kids. My numbers are going down and I mean business.”

I turned to Jess and said, “‘And I would’ve made millions if it weren’t for you meddling kids.’”

“Oh. Oh. I have it,” said Jess. “The one in the swamp?”

“Nope.”

Trent poked his head out. “Snow beast.”

“‘A Scary Night with a Snow Beast Fright’,” I said.

“Scooby-Dooby-Doo!” called out Trent.

Donna glared at him and he ducked into the back. “I’ve had it with you two. I will uncover all your secrets and broadcast them to the world. My husband is hiring a private detective as we speak.”

“You’re married?” Jess asked.

“Of course, I’m married,” said Donna. “What do you mean by that?”

“Just that he must be…”

“Deaf?” I offered.

Donna pointed at me. “You are my new project. Beware.”

“Consider me warned and you should consider something too,” I said.

“And what is that?”

I got in her face. “We might not be crazy.”

She snorted.

“Something attacked you. What do you suppose that was?”

“A dog.”

“An invisible dog?”

Donna the Mistress of Death’s upper lip started to sweat. “You are crazy.”

“We have been getting our information from somewhere. Who do you think told us that Ginny had water in her lungs?”

“Police report.”

“Never requested it.”

“Newspaper.”

“Wasn’t in there.”

The podcaster swallowed and said, “I’m not backing off. I was here first and the Dr. Miniver murder story is mine.”

Jess wrinkled her nose. “He’s not a fan.”

She gulped and did an about face to jog past the desk and down the hall. Trent popped out. “Where is she going?”

“I don’t care just as long as she goes,” I said.

That’s when the fire alarm went off.

Chapter Seventeen

Setting off a fire alarm in a hotel is no joke and the Ithaca firefighters weren’t laughing. Everyone had to be evacuated and the entire structure checked just in case. An elderly lady with the flu had to be bundled up and taken outside. Parents had to wake napping babies and toddlers. Some people panicked and tried to pack up everything. The parking lot was full of suitcases and screaming, exhausted kids. The podcasting team recorded the whole debacle with grim determination. Donna did it to cause them issues and that’s what Trent told the cops.

After alarms were reset and the building cleared, a forensic guy took fingerprints from the alarm in question. The cops said they could charge Donna with false reporting. It could potentially be a felony, which got a cheer from the other guests. They also said it wasn’t her first offense. It would be her third. She had a storied history of pulling alarms, calling in false reports, and she had swatted her rivals too. Donna the Mistress of Death had quite a rap sheet, but she always weaseled her way out of it, getting—at best—community service. The Ithaca police force eyed Max and Henri while they informed me and Jess of the consequences of causing a public panic and/or nuisance.

We told them we understood and they allowed us back in the building to defrost. If Donna thought her crime would deter the kids, she was mistaken. If anything, they were more determined than ever, especially Jordyn. Her father found out about Donna’s accusations and was coming to Ithaca as soon as he could get his schedule cleared. Jordyn was surprised that he’d come all that way. That might’ve pleased her, but he was bringing her new stepmother and Jordyn’s face told us that wasn’t the right move. Getting married less than a year after her mother died to a woman he met on the internet wasn’t either, but Jordyn didn’t have a say in any of it.

She did have a say in solving Ginny’s murder and doing the podcast so she went back to work without missing a beat. At dinner time, Mark and Susan decided to take the kids to Purity Ice Cream for burgers and, of course, ice cream. Max and Henri were all about it, but we had dinner with my friend Diane. Normally, I would’ve let them go with Mark, but they needed to have some consequences for causing a public panic and/or nuisance and needed to make amends with Diane at the very least. Mariah, to my surprise, opted to come with us. I think she may have just wanted to see the boys eat crow. They were basically siblings and siblings are like that.

We arrived at Simeon’s American Bistro five minutes early, which was a minor miracle with all the calls the boys were fielding about interviews with students, and some influencers—not the Donna kind—were reaching out to schedule chats.

The hostess escorted us to the second floor to sit at a round table with the most comfortable seats ever under a cool, modern light fixture that I totally wanted in my office.

“This place slaps,” said Henri. “The building’s old, but it’s modern and old inside.”

“You don’t make any sense,” said Mariah rolling her eyes.

“Look at the dark wood and the blue walls, but everything’s shiny and smooth.” Henri grinned at her. “Like us.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re just like this place.”

“Glad you agree.”

“I was being sarcastic,” said Mariah.

“Are you sure?” Max asked. “We are pretty smooth.”

The kids started bickering to the amusement of our waiter. Jess ordered a strawberry rhubarb swizzle and I stuck with a non-alcoholic drink since I was driving. It was a real shame too. I could’ve used a blackberry old fashioned after dealing with Donna. The kids got some mocktails after a spirited debate with our waiter about how old they looked and whether liquor laws ought to be enforced when one’s mother is driving. The manager came up and listened. He was so amused the mocktails were on the house.

“I win,” said Max after sampling his ginger beer.

“You always think you win,” said Mariah.

Max grinned at her. “We’re here in Ithaca, aren’t we?”

She sneered at him.

“And you like it,” said Henri. “And so does Ham Adams over there.”

Hambone darted under a table through a guest’s legs to go after a random crumb she couldn’t eat. The guest shivered. “Where is that breeze coming from?”

“What breeze?” asked his wife.

Hambone passed through again on her way to another table that was digging into their rolls.

The man shivered again. “Don’t you feel that?”

“You are out of your mind. There is no breeze.”

We all smiled as Hambone went back. This time, she flew onto the table and started hunting and pecking. We didn’t allow that at home, but it’s not like we could go over and shoo her off by the way she gave us the side-eye, I knew Mariah’s turk was well aware of our public limitations.

Our waiter returned and asked if we wanted to go ahead and order.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “She’ll be here.”

“Would you like more bread?” he asked.

Before we could answer, Diane came charging up the stairs, bypassing the hostess. “I’m here.” She collapsed into the last chair and said, “What’s strong? I need a strong drink.”

The waiter started naming whiskeys. I was inclined toward Pappy Van Wrinkle, but Diane said, “Not that strong. Mixed drink. What have you got?”

He recommended The Aristocrat and she agreed as she pulled off her scarf and tossed it at Max, who was so surprised it hit him in the face.

“You two,” she said. “You’re lucky I love your mother or I don’t know what I’d do.”

Max held the scarf up over his mouth and nose with only his wide eyes peering at her. Henri had sunk down so low only his brows were visible above the tabletop.

Mariah crossed her arms and smiled. “Oh gee. What did they do?”

“It’s Sunday,” said Diane. “Do you realize that it’s Sunday?”

The boys said nothing so I answered in the affirmative. Jess just bit her lip.

“I don’t work on Sunday. I don’t. I go to church. I bake. I read. I listen to my wife talk about how much we need new windows and a Peloton. I do not work!”

“Diane, I am so sorry,” I said.

“I know. You’re sorry. The boys are sorry.” She glared at them and they started nodding like crazy. “Mrs. Blanchard is sorry. Security is sorry. Everyone is sorry, but I’m still working on Sunday.”

Henri sat up a little higher. “Who’s Mrs. Blanchard?”

“The woman who’s trying to figure out how you two are getting in McGraw Tower and failing.”

“Oh, her,” said Max. “Josephine.”

“She’s come at me since I know your mother,” said Diane.

“Mom doesn’t know anything,” said Henri.

“That’s why I didn’t ask. You two are all Derek. Derek did this kinda stuff and people loved him. I loved him and I’m gay.”

The waiter hurried over and slipped her drink in front of her. Diane sucked down half of it and ordered another. “Oh, yeah. I needed that.”

“To be fair,” said Mariah. “People did love it. Not me. People.”

“You loved it,” said Max.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes.

“We did it for Cornell,” said Henri.

Diane looked at him with absolute astonishment. “You broke into the tower for us?”

“Not the first time,” said Max. “That was just for fun.”

“And then you kept on doing it? Why? Do you want our school to look like a bunch of nut jobs?”

“Huh?”

“Have you seen the videos? Students, professors, security. Everyone is freaking out, acting like there are fires or crickets or whatever. They look like they’re crazy. Cornell is crazy.”

Max lowered her scarf. “It’s better than being the MurderIvy.”

“We are the MurderIvy,” said Diane.

“We fixed it,” said Henri. “Everyone’s talking about the chimes and crickets, and who played ‘Houdini’.”

Diane polished off her drink. “Parents are calling us and they aren’t asking about the chimes. They’re asking about our crime rate and comparing us to New Haven. Unfavorably. They will pull their kids. Right now prospective students are making their choices about which school to attend. They aren’t going to pick us because we’re the MurderIvy.”

“What’s in New Haven?” Max asked.

“Yale,” said Mariah.

“You’re not going to Yale,” said Henri.

“I’m not going anywhere if this doesn’t get fixed. I’ve got the MurderIvy, Max and Henri, and the Donna-the-Mistress-of-Death-her-mom-fed-her-drugs stink on me,” said Mariah. “Uncle Jeff is considering filing for custody. Again.”

“That’s not going to happen,” said Jess. “I’ll talk to him.”

“And say what? Donna D’Angelo is a criminal and a nut. Everyone knows that and they don’t care.”

Henri sat up. “Yale has murders too. A lot more.”

Diane accepted her second drink with gratitude before saying, “Why do you think that?”

“Because it’s Yale.”

“Not helpful,” said Mariah.

“I get it,” said Max. “Mom, remember when Dad had to play golf with that Yale guy?”

“Oh, I remember,” I said. “He was special.”

“He was a turd. I caddied for them. That guy was always like ‘when I was at Yale’ and ‘At Yale’ and ‘You must understand Yale has.’ What a dill hole.”

Diane sighed. “I’m not clear on what a dill hole is, but I assume you have a point?”

“If Yale students are like him, people must kill them all the time,” said Mariah. “That’s it, right?”

The boys grinned at us.

“But we’re the MurderIvy. Us,” said Diane. “Not them.”

Max and Henri sat up straight and said in unison. “We will fix it.”

“No, no,” I said. “Do not fix it.”

“We have a great idea,” said Henri.

“Foolproof,” said Max.

“Like the chimes?” Jess asked.

“Better.”

I sipped my drink and asked, “Alright. What is it?”

“It has to be a surprise,” said Henri.

“Then the answer is no.”

“Nobody asked a question,” said Max.

“No.”

“Trust us,” said Henri.

Diane looked down into her empty glass. “I’m going to get fired.”

“Nobody’s getting fired,” said Max. “We know what we’re doing and Jordyn will bring it home.”

“Jordyn?” Diane asked as she flagged down the waiter.

She ordered a third drink and then we ordered dinner while Mariah explained how solving the case would put a pin in Donna’s whole MurderIvy thing. Dr. Miniver didn’t do it and there was no serial killer running around Ithaca.

“But it’s still murder,” said Diane. “Let’s leave well enough alone.”

“Donna the Mistress of Death isn’t leaving it alone,” said Jess. “Did you hear about the fire alarm today?”

“I did. Our fire department hasn’t had this active of a weekend in a while and it’s not even fire season.”

Jess polished off her drink and asked for another. I wasn’t thrilled with all the drinking, but she and Diane were more relaxed and that counted for something.

“She won’t stop,” I said. “And the kids didn’t start it. She was already posting about Dr. Miniver before we even got here.”

“You amplified her insanity,” said Diane.

“We wouldn’t be the first,” said Jess.

“I suppose not. We’ve known about her for a while and decided that she’d run out of steam eventually. There’s no evidence. We thought it would go away.”

I reached over and took Diane’s hand. “Then we poked her. It wasn’t on purpose, but I’m sorry.”

My friend leaned over and put her head on my shoulder. “I know, but there’s nothing we can do. People will believe anything these days. The more sensational the better.”

“Mom and Jess will solve it,” said Max.

“And then Jordyn will do a rockin’ podcast and wipe up the floor with Donna the Mistress of Death,” said Henri. “Simple.”

“Right,” I said. “So simple.”

The Eggs grinned at me, nodding, as the waiter brought our starters and for a few minutes I let the magic of perfect arancini take me away.

“Oh my god, that’s good,” said Diane, dipping a chip into gooey cheese. “It almost makes me think anything is possible.”

“Drinks and fondue can do that,” said Jess. “The arancini is amazing too. I could’ve just had that for dinner and been happy.”

“Anything is possible,” said Mariah.

I looked at her, but she wasn’t looking at us. Hambone was on another table, surrounded by crows all going after the guests’ plates. Diane looked over and frowned.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, but outdoing that evil woman isn’t possible. Like I said, we looked into her. She always comes out on top. Always.”

“Ginny Cushing was murdered,” said Jess.

“That might be so, but how would you prove it?”

“We need a witness to prove Todd West was here in town,” I said.

Mariah swiped the last arancini out from under Max’s fork and laughed before saying, “We need a ghost.”

Jess nodded. “Dr. Bledsoe’s house is chock full, but none of them were on campus that night.”

“There must be more,” said Mariah. “Did Dr. Miniver ask all his students?”

“He says he did,” I said.

“I can’t believe we’re discussing ghosts,” said Diane.

I patted her hand. “We can’t either but it is what it is.”

“What about that guy in the tower?” Mariah asked.

Diane sat up. “What guy?”

The boys described the ghost in the tower, the one with the awesome leisure suit.

“So you’re saying there’s a ghost in McGraw tower just living there?” Diane asked.

“In a manner of speaking,” I said. “He’s not doing any harm.”

“Who is he?”

“James,” said Max. “He was a chimesmaster. He’s cool and we did ask him, but he never leaves the building.”

“Why not?” Mariah asked.

The boys shrugged.

“Well, we’ve asked everyone,” said Jess. “We’ll have to think of something else.”

“What about that weird guy?” Henri asked.

“What weird guy?” I asked.

Max shivered. “I hate talking to him. He sucks.”

Mariah fixed a fierce gaze on him. “What guy?”

“I don’t know his name. He keeps trying to get us to go look at his brain.”

“Yeah,” said Henri. “What a freak. ‘Come look at my brain, boys. It will give you a thrill.’ No thanks, ya perv.”

Our dinners arrived just in time to distract me from brain viewing and a dead perv talking to my boys. I dug into my chicken parm and hoped I wouldn’t have to think about it for five minutes, but that wasn’t to be.

“What does he look like?” Diane asked.

“Like a perv,” said Henri.

“That’s not a description,” said Mariah. “When did he die?”

Max inhaled some rigatoni and then said, “A long time ago.”

The boys described a middle-aged man who was stout and had greying hair that was greasy and reached to his shoulders.

“Hold on,” said Jess and she reached into her purse to pull out a small sketching pad.

“What are you doing?” Diane asked.

“Drawing the ghost,” said Mariah. “It’s kinda Mom’s business now.”

“You draw ghosts and then what?”

“The Horny Hotel sells the prints and originals,” Jess said.

“Your town has a hotel called the Horny Hotel?”

“It’s a long story,” I said.

“And I want to hear it at some point.”

The boys went over their description again, adding in a neck beard, small dark eyes, and pockmarks on his cheeks. Diane listened, getting paler and paler.

“You want to tell them about his fingernails?” Max asked.

Henri made a face.

“I think you have to,” I said.

Max grimaced. “His fingernails are always dirty.”

“What’s so bad about that? The trappers are completely dirty,” said Mariah.

“I don’t think it’s dirt.”

“What is it?”

“Might be blood.”

Diane muttered something. Jess showed the boys her sketch and they helped with a few more details.

I looked at Diane. “You know who it is?”

“I hope not,” she said, concentrating on her pile of seafood.

“Done,” said Jess and she tucked away her colored pencils. “Ready?”

Diane muttered no, but the rest of us said yes.

Jess turned around her sketch and like all her work it was vivid and incredibly lifelike. “Is this him?”

“That’s him,” said Henri.

Diane looked stunned and I asked the boys, “Where did you see him?”

“The Welcome Center, the bridge, in front of the tower, and he was lurking around the library,” said Max.

Mariah took the sketch from her mom. “I’ve never seen him and I was all those places.”

“He doesn’t like girls,” said Henri. “I think he thinks that makes him more…trustworthy to us, but dude, it really doesn’t.”

“He’s gay?” Diane asked.

“No, he just doesn’t like women.”

The table full of women didn’t know what to do with that. The boys explained that the man considered women to be stupid and pointless. They cost money and had opinions. He enjoyed killing them, but that was about it.

Diane put her head down. “I can’t believe it.”

“What?” Max asked.

“We have another murderer,” I said.

“Oh, yeah, but he was forever ago.”

“How many women did he kill?” Jess asked, looking a little sick.

Henri shrugged. “He said twenty, but he seems like a liar. He keeps saying he’s a genius. Anyone does that and you know they’re not.”

“Yeah,” said Max. “His numbers are always different. He’s probably just a liar.”

“What about the blood under his fingernails?” Mariah asked.

“That doesn’t look good, but he’s still a weirdo.”

“I don’t care if he’s a murderer or a weirdo,” said Jess. “He’s a potential witness and that’s what counts.”

“You don’t want to trust him,” said Diane.

“Who is he?” Max asked.

“You said he wants you to look at his brain?”

The boys nodded.

“Any specific reason?” Diane asked.

They rolled their eyes.

“He says his brain is the biggest on record,” said Henri. “If he murdered people, his brain is nothin’ to brag about.”

Diane blew out a breath and took a long drink before asking to see Jess’ sketch. “It’s got to be Rulloff.”

“Who’s that?” Mariah asked.

“Oh, you’re kidding,” I said.

“You know who it is, Mom?” Henri asked.

I told him what little I knew about Edward H. Rulloff, a serial killer that was associated with Cornell, but he was out of the area before the school was founded.

“Is his brain huge and impressive?” Max asked. “That’s what he says.”

“It’s slightly larger than the other brains we have,” said Diane.

“Why do you have brains?” Mariah asked.

“I don’t know. Science.”

“So he wants you to look at his brain,” I said. “You can do that.”

“Do we have to?” Henri asked. “He gives me the creeps.”

“Just him?” Diane asked. “Not James in the tower?”

“Nope. Just him.”

I smiled at Jess. “I bet we have a witness.”

“A dead one,” said Diane. “I can’t believe I just said that. I’m going Cornell crazy.”

“You’re not,” Jess said. “We’ll talk to this Rulloff guy and see what he knows, or rather, the boys will.”

Max pumped his fist. “We will do it.”

“It won’t fix that horrible Donna,” said Diane.

The boys grinned at her.

“We’ll take care of MurderIvy,” said Henri.

“I’m so scared.”

I was worried too if I’m honest, but the boys had a look about them that made me stay quiet. It was a Derek look and Derek’s plans always worked out. Fingers crossed.

“I can’t wait to see this,” said Mariah.

Me too.

The kids got right to work the minute we got back and they had help. Several guests that we’d met in the parking lot during the fire alarm had shown up to help. We had the head of marketing for a major shoe label. A therapist eager to help the kids with the stress of dealing with a toxic personality—aka Donna—and some alumni there for tours with their own kids. They had some stories for the podcast. There was a lot of weird in the nineties. Trent agreed to be interviewed about his interactions with Donna, and Mariah dug up some of her rival podcasters, the ones she had swatted or threatened.

Mark and Susan were mixing drinks for the adults and wrangling the entire herd so Jess and I slipped out to put on super stretchy yoga pants and enormous sweatshirts. The kind of clothes Donna wouldn’t be seen dead in.

Jess went face down on her bed while I washed off the minuscule amount of mascara I had left on my lashes and applied a fresh coat of pimple cream. When did pimples stop happening? Hadn’t I suffered enough?

Someone knocked on the door and my first thought was that Donna got back in the hotel. Maybe I could trap her in the bathroom like the opossum my parents discovered in our cabin at the Lake of the Ozarks. They lured it in with bologna before calling animal control. Donna was more like the Goldschläger and caviar type, but I wasn’t above lying. Animal control seemed appropriate for her too.

“Who is it, Jess?”

No answer.

I peeked out to find my best friend snoring on the bed.

“Never mind. I’ll get it.”

I looked through the peephole and Leo was in the hall, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and lime green swim trunks. He looked fabulous with wet hair and a tinge of pink on his cheeks.

“Come in, Leo,” I called out.

“Are you decent?”

“Of course.”

“Just checking.” Leo popped in and filled the room with the smell of suntan lotion and summer. “Someone’s tired.”

“She had two large drinks,” I said.

“And you?”

“Water.”

An old-fashioned lawn chair with the woven strips popped up behind Leo and he sat down. “Good night?”

I held my hand out and jiggled it. “So so.”

“Case not going well?”

“Better now,” I said.

“You got new information?” Leo asked, his dark eyes lighting up.

“No, you’re here.”

He beamed at me. “That’s so nice. Sorry about the attire. Darren is having a Sunday night luau to celebrate his taxes being done.”

“Did he roast a pig in a pit?”

“My son wouldn’t wreck the yard to roast a pig. He made a pork butt and called it good.”

“Your pork butt?”

“Is there any other pork butt?” Leo asked with a grin.

“Not in my book.” I finished rubbing in my cream and lay down on the bed. “Do you have something on Todd? Is he a cheat?”

“Is the Pope Polish?”

“Not currently, no.”

“I keep forgetting we lost John Paul.” Leo got sad for a moment and then said, “Todd West is the MVP of cheats. Darren and I filled up two pages with questionable practices. Everything from writing off his girlfriend’s leg waxes as a business expense to failure to report income. The whole shell company thing may actually be a front for money laundering.”

“How do you know what’s on Todd’s taxes?”

Leo smiled and looked a bit like a pirate when he did. “I know a guy at the IRS.”

“A live guy?”

“Not so much, but he knows a live guy and watched over his shoulder.”

“So the live IRS knows?”

He nodded.

“How long will it take to do something about it?” I asked.

“Todd West will receive a visit from a pair of agents tomorrow,” said Leo.

I sat up. “They’re not going to just do an audit?”

“Todd claims to be living in a single-wide trailer in Yonkers.”

“They want to catch him in the act?” I asked.

“Yes, they do.”

“You might want to warn them.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “About what? Is he dangerous? I know you believe he killed Ginny Cushing, but is he violent in a general sense?”

I was forced to say he wasn’t and it was really weird. I did believe that Todd killed Ginny, but it was hard to square that with the guy doing yoga in a thong.

“He must be very confident about his body,” said Leo, a man who was also confident and had every right to be.

“Oh, he is and the thong is likely, not to mention the charm.” I sat back. “Tomorrow. Dr. Miniver isn’t satisfied, but at least Todd won’t be happy. That’s something.”

“The thin edge of the wedge,” said Leo.

“I like the sound of that.”

“I knew you would.”

“Has Donna the Mistress of Death done anything else to St. Sebastian? Do people hate us yet? Last we heard, Sylvia said everyone thinks it’s funny.”

“Someone tried to have Larry Fischer’s new house swatted,” said Leo.

“He didn’t tell us that,” I said. “What happened? Is everyone okay?”

“Libby, my dear, St. Seb doesn’t have a swat team. Chief Stratton and Bart went over and Larry made them French dips. They had a swell time. Grandpa Hank is ready to fight though.”

“When isn’t he?” I asked.

“Good point. What do you think about letting him haunt Donna D’Angelo for a while? Larry threw that out there and I said I’d ask you.”

“Let’s keep Grandpa Hank in our back pocket. The kids have a plan.”

Leo smiled. “Good enough.”

Chapter Eighteen

Monday was a school day for Ava, Jordyn, and the rest of the Cornellians and they weren’t happy about it. Olivia, Isabelle, and Josh decided that meant they got to sleep, but Max and Henri were up at the crack of dawn to work on their plan to beat MurderIvy. They asked if they could take an Uber to the sorority that taught them stepping. I said yes, mostly because I was so tired that I couldn’t handle the badgering that would follow a no. As a result, I slept in so Jess and I were alone in the breakfast room with enormous cups of coffee and piles of eggs, sausage, and potatoes that the staff made for us even though we were too late for the normal breakfast.

Jess jumped out of bed with buckets of energy and went for a run. She hadn’t done that since before Hal died and I wasn’t sure how to take it. Was it a good sign? Was she going to stop eating again? She even asked me to go with her. Like that would happen. I was very committed to drinking Nespresso in bed and watching a Law and Order marathon. Love that Lenny Briscoe.

After her run, Jess conducted a watercolors class via FaceTime with some early risers at the Horny Hotel. That wasn’t scheduled. She called up the manager and said she was in the mood to teach. Mr. Anders rustled up a class and she taught it while I was deep in my second episode.

Mariah was asleep with headphones on and a nuclear blast couldn’t have woken her up. After her class, Jess showered and blew out her hair. Then she put on makeup, not a lot, but it was there, and said, “Time to eat. Let’s go.”

I’d showered the night before and in a fit of laziness, I let my hair dry while I slept. “Right now?”

“You look fine.”

“I can see myself in the mirror.”

She grabbed my foot and shook it. “I have a good feeling. Todd’s getting arrested for something and it’s going to be great.”

“The IRS isn’t going to arrest Todd,” I said.

“You never know.”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“Get up.”

I got up and slicked back my hair because that was truly the only reasonable option and then slathered on some coverup and foundation to disguise my rancid chin. I had two fresh ones. Todd was a scumbag and his skin was perfect. Life was unfair.

When I sat down, Jess was plowing through a stack of waffles sandwiched with bacon, eggs, and plenty of syrup.

“What’s up with you?” I asked.

“I slept.”

“Did you take something?”

“Two swizzles and all the food,” said Jess.

“You did eat.”

“And I slept.”

I eyed her dwindling pile of food. Maybe I’d gotten so used to her lack of eating that it had become a normal. Jess used to eat a lot. I remembered so much joy in food in the distant past.

“I feel better,” said Jess.

“You were kind of drunk.”

“I think I needed that. Diane was truly lit. I hope she forgives us for this visit. Oh, call Julie in Paris. I need more syrup.”

She jumped up and dashed for the buffet.

“Who are you and what have you done with Jess?” I called out after her.

“Hilarious! Call Julie!”

“Calling!”

Julie Strachey answered on the first ring. “I thought you’d call today.”

“Premonition?” I asked.

“I saw the photo of you two standing outside your hotel after you supposedly set it on fire yesterday.”

“Ah, Donna D’Angelo strikes again.”

“Is she unstable?”

“I’d say so,” I said. “Do you have a minute?”

“I’m waiting for my lovely husband to pick a cheese for dinner. I have all day,” said Julie.

“Do you remember where Ginny lived in Ithaca?”

Julie didn’t remember the street address, but it was in Collegetown and a Victorian. That could be one of a hundred houses and I started to feel that my confidence was misplaced.

“Can you describe it?” I asked.

“Three stories. Ginny was on the second. She had a fabulous view. We used to sit in her window and enjoy it. Don’t tell my husband I said that,” said Julie.

Jess sat down. “Oh, that sounds juicy. Are we talking a sexy view?”

Julie laughed. “Not always but frequently. There was a frat across the street and they were allergic to shirts and loved to work out. I think half the hockey team was in that frat. Hockey boys were my favorite.”

“Was your husband a hockey boy?” I asked.

“Douglas played chess and backgammon. He still does.”

“What I’m hearing is no six-pack,” said Jess.

“He can cook and knows a ridiculous amount about wine. We’re currently in Paris so I’m not complaining,” Julie said with a laugh.

“Nerd power,” said Jess.

“I love a good nerd. There were no nerds across the street from Ginny. It was a nice change of scene for us. Law school was exhausting.”

“Do you remember which frat it was?” I asked.

“Sorry, no, but they had an adorable house. It should never have been a frat. I don’t know how that happened.”

Jess and I looked at each other and then Jess described Dr. Bledsoe’s house with all its charm and gingerbread trim.

“That’s it. I don’t know why I’m surprised that you know it. Ithaca isn’t very big.”

“Thank you so much,” I said.

“Does that help?”

“I think so. We didn’t realize it was so close to Todd’s house.”

Julie made a grumbling noise. “Yes, it was just a couple of blocks. They used to cut through the yards to get to each other. I was trying to get her to move into my place midyear so I wouldn’t get another random roommate from hell, but she wouldn’t move because she had to be close to Todd. I ended up with another exchange student who thought deodorant was only for dating and, let me tell you, she did not date.”

“Have you thought of anything else that might help?” Jess asked.

“No. I wish I had.”

“You’re absolutely sure that Todd was supposed to be staying for spring break?”

“Oh, I forgot,” said Julie. “I got ahold of Stephanie and I asked her if she knew anything.”

My chest got tight, but the answer was no. Stephanie said we could call her but she didn’t remember anything new. She did confirm Julie’s recollection that Todd was staying in Ithaca for break. Stephanie heard him say it herself. She remembered thinking it was weird that he went home after all and thought that maybe Todd had dumped Ginny and that was why she jumped.

“But he said nothing about breaking up, did he?” I asked.

“Like I told you, he wouldn’t speak to us, but I have to say that if I’d broken up with someone and that happened, I probably wouldn’t be spreading it around. Did you talk to Todd?”

“We did,” said Jess.

“Tell me he’s fat and disgusting,” said Julie.

We didn’t reply.

“Damn,” she said. “Did he admit anything?”

“He barely admitted to knowing Ginny,” said Jess.

“What a worm.”

I couldn’t have agreed more.

I parked in front of the Bledsoe house a half hour later and we got out to look across the street at the house where Ginny lived. Compared to the gingerbread confection across the street, her Victorian was fairly simple with no turret or special trim. Its main claim to fame was its size and a huge wraparound porch that desperately needed a carpenter and a coat of paint.

Jess pointed at the set of windows on the left. “That’s it.”

“No fire escape,” I said.

“It must be in the back.” Jess led the way across the street and we walked through the driveway where a beat-up Q45 was parked in front of a gate that hung open. We squeezed through and went into the back past a couple of rusting barbecues and a fire pit with not one but three large trash cans filled to overflowing with liquor bottles and fast-food containers.

“Ah, college,” said Jess. “When you can be gross and no one cares.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “This is taking it a bit too far.”

“I have two words for you.”

“Seth Porter?”

“The very ones.”

“You’re never going to let that go.” I walked around the cans to the fire escape. It was in better shape than Todd’s by a long sight. “I didn’t even date him for that long.”

“Long enough to get pink eye,” said Jess.

“Remember that rodeo clown that⁠—”

“Seth? Seth who?”

I chuckled and looked up at the second-floor window that would presumably lead into Ginny’s former apartment. “This is pretty private.”

Jess turned around and scanned the area. The yard wasn’t huge, but it had gigantic oaks and maples that had been there a very long time. Even without leaves, they gave excellent cover from the other houses.

I walked to the back of the property where there was another gate. I yanked it open with a painful screech of rusty metal. “I can see Todd’s.”

“Is there another fence to get through?” Jess asked.

“Nope.”

“So it could’ve happened at either house.”

“Do you think Gary’s home?” I asked with a smile.

“I don’t think Gary ever leaves.”

We walked out of the yard and across the street to Dr. Bledsoe’s house that was amazingly silent for the former frat. All the ghostly debris was gone. No kegs or cans. No vintage cars or carriages. It was peaceful, but peaceful wasn’t what we needed.

The door opened before we had a chance to knock. Galey stood in the doorway with a headset on and holding a cup of coffee. “I thought that was you. Come in. My meeting is almost over.”

We followed him into the front room where he’d set up a little home office on the window seat.

“Thanks, Joe. I’ll get Jen on that review immediately.” Galey took off his headset and laid it on the cushion next to his laptop. “So that’s done.”

“Did you see us snooping?” I asked as I peered out the window.

“I see everything. When the weather is warmer, I work on the porch. When it’s cold, I’m here. I say I have a splendid view of snoopers, but more often it’s loafers avoiding class. Would you like some coffee?”

We wanted so much coffee and followed him into the kitchen that the Bledsoes had designed to be modern but with a nod to the age of the house. Galey made us a couple of hazelnut cappuccinos. I was so grateful after all the hotel coffee.

“So why are you snooping around that house? Looking for ghost witnesses?”

“We weren’t,” said Jess. “Although that would’ve been nice to find.”

“No ghosts over there?”

“Not a one.”

“Just us then,” said Galey. “My wife is not thrilled with the situation.”

I took a sip of a very good cappuccino and watched a vast array of emotions pass over Galey’s face.

“Is she okay?” I asked.

“Not really. It’s weird to think we’re not alone. I couldn’t bring myself to shower this morning. Joanna showered at the club.”

“I don’t blame her,” said Jess.

“How do you deal with it?”

“Our ghosts are pretty respectful. Not necessarily because they want to be though.”

We explained that Leo was a sweetheart and that he had the power to control other ghosts in ways they didn’t enjoy.

“He’s unique that way?” Galey asked.

“As far as we can tell,” I said.

“Is anyone here now?”

I looked over at Gary who was asleep on a card table that was half in the island.

“You’ve got company,” said Jess.

“The dogs?”

“Nope,” I said. “Where are the live ones by the way?”

“Joanna took them to the groomer. I guess the rest went too,” said Galey. “The dogs do seem to enjoy getting prettied up. So who is here?”

“Gary,” said Jess.

“What’s he saying?”

“Nothing. He’s asleep.”

Galey pulled out his phone and brought up a picture. “Is this him?”

It was a picture of Gary in a snazzy blue tux with his feathered hair blowing in the breeze.

“That’s him,” said Jess.

“Gary Philpot. He died so young,” said Galey. “Is there any way to make him move on?”

“No,” I said. “That’s not a thing.”

“But your Leo could make him leave.”

“He could, but he wouldn’t,” said Jess. “This is Gary’s house the way he sees it and he loves his home. Leo wouldn’t hurt him that way.”

“I thought maybe we could hire you to fix whatever it is that’s keeping them here,” said Galey.

“You’d go broke,” said Jess. “Your house is very popular and nobody’s here for sad reasons.”

“I was afraid of that, but I had to ask. So why were you over there?”

“It’s where Ginny Cushing was living,” I said.

That took Galey aback and he had to gather his thoughts for a moment while spooning an obscene amount of sugar into his coffee.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why but that bothers me.”

“Ginny’s a little more real now,” said Jess.

“That’s it,” said Galey. “Does that house help somehow?”

“No, but your ghosts might.”

He smiled. “Oh, I get it. Can you wake up Gary?”

We couldn’t and we tried. Gary wasn’t asleep so much as unconscious. We discussed calling Leo, but he was so nice that I didn’t think he’d be willing to do anything too harsh to Gary since he hadn’t done anything nasty to us. We needed harsh or at least not gentle.

“How sensitive are you to smell?” Jess asked.

Galey drew back. “What do you mean?”

Jess pulled up photos of her portraits of the trappers on her phone. “They stink, but they would wake him up.”

“When you say stink…”

“We mean stink. Like oh my god what is that smell stink,” I said.

Galey closed his eyes. “Do it.”

“Boy!” I called out. “Jedidiah! Wheeler! Johnny!”

“One’s name is Boy?” Galey asked.

“He can’t remember his real name,” said Jess.

“That’s very sad.”

“But he’s not.”

“Interesting.”

We tried again and got nothing. Jess called Mr. Anders and he said that a bachelorette party had just checked in. They were into the hotel’s pampering with a side of ghosts. The women were pretty good looking so he was sure the trappers would be ogling them at the hot tub. Jess got him to go down there and tell Johnny to listen to us and a couple of minutes later, the oldest and least horny of the trappers popped into the kitchen, making Galey gag.

“What’s so important that you got to take me away from them women?” Johnny asked. He appeared at an age I’d never seen before. He was about eighteen and his leathers were new and unstained. The smell was minimal for him, but you’d never have known that from Galey’s expression.

“We just need a favor,” said Jess.

“A favor.” Johnny slapped his hands together. “I like that. Whatcha gonna give me?”

“Our thanks and appreciation,” I said.

A dead opossum appeared in his hand and he held it up to Galey’s face. “This is what I thinks of appreciation.”

Galey fell off the stool. “Oh, Jesus. What is that?”

“Opossum,” said Jess. “He likes it.”

“For what?”

“Tell him that this is good eatin’,” said Johnny.

“It’s tasty,” I said. “What will it take to get you to wake up that guy over there?”

Johnny looked over at Gary with his pool of drool on the table. “What’d he do?”

“Nothing. He might have information for us.”

The ghost raised a brow and then scratched his head. I think I saw fleas jumping around on his coonskin cap, but it’s best not to dwell on things like that.

“I want to live in the house,” Johnny said.

“You are not moving in,” said Jess. “You know Leo won’t allow it.”

“How ‘bout the place where you poop?”

I rolled my eyes. “The bathroom is in the house.”

“But Leo don’t go in there.”

“There’s a reason for that,” I said.

He whipped off his cap and slapped it on his leg. Fleas definitely went flying. “Leo needs to ease up on us. We’re ghosts just the same as him.”

“It’s his house,” said Jess. “Now what do you want?”

“A little titty?”

“Why do you keep asking for that? It’s never going to happen.”

“Never’s a long time,” said Johnny with a gap-toothed grin. “I know.”

“How about Easter?”

“What’s that?”

I explained and offered to let him come to Easter dinner. The trappers loved holidays. They hadn’t really experienced them in life so a seat at the table was a strong motivator. Johnny went for it. Joyous that he’d be getting something the other trappers wouldn’t. Always a competition with those four.

“Is he going to do it?” Galey asked, holding his nose.

“He’s doing it right now.”

Johnny had to work on Gary for a good ten minutes to get him to open his eyes. The opossum didn’t work. Walking through him didn’t get a twitch. Neither did screaming or firing his hunting rifle next to his ear. I’d just about given up when Johnny pulled out his secret weapon. He changed to his rotting smell. Galey fled the room and Gary opened an eye. “What in the hell?”

Johnny pointed at me and Jess. “Easter?”

“Done,” I said and the trapper popped out, taking the smell of death with him.

“You can come back,” said Jess and Galey peeked around the kitchen door.

“That was the worst thing I have ever smelled,” he said.

“Oh, we know,” I said.

“And that was a real trapper? From the 1820s?”

“Or thereabouts,” said Jess. “They aren’t clear on dates.”

“Fascinating,” said Galey. “I was a double major in History and English for a while until I realized making a living writing historical non-fiction was a pipe dream. I’d love to see those guys.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” I said. “Gary, you awake?”

Gary yawned and stretched. “You chicas are more trouble than you’re worth. Why are you bothering me? I asked everyone about that girl and the bridge. Nobody saw anything.”

“Do you remember that night?” Jess asked.

“1982. Spring break. Blah. Blah. Blah. I wasn’t on campus.” Gary held out his hand and a beer appeared in it.

“Where were you?” I asked.

“Here. I’m always here.” The ghost eyed us and then glared at Galey, who was breathing deep his coffee to clear the funk. “I’m not leaving. Don’t get any ideas. I’ve been here longer than him and I’ll be here after he leaves.”

“We get that,” said Jess. “We want to know if you saw Todd West at the house across the street that night.”

Gary yawned and cracked his knuckles. “That blond one?”

“Yes.”

“No, but I’m an inside guy. I never got into the kegger on the lawn thing and I don’t wrestle so…”

“Were the other guys here?” I asked.

“Sure. There’s always a party and it was a Friday.”

“It’s possible that it was Saturday,” said Jess.

“Doesn’t matter. Either way, we were here,” said Gary and he chugged his beer.

“Can you ask the other guys?”

Gary crushed the can right on the hardwood floor. Now I knew why it had such an odd patina.

“Sure,” he said and put his head down on the card table.

“How about now?” Jess asked.

“Nope.” He closed his eyes.

“Why not?”

“They’re not here. I’ll see some of them tonight.”

“Gary, please,” I begged.

“Leave me alone. Tonight. I’ll ask tonight.”

“It’s been forty years,” said Gary. “Who gives a crap?”

Before we could say that we did, in fact, give a crap, Gary popped out, leaving the faint scent of stale beer in his wake.

“No good?” Galey asked.

“He’ll ask tonight,” said Jess.

“I guess it will have to wait.” He sniffed. “At least the smell cleared.”

Then we heard a series of pops and Galey gagged.

“What’s you playin’ at?” Boy asked.

We put our hands over our noses. It wasn’t the rotting smell, but they were certainly ripe.

“What?” Jess asked.

“You know what,” said Wheeler.

“Yeah,” said Jedidiah. “We want Easter too.”

Boy shoved an opossum at me. “We’ll bring a fresh kill.”

“Thanks but we’re good,” said Jess before she dry heaved.

“Who is it?” Galey asked. “And why do they hate me?”

“They don’t hate you,” I said. “They’re mad because Johnny’s coming to Easter.”

“Let them come to Easter then.” His shoulders started shaking.

“I have an idea,” I said. “A win-win.”

“Go for it,” said Jess, pinching her nose.

I turned away from the trappers and asked Galey, “Do you believe?”

“That I’m going to throw up? Yes. I am going to vomit.”

“No, that there are fur trappers in your kitchen.”

“Hell yeah.”

I spun back around to the trappers who were now all holding opossums in varying states of decomposition. It was a wonder that food poisoning didn’t kill them. “Okay. Easter is on the table. But we need you to let that guy see you.”

“Hold on,” said Galey.

The trappers sneered. They weren’t interested in men seeing them. Women, yes. Men, no.

“Look, if you want to come to Easter,” said Jess, “with a honey-baked ham and potatoes dripping with cheese and⁠—”

“What’s happening?” Galey asked. “Why are we doing this?”

“Because it’s easier to live with ghosts if you can see them,” I said. “If you see the trappers, you should be able to see the other ones, in theory.”

“And I can interview them about Ginny Cushing’s house,” he said, his face thoughtful.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” said Jess.

“I wouldn’t, but…”

“You like history, right?” I asked.

“I do. I love it.”

I gestured to the trappers who were picking their teeth and sniffing their opossums. “We have the best source material ever. Do you want to see them?”

“You said be careful what you wish for,” said Galey.

“And I meant it. The trappers are social and intrusive, but they will talk about their lives and their time.”

Wheeler, Jedidiah, and Boy stepped forward.

“He wants to talk to us?” Wheeler asked.

“He’s a historian and he wants your expertise,” said Jess.

“What’s exper…”

“Your life stories,” I said.

Boy smiled eagerly. “We got them stories. I can tell ‘em ‘bout my bear.”

“I wouldn’t start with that.” I looked at Galey. “Do you want to see them?”

He took a deep breath and said, “I hope Joanna forgives me, but yes, I do want to see them.”

“Put down your coffee,” said Jess.

“Oh, right.” Galey put down his coffee looking more than a little freaked out.

“Okay, boys,” I said. “For a seat at our Easter dinner with all the trimmings, let him see you.”

The trappers all looked at the budding historian and Galey Bledsoe passed out.

Chapter Nineteen

Two hours later, we drove away from the Bledsoe house convinced that we’d done a good thing if not a perfect thing. The trappers had a new friend and were thrilled. Galey thought they were fascinating, especially when they switched to their least smelly forms, and he was so happy that he was considering quitting his job to write full time. I wasn’t sure if Dr. Bledsoe would thank us for that, but we’d talked him out of it for the moment.

“Can you try the boys for me?” I asked as we drove toward campus.

Jess called and got voicemail. “Are you worried?”

“No, I’m irritated. They won’t say what they’re doing and they haven’t looked for Rulloff. We need to talk to that guy.”

“Our first serial killer. Lovely,” said Jess with a sneer.

“I don’t think he counts,” I said. “We don’t know for certain how many people he actually killed.”

“He killed his wife and daughter.”

“They never found the bodies,” I said.

“They never found them, period.”

I shivered. “I’m trying to believe they got away.”

“Good luck with that.”

My phone dinged and Jess looked. “It’s Max. He says they’re busy, but that they already ran over to the bridge to look for Rulloff. He wasn’t there.”

“What about the tower or where his brain is?”

Jess texted back and then said, “They’ll go later.”

“Tell him that murderers take priority.”

My phone rang before Jess had a chance to write that.

“It’s Darren,” she said.

“Can you get it?”

She answered and had a brief conversation about Todd before hanging up.

“Don’t tell me that the IRS isn’t doing it,” I said.

“Quite the opposite. They’re on their way now. Leo thought we’d like to know. He’s directing traffic on Fifth for Sgt. Thompson or he would’ve come to tell us himself.”

“Why is Leo directing traffic?”

“Sgt. Thompson is having a session with Pam and he wanted Fifth covered since Monday traffic is the worst,” said Jess.

“I wish he would accept that stop signs work,” I said.

“That’s not the same,” said Jess. “And it is St. Seb. We have certain standards to uphold.”

“Like ghost crossing guards.”

“You wouldn’t want an accident, would you?”

“The speed limit is twenty.”

“Give it up,” said Jess.

“Consider it given up.” I smiled at her. “To Shore Drive.”

“Oh, heck yeah. I’m going to enjoy this.”

Ten minutes later, we were parked down the street from Todd’s.

“And now we wait,” I said.

I was ready for the long haul, but about twenty minutes later a black sedan slowly rolled down Shore Drive and turned into Todd’s driveway. Jess and I bundled up before jumping out to dash over to get a look. My teeth were chattering as we watched two men in dark suits get out of the sedan. It was a sunny day, but there was an icy breeze coming off the lake. Predictably, that wasn’t a problem for Todd. He answered the door in his thong bikini with a broad smile and welcomed the agents in without hesitation. He didn’t spot us. I wish he had.

“How long do you think this will take?” I asked.

“Too long,” said Jess. “I wish we’d stopped for hand warmers and a propane heater.”

“Yeah. Nobody would notice that,” I said with a smile, leaning on the stone wall that graced the edge of Todd’s property.

“I can do fifteen minutes,” said Jess. “That’s my limit.”

Luckily, we didn’t need that long. Ten minutes later, the agents walked out with Todd wearing a fitted jogging suit, the kind that Hollywood types wore to clubs. His face betrayed nothing. Todd West appeared just as genial as he was with us, but Britney was a different story. She wore a set of sloppy Cornell sweats and was frantically dialing her phone.

An agent opened the back door of the sedan for Todd and Britney yelled, “She’s not answering!”

“You’ll have to go up there!” Todd called back.

Britney scurried back into the house and Todd said something to the agent. He shook his head and Todd went to duck into the car.

“Hey, Todd!” Jess yelled, holding up her phone and recording the whole scene.

Todd and the agents looked at us. We gave Todd finger waves and yelled, “Your sisters send their love!”

The perfect facade cracked. Just for a second but we saw it. Todd West was afraid. It was about time.

On the way back to the hotel, Henri called and asked what they should do for lunch. Hint. Hint. It was well past lunch and we were still full from our super late breakfast, but I played along.

“I know you’ve been working hard. We’ll bring you something,” I said.

“No, no. We just wanted to know if we could order on your Instacart.”

“It’s fine. We’ll pick something up and deliver.”

“We’re not telling you the plan, Mom,” said Henri.

“Nobody’s asking for the plan. How about the taco truck? I hear the burritos are fantastic.”

“We’ll meet you there. Where is it?”

“We’ll bring it to you,” I said.

Henri muted and I waited. Max got back on the line and asked, “What’s going on? Are we in trouble?”

“You are not in trouble,” said Jess, holding up the phone with one hand and then covering her mouth with the other to hold back her laughter.

“We don’t want to come back to the hotel,” said Henri.

“Nobody asked for that,” I said. “Do you want burritos or not?”

The boys muted themselves again.

“Hunger will win out,” said Jess. “They probably used up all their cash on vending machines.”

Henri came back. “What’s the catch? We know you’re doing something.”

“How do you feel about brains?” I asked.

“I’m a fan of mine. Max’s is not so great.”

“Hey,” said Max. “You want some of this.”

There was a huge amount of laughter in the background. A lot of girls and I do mean a lot.

“Are you in a theater?” Jess asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” said Henri.

“Actually, we don’t care. If you want food, you’ll come to Uris Hall,” I said.

“Excellent. We’re following in Dad’s footsteps and having burritos in the library,” said Max. “He’ll be so proud.”

“Nope, not the library.” I gave him directions and got silence in response. Then I heard the boys conferring with someone and then someone else.

“You’re trying to meet us at the brains,” said Henri.

“Do you want to help Dr. Miniver or not?” Jess asked.

“I don’t want to eat a burrito while looking at brains,” said Max.

“It’s brains and burritos or no burritos at all,” I said, playing hardball.

The boys grumbled.

“We’re not even close to there,” said Henri. “We’ll look for that weirdo later.”

“Hey, Jess, what do you think Leo would say? Should we ask him or hey, the trappers are in town why don’t we ask them? Girls love the smell of⁠—”

“No, no, we’re coming,” said Henri. “But Mom, he might not even be there.”

“If he loves his brain as much as you say he does, I’m betting your presence will bring him right over,” I said.

“You should know that you are interrupting a masterpiece in progress,” said Max.

“Duly noted. We’ll see you in a half hour.”

Jess hung up and we went for burritos. It took longer than I expected and we found the boys lurking near the brains deep in the bowels of Uris Hall, a world away from the charm of the library.

I held up a bulging bag. “Burritos anyone?”

The boys grimaced.

“Are you okay?” asked Jess.

“He’s not here,” said Henri. “We can leave.”

“Since when are you so squeamish?” I asked. “You two can handle the trappers rotting better than anyone else.”

“That’s because the trappers are cool guys. This guy isn’t cool.”

The boys shivered and I wondered if I should be doing this.

“Can he do anything?” I asked.

“Like what?”

“Touch you.”

They recoiled and made like they were going to hurl.

“We’ll take that as a no,” said Jess.

“Look,” I said. “We’re here. Leo and the trappers are a shout away. It will be fine.”

The boys glanced over their shoulders down the hall that looked like any boring old office-type hall with white walls and horrible lighting. The only exception was the inset display case on the right. Etched on the top of the glass was Department of Psychology and at the bottom was A Selection from the Wilder Brain Collection. There were only eight brains in the case floating around in their glass jars with short biographies about the person who donated it. I read that there was something like a hundred brains in the collection and I wondered if they rotated the selection. I’d never seen it before so I didn’t know if it had changed.

“He’s still not here,” said Max.

“Have you called him?” I asked.

They rolled their eyes.

“Try it,” said Jess. “Leo and the trappers hear us.”

The looks on their faces said they’d rather not be able to summon a self-described serial killer, but they said his name and ask for him to come. Nothing happened.

“And we’re done,” said Henri.

Jess took him by the shoulders and steered him toward the brains. “I have an idea.”

“Oh, man,” said Max. “Just give us our burritos. He’s not here.”

I made Max follow Jess and Henri. We stopped in front of the brain Rulloff was so proud of. It looked like an ordinary brain to me.

“Tell him you’re looking at his brain,” I said.

They weren’t looking, but Max did and nothing happened. Then Henri tried to no avail.

“Can we go? Our burritos will get cold,” said Max glancing at the door.

Jess raised her voice. “I guess this was a wasted trip. I don’t know why they display that Rulloff brain.”

“Yeah, it’s not even the best one,” I said.

Max grabbed my arm. “Don’t do that.”

“As far as brains go this woman’s brain has a lot more wrinkles in it.”

“Oh jeez,” muttered Henri.

“Yes,” said Jess. “The women’s brains are much more impressive.”

The boys jumped and backed away, bumping into the wall opposite the display case.

“They don’t mean it,” said Henri, breathless.

“Yeah, they just want to talk to you,” said Max with a shiver. “Stop that. It’s weird.”

Jess leaned over to me. “I’m rethinking this.”

“I will not be bullied by a half-wit criminal that’s so afraid of women that he won’t even show himself,” I said.

“Mom!” cried the boys.

“Look at that brain. Someone explain to me why it’s so special,” I said.

Max took a breath and said, “He says that it’s⁠—”

“Nope. He can tell me himself. Come on, Rulloff. Show me whatcha got.”

There was a pop and it was everything I had not to jump back. Rulloff appeared an inch away from my face with fists raised and a fire in his eyes that would’ve terrified me if I hadn’t had an angry shoe factory worker come at me with a severed arm.

“How dare you, you addled-minded wagtail!” he shouted at me with breath that could drop a rhino.

“Well, hello there, Mr. Rulloff.” I waved my hand in front of my nose. “Do you mind? That is a smell and a half and I know smell. Ever smell the rotting body of a boy who was eaten by bears? Let me tell you, it’s not good, but you are a close second.”

Rulloff was so surprised he stepped back and I got a good look. Unlike Todd, who you’d never suspect was a criminal unless you were in the know, Rulloff couldn’t have made it more obvious. Malice and spite emanated off him. He was, as the boys described, a middle-aged man in a frock coat with greasy hair and a neck beard. He sported the dirty fingernails the boys described and they did have a tinge of red to them.

Jess joined me in front of him and said, “I’m not sure. Do you think he is what he’s supposed to be?”

“Maybe,” I said.

“To what do you refer, you hedge-creepers,” said Rulloff with an odd accent. Was it supposed to be French or German?

“If you want to insult us,” I said. “You’ll have to do better.”

He eyed me. “You have the look of common prostitutes.”

“That’s better,” said Jess.

Rulloff turned to the boys. “Why did you bring these common⁠—”

“Don’t do it, man,” said Max. “That’s our mom and Jess is like a mom so don’t do it.”

“Or what?”

“Do you know what the internet is?”

“Of course, I am a man of limitless intellect,” said Rulloff.

“We’ll put on the internet that you were fake and a dimwit that only got hanged because you were too stupid to hire a good lawyer.”

“I was my own lawyer.”

“You’re proving it for me,” said Max. “Do you want us to look at your brain or not?”

“You’ve already looked,” said Rulloff.

“No, we didn’t,” said Henri. “We were too busy trying to get the burritos we were promised.”

I held up the bag. “We held them hostage.”

“Why?” Rulloff steepled his fingers.

Flattery. You can do it.

“We wanted to meet you and the boys said you wouldn’t appear to women,” I said. “We heard what an interesting specimen you are. Since you didn’t come when they called, I had to think of another way. I’m sorry for insulting you. I do apologize.”

The ghost gave me a grim smile, showing off yellowed teeth. “I have lived many lives and speak several languages. Do you speak French?”

Jess knew a little, but we both said no. Rulloff began speaking in something. I don’t know what it was, but French? No.

“Very impressive,” said Jess. “Have you written books?”

“I have indeed. The library in this building has them, but since my intellect is so renowned, they must be kept from the minuscule minds that inhabit this so-called university.” Rulloff began pacing. “No one has properly appreciated me.”

“Mark Twain wrote about you,” I said.

“That nincompoop? My poetry was better than his. He was jealous.”

“I’m sure that was it.”

Rulloff swept over to the display case and held out his arm. “Come, boys. View my brain and tell me of its magnificence.”

I gave them a shake of my head and the boys said they weren’t ready to view it close up because of all the magnificence and such.

“I do understand.” Rulloff eyed us and then spoke in something that might’ve been partially German. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forget my manners and speak in my many other languages. They are so natural to me.”

“Yeah,” said Jess. “That can happen.”

“My boys would love to see your brain and get a real good look at its magnificence, but they need something before they do.”

Rulloff lowered his chin and glared at the boys from under his shaggy brows, giving them another chill. “What do they need? To hear about the women? When I was young, I wanted nothing more than to…hear about women and their frailties and stupidity. How they do cry out. The secret to shutting them up when you are⁠—”

“That’s not it,” I said. “They are concerned with one woman in particular.”

The murderer rubbed his hands together with glee. “Yes. What would you like to do to her?”

“We just want information, dude,” said Max. “What is your deal?”

Rulloff straightened up. “My deal is that I am a genius, as discovered by dozens of physicians. Do you know how thick my skull was?”

“Pretty thick,” whispered Henri.

“What was that, boy?”

“I said it was probably the…thickest one ever or something like that.”

“Quite correct. Wilder was impressed. It took a lot out of him when he sawed open my skull. It was exceptionally thick.”

“Ew,” said the boys.

Rulloff gestured to the case again. “And now you will see my brain.”

“And now you will tell us where you were on spring break 1982,” I said.

He spread his arms wide and bowed. “I was here. I am always here.”

“When you say here,” said Jess, “do you mean here in this hall? Not outside?”

“I mean here as in around this area and the area they call the Welcome Center. Many young women go there. I enjoy…watching them and I find the atmosphere to my liking. The tower is an excellent area and the chimes are pleasant. I would have played them better than anyone if I had the chance,” said Rulloff with a grimace. “There are others who do not wish to engage with my eminence so I do not go up into the tower or to the classrooms. I cannot coddle them and bring myself down to their level. It is a difficult burden to be so far above the common dead. Even in this display case, I have no equal.”

“I feel for you,” said Jess. “It must be hard.”

“You are an unusually interesting woman. I would like to feel you.”

“I’m good.”

He gave her a grin that turned my stomach.

“I know you are,” he said.

Jess clenched her fists. “If you try to⁠—”

“Getting back to your excellent memory,” I interrupted. “You do have an excellent memory, don’t you? I mean, with the size of that brain, you have to.”

“My memory is beyond compare. How shall I prove it to you?”

I gave him the exact dates when we thought Ginny was murdered. “Did you see anyone either of those nights go onto the bridge?”

He raised his brows. “I may have.”

“Who did you see?”

Rulloff looked at Max. “Come here, boy.”

I put my hand up. “He’ll look at your brain but tell us first.”

“Why is this important?”

“We’re solving a murder,” said Jess.

“Ooh, a murder. One murder?”

“Yes. Nothing like your accomplishments.”

Rulloff flexed his fingers and then steepled them. “I’m glad you see the obvious so I will tell you that I did see someone on the bridge on the first date you gave me.”

The four of us froze and I asked, “Was it a man or a woman?”

“A woman?” he scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. A woman couldn’t have carried that bag.”

The four of us froze. I was afraid to breathe in case I spooked the spook.

“Why do you look that way, woman?” Rulloff asked me with suspicion. “You don’t believe me? I am a man and you are a mere woman. How dare you⁠—”

“We’re giving you our undivided attention,” I said. “You deserve no less.”

“Ah, yes. You were raised to respect your superiors. I like that.”

Henri made a choking noise and Max elbowed him.

“Will you please tell us exactly what you saw?” Jess asked, putting an expression of pure adoration on her face.

Rulloff nodded and a rough wooden chair appeared behind him. He sat down, crossed his legs and lit a pipe as some people came out a door at the other end of the hall and headed toward us. We made like we were fascinated by one of the brains and the group walked through Rulloff to head for the stairs.

“Insufferable ingrates,” he said. “I put a distinction on this place and they don’t even have the curtesy to see me.”

“Not everyone is lucky enough to see ghosts,” said Henri.

“Yeah,” said Max. “Their loss.”

“Ah, yes. That is correct. They haven’t the ability to confer with the greatest mind here. A terrible shame for them,” said Rulloff.

“Terrible indeed,” I said. “You were saying about that night?”

Rulloff hemmed and hawed. He knew how to draw out a moment but he eventually got on with telling us that he was strolling around campus and reciting his poetry as he often did to edify the institution. He seemed to think the university itself, the buildings, sidewalks, and what have you, benefited from his voice.

At ten o’clock, Rulloff happened to be on the bridge reciting what could only be described as a hate haiku. He knew the time exactly because the chimes had just rung the way he liked them to when he stepped onto the bridge. It was personal between him and the chimes. They rang just for him.

None of us knew what to say to that so we just nodded and he continued, quoting himself and then saying that he got excited as he was crossing the bridge. He thought someone was approaching to hear him but it was just a man dragging a large bag onto the bridge. From his description, it sounded like a large soft-sided suitcase with a red and black plaid pattern.

“He was dragging it on the ground?” I asked.

“No, he had this odd board thing with wheels under it. I’ve seen them around. People ride them,” sniffed Rulloff. “Most undignified.”

“A skateboard?” Max asked.

Rulloff shrugged.

“What did he look like?” Jess asked.

The murderer described Todd West in excellent detail. He told us how Todd didn’t see or appreciate his poetry. He just dragged the suitcase onto the bridge and passed right through Rulloff, which irked him. Since he didn’t have an audience, he kept on walking and reciting, leaving Todd and the suitcase behind him.

“Did you see him open it?” I asked.

“I am a busy man. I don’t have time to waste on oddballs who can’t see me,” said Rulloff.

“You didn’t think it was weird that some guy was dragging around a suitcase at ten o’clock on a Friday night?” Henri asked.

Rulloff stood up. “Are you saying that I lack comprehension?”

“I’m just asking.”

“Children should be seen and not heard!”

“You wanted us to look at your stupid brain!” yelled Max.

Rulloff vibrated with rage. I grabbed Max and Jess grabbed Henri. We backed away toward the stairs.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Rulloff bellowed and he changed. A noose appeared around his neck and his head jerked to the side with a crack. He came at us and we spun around to run, but he appeared in front of us, screaming with his eyes bulging out of their sockets. I would’ve gone right through him, but the boys jerked back and stumbled away, tripping over their own feet. Then Rulloff was on the other side of us, his face purple and the smell of decay filling the hall.

Max and Henry panicked and ran into the wall.

“Leo!” I screamed and our ghost popped in. He appeared between us and Rulloff in his mortician’s suit with his hands in fists. The smell of his cologne flooded the hall, mixing with the decomposition and making it so much worse.

“Why are you yelling at my family?” Leo didn’t yell, but he said it in a voice that sent a chill down my spine.

“Who are you?” Rulloff screamed.

“Why are you yelling at my family?”

“How dare you speak to me, you insufferable ingrate!”

Leo snapped his fingers and the murderer popped into a bloody mess. He was about fifteen years old, dressed in rags, and beaten to a pulp. He screamed in pain and fell to the floor.

“Answer me,” Leo said.

Rulloff’s young face looked up in complete confusion and I had a twinge of compassion. “How did you…”

“Answer me.”

He held out a shaky hand and pointed at us. “Those trollops and their guttersnipes insulted me.”

Leo turned around to us. “Please go while I explain the rules to this creature.”

“What rules?” Max asked.

“My rules.”

“Good enough for me,” I said, steering Max to the stairwell.

“What’s he going to do?” Henri asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Jess.

“I want to see.”

“No, you don’t.”

We got them through the door and heard Leo say, “Do we attack seers?”

“I’ll attack who—” A scream cut off his words.

“Dude,” said Max. “What’s going on?”

“We’ll tell you when we get outside,” said Jess.

A minute later, we were sucking in the crisp air and getting pelted with questions by the boys. We quickly explained that Leo could put other ghosts into their worst moments. He’d done it to Vic Delaney by putting him back into WW1, injured and suffering.

“How does he do it?” Henri asked.

“We don’t know and neither does he,” I said.

“Is he the only one that can do it?” Max asked.

“We hope so,” said Jess.

They wanted all the gory details, but I didn’t want to think about it, not when we had good news.

“Enough of that. He just told us that Todd West did it. That’s huge,” I said.

“Oh, yeah,” said Max. “I forgot with the whole noose thing.”

Henri made a face. “So Ginny Cushing was in the suitcase?”

“She must’ve been,” said Jess. “I wondered how he got her to the bridge without anyone seeing. You can’t exactly carry a woman around for any kind of distance and have no one notice.”

“He did get her out of the suitcase without a problem,” said Max. “That couldn’t have been easy or quick.”

“The campus was empty and Todd is nothing if not lucky,” I said. “He must’ve tossed her over at the perfect time.”

“They didn’t find a suitcase, did they?” Henri asked.

“He probably didn’t toss it,” said Jess. “Do you want to come with us to tell Dr. Miniver?”

Max and Henri conferred for a moment and then said they had to get back to their project. They still wouldn’t tell us what it was and hurried off with their burritos, chatting intensely. I caught something about the engineering quadrangle but that was it.

“Law school?” Jess asked.

“We could try calling him again,” I said.

“He can’t hear us.”

“I wish I knew why Leo and the trappers can. I think we could call Vic and he’d show up.”

“For goodness’ sake, don’t do that,” said Jess. “He’ll tell us we’re doing it all wrong.”

“We solved it,” I said.

“But not the way he would’ve.”

I did try calling Dr. Miniver again and he didn’t appear, but Leo did. He made sure we were okay and then popped off home to continue his lunch with Eric. They were having an interesting discussion about expanding Eric’s insurance business. Leo was very excited by the possibilities, but he said he would check on Todd West’s situation as soon as he could.

He popped out and we walked over to the law school. I was ready to text Ava for help to get in, but a couple of students came out. They recognized us from the many videos and held the door.

Standing in the entrance hall, we took in the change in atmosphere. The weekend was so peaceful, but Monday wasn’t. Students filled the halls, carrying hefty backpacks and avoiding the occasional professor like they might yell an unanswerable question and discover they didn’t do the reading. One young man rushed by us with red eyes that were panicked.

“I think he might’ve been crying,” said Jess.

“It happens. You just hope you can hold it until after class.”

“I don’t think I want Mariah to go to law school.”

“Do you get to choose?”

She made a face and asked, “Moot court? I don’t see him teaching in a room with live students there.”

“Me either. Let’s try the courtroom first.”

Moot court wasn’t empty. Live students were discussing court procedure, so we did it the hard way by wandering around and looking in every room. We finally found him in the same classroom where the boys and I interrupted his lecture on Friday. I don’t know why I didn’t think to look there first. It was an obvious choice.

Jess and I walked in to find the same students sitting in their seats, attentive and taking notes. Dr. Miniver was at the board, writing more on settlement structures and an opioid MDL. There was hardly room to fit anything else, but his chalk was scratching out a case name.

The students heard the door and turned to look. We waved and they waved back.

“Dr. Miniver,” said one. “She’s back.”

The professor turned and looked almost fearful, but we smiled in return.

“We’ll take a ten-minute break,” he said.

None of the ghosts moved.

“Please excuse us. I need to have a conference with these ladies.”

After a rapid series of pops, we were alone with Dr. Miniver. We walked down to the front of the classroom to the lectern and watched his face change emotions a dozen times before he asked, “Good news?”

“We have a witness,” I said.

The professor stepped back like he’d taken a blow to the chest.

“Sit down,” said Jess. “You want to hear this.”

His office chair appeared and he sat down. “Tell me.”

We explained about Edward Rulloff and told him what he’d seen. Tears filled Dr. Miniver’s eyes.

“He put her in a suitcase and wheeled her around campus like she was nothing,” he said.

“Yes,” I said. “But it’s proof that he was in Ithaca and at the bridge.”

“Good news,” he whispered.

“We have a description of the suitcase,” said Jess. “We might be able to find a witness that puts it in Todd’s apartment before the murder and then it being missing after.”

“It’s not nearly enough to get him arrested,” said Dr. Miniver.

“No,” I said, “but it is the truth. And Todd is with the IRS. Who knows what they’ll uncover when they start digging. We’re sure he’s got sketchy stuff going on. If they get a search warrant, they could find evidence in his house.”

Dr. Miniver looked up at us and a sad smile graced his face. “You’re right. It could happen.”

“I know you were hoping for more,” said Jess.

“I was hoping for a miracle and one happened,” he said. “You came and you saw me. I wasn’t wrong. Todd did kill her. Even if he doesn’t pay for it. At least I know.”

“If Ginny has family, we can tell them,” I said. “Families can move mountains.”

“That’s what family is for,” said Dr. Miniver and he leaned back in his chair. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You can come visit us in St. Seb,” said Jess.

“Thank you for the invitation. I can’t lie. I was hoping to move on, but since I haven’t and apparently won’t, I’d be honored to visit your home and to call you friends.”

We talked for a couple more minutes and then students started popping back in. Jess and I said goodbye and turned to go.

“I forgot to ask,” called out Dr. Miniver. “How come I’ve never seen Rulloff? I’ve spent a lot of time at the tower and at the bridge.”

“I don’t think he wants to be seen by Cornellians,” said Jess.

“Why?”

“How better to maintain your intellectual superiority than never to test it,” I said.

Dr. Miniver laughed and the students asked who Edward Rulloff was. As we went out the door, the professor was saying they should take a break from the opioid crisis and talk about the local so-called serial killer.

“Do you think they’ll go looking for Rulloff?” I asked.

“I hope so,” said Jess with a grin. “It’ll drive him crazy.”

Chapter Twenty

The conference room at the hotel was buzzing. Max and Henri had called the podcasting crew and told them we’d solved the case. Ava was there with even more law students trying to figure out a strategy to get Todd charged with murder. Josh, with some dads and kids, was working at a bank of laptops, talking about sound levels. Mark sat in a corner, arguing about whether it made sense to serve male or female scallops. Whoever was on the other end of the line was passionate about the female color and said so loudly. Mark held the phone away from his ear and shook his head at us, mouthing “Calgon, take me away.”

We laughed and went to the table where Jordyn, Mariah, and the other girls were working on a script, entitled Ginny Cushing: What really happened that night?

“Looks like you have a plan,” said Jess.

“We do,” said Olivia. “I just wish we could get Donna D’Angelo to stop posting.”

“She’s at it again?” I asked. “I was hoping she’d get arrested.”

“They did arrest her, but she’s out already,” said Isabelle. “She’s the Teflon Don.”

“I can’t believe you know that reference,” said Jess.

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

Mariah showed us Donna’s latest crackpot theories and she was increasingly unhinged after the arrest. She blamed everyone at some point, except herself, of course. I totally expected aliens to be on her top ten list, but they weren’t yet. She was only on number five to be fair. I was number one. I pulled the alarm and blamed her. Jess was number two. Then no one pulled the alarm and we staged the whole evacuation to make her look bad and so on.

Jordyn said nothing. She looked down at the script and chewed on her lip.

“What’s wrong?” Jess asked.

“We have no proof that Todd did it,” she said. “We can’t get him.”

“It’s not over,” I said and gave her the suitcase theory.

Isabelle and Olivia were all about the suitcase and wanted an episode on the suitcase alone.

“Maybe he kept it,” said Olivia.

“Come on,” said Mariah. “What kind of freak would keep his murder suitcase?”

“It could be like a trophy,” said Isabelle.

Mariah shook her head. “It could have blood in it.”

“Perfect.”

“Perfectly crazy to keep it,” said Mariah.

“But he might’ve kept something,” said Jordyn. “Trophies are a thing for serial killers.”

“I don’t think Todd is a serial killer,” I said.

“He could be. Who knows where all his ex-girlfriends are. Maybe one figured it out. Maybe he keeps a diary or pictures. The cops have solved cases that way. If he has his clothes or her clothes and they have blood on them.”

Jess nodded. “All good stuff.”

“You never know what the IRS will find,” I said. “He could be accessing a missing person’s bank accounts.”

Jordyn clenched her fists. “This would be the greatest podcast ever if we just had proof.”

“It’s already pretty great,” said Mariah. “You went from zero to monetized in record time.”

“We really need to wreck Donna the Mistress of Death though,” said Olivia. “My mom’s freaking out. She thinks she might try to set fire to the hotel.”

“My mom thinks she’ll show up at our house and do something,” said Isabelle.

“Jordyn, how’s your dad doing?” I asked.

“Not great. He’s coming tomorrow and bringing her. I think they want to take me out of school,” said Jordyn flushing. “I’m not leaving. I don’t care what they say.”

“What time do they get here?” Jess asked.

“Ten. Will you talk to them? Mark and Susan said they will, but you’re the big guns,” said Jordyn. “You have to show them you’re not crazy and Dr. Miniver is real.”

“I don’t know if we can do that,” I said, “but we will do our best.”

“If we could solve it,” said Mariah, “they’d have to back off.”

“They talked to my adviser,” said Jordyn.

“Is that bad?” Jess asked.

“She told my dad how I am.”

“Sad?” I asked.

“She said I’m severely depressed and not doing well in any classes,” said Jordyn. “It’s true. I’m on meds but they don’t help.”

“But this did,” said Mariah.

“You’re all leaving.”

“No, we’re not,” said Isabelle. “What do you think FaceTime and Workday are for? We’re staying on the podcast.”

Leo popped in as Kelly and Molly arrived. They said they were staying, both in Ithaca and on the podcast. Everyone agreed that it was too fun and successful to let go. More importantly, they said they’d tell Jordyn’s dad. She could turn everything around. She already had, in my view.

“Bad time?” Leo asked, looking around at the tense kids.

“Sad time,” I said. “Jordyn’s dad is coming.”

“I know. I visited him.”

“Really?”

Leo had gone to Jordyn’s father to see how he was doing with his grief and he discovered that grief was nonexistent. Ross Hicks decided moving on was the remedy for his wife’s untimely death. You couldn’t feel grief if you didn’t acknowledge it, so he didn’t. His new wife, Cindy, was much more in touch with what happened, but Jordyn wouldn’t let her get near her.

“I take it they can’t see you,” said Jess.

“No, but I have some good news,” said Leo, “and I think it will help Jordyn.”

“Yes, please,” I said.

“I checked in on Todd and before you ask, he didn’t confess.”

“But…”

Leo chuckled. Todd West was a strange combo of savvy and stupid. Once he got the drift that the IRS was going to, at the very least, audit him, he decided to make a trade. He knew people who were committing crimes, real crimes in his estimation, and Todd offered them up.

“Can you get out of an audit like that?” Jess asked.

“No, you can’t,” said Leo, still chuckling. “But you can get the cops involved and asking about how you know those criminals. The Ithaca cops have him in an interview room right now. The IRS is letting them take the lead for the moment since he buried them in information.”

“Has he been arrested?” I asked.

“Not yet and he’s a cool customer. They have him on video doing yoga in the interview room after they stepped out. Britney’s being interviewed now. She should ask for a lawyer, but I don’t think she will.”

“Why haven’t they arrested him?” Jess asked.

“Procedure. They want to get more out of him before he calls a lawyer. He doesn’t seem in any hurry to leave.”

“Todd hasn’t got a lawyer?” I asked. “What in the world?”

“I know,” said Leo. “The cops’ opinion is that he thinks it will make him look worse if he calls one, but the IRS thinks he has something big that he’s holding back.”

“It can’t be killing Ginny,” said Jess. “That won’t help him.”

“Britney was trying to get ahold of someone,” I said. “That could be his lawyer.”

“Oh, yeah. He said she’d have to go up there.”

“Where?” Leo asked.

“That’s all we heard,” I said. “I wonder if his lawyer hates him and won’t answer his calls.”

“He needs a new lawyer.” Leo looked us over. “You’ve had a long day. Why don’t you lie down for a nap? I’ve been popping in and out with the kids. They’ll be fine.”

I cocked my head and asked, “Including Max and Henri.”

Leo grinned at me. “Especially them.”

“What happened to Rulloff?” Jess asked.

“Don’t worry. If you see him, I think he’ll mind his manners a lot better.”

Leo popped out and everyone was looking at us. They were nervous and I understood. We were talking to no one. The atmosphere changed when we gave them the scoop on Todd. Jordyn was high-fiving everyone and smiling. So were Mariah and Jess.

“If you don’t need us for a while,” said Jess, “I think we’ve earned a dip in the hot tub.”

Mariah shook her head. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because the trappers are here. They came to say that no one saw Todd at Ginny’s that night.”

“That’s a bummer,” I said. “I wish we had some ghosts on his street.”

“That’s a thought,” said Isabelle.

“So why can’t we go to the hot tub?” Jess asked.

Apparently, the trappers had been having a fine time stinking up the joint until Susan said she was going to the pool for a swim. The trappers loved nothing more than a woman in a swimming suit so they followed.

“Does she know?” Jess asked.

“I told her, but she didn’t care,” said Mariah. “She said it’d been a long time since she’d been ogled and it wouldn’t do her any harm.”

“If she could see them, it would be different,” I said. “Pass on the hot tub.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening working on the podcast before ordering barbecue for dinner. Max and Henri messaged that they were in an Uber on the way back. It was a good call to put some pulled pork and fries aside for them. Mark took some of the kids with him to pick up dessert and the rest were working diligently through yawns. I took pictures for their parents. They wouldn’t believe us otherwise.

“Did you miss us?” Max and Henri walked in like they expected applause. They got it. They were them after all.

“Is it all done?” Mariah asked.

“Do you doubt us?” Henri spread his arms wide.

She rolled her eyes.

Max glanced around. “Food? Is there food?”

I fed them and they went over all the work that had been done, marveling at the number of completed interviews and episodes.

“Jordyn’s rocking it, but where’s she going?” Max asked.

Ava looked up from the legal team. “What are you talking about?”

“We saw her leaving,” said Henri.

Mariah turned to Isabelle. “Did she tell you she was leaving?”

“No.” Isabelle stood up. “Does anyone know where Jordyn went?”

Everyone shook their heads. A couple of the law students saw her walk out of the conference room, but they didn’t think anything of it. Mariah looked in the recording booth and came out with Jordyn’s backpack.

“She left this, but I think she took her purse,” said Mariah.

My heart started pounding and I looked at Jess. “You don’t think she’d do anything stupid, do you?”

“Oh my god,” said Jess balling up her fists.

Mariah ran over. “She’s not upset, Mom. She’s happy Todd’s at the police station and probably going to get arrested. She wouldn’t do anything to herself.”

“We don’t know that, honey. She’s upset about her dad coming. We can’t assume.”

“I can’t get her to answer,” said Max.

“Or me,” said Henri.

“Or me,” said Isabelle.

Ava stood up and pointed at the script table. “Is that her computer?”

Isabelle dashed over and opened it. “It’s open to Maps. Who lives on Shore Drive?”

“Todd.” I bent over. “Thank goodness.”

Susan walked in with the trappers trailing behind her.

“That there is a fine woman,” said Wheeler. “I wants her to see me.”

Susan frowned at us. “What’s going on? Who are you looking at?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Jordyn’s gone to Todd’s house to get evidence.”

She put a hand on her chest. “He’ll kill her.”

“He’s at the police station,” said Jess, grabbing her keys. “But she can’t break in and become a criminal herself. That won’t help with her dad.”

Ava sighed. “I doubt there’s anything in his house, but even if there was, a defense lawyer would ruin it, saying that Jordyn planted it for the podcast.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Isabelle.

“Isabelle, I will tell Mark,” said Susan.

“Mark’s crazy. He’s probably thought of it already.”

“We are not going to sink to Donna D’Angelo’s level. We need a witness.”

Ava nodded. “A live witness. Someone who saw Todd at Ginny’s or Ginny at Todd’s.”

“You needs a living one?” Boy asked.

“Yes, that would be ideal,” I said. “But you said no one saw anything.”

“That ain’t right. You asked if that pretty boy was there. He weren’t.”

Jess grabbed my arm. “Was someone else there?”

“You got a bikini?” Boy asked. “Susan got one and she looks good.”

“Focus,” I said. “Was someone at Ginny’s house the night she died?”

The trappers gathered together and I knew that meant we were about to be blackmailed.

“No!” I pointed at them. “You tell us. Right now. We have to go get Jordyn out of that house.”

“You ain’t no fun,” said Jedidiah.

“How about I read to you?” asked Mariah. “Anne of Green Gables. You liked the cover with the red-headed girl.”

Wheeler clapped his hands. “Alright. Now we’re cookin’.”

“Tell Mom and Libby,” said Mariah.

“Junior and his girl said there weren’t no man there that night,” said Boy. “There was a girl. You kin ask her.”

“What girl?” Jess asked, squeezing my arm tighter.

The trapper described what a guy called Junior had observed that Friday so long ago. He was taking his best girl, Peggy, out in his MG. They saw a fancy white car pull up in front of Ginny’s and park. A plump girl with a homely face got out and went to the door. They didn’t get a clear view of who let her in, but they both thought it was a girl. Then they left and went on their date. When they came back, the car was gone.

“Get Gary,” I said.

Wheeler popped out and almost instantly returned with a half-naked Gary, who was rubbing baby oil all over himself and looking confused.

“I was gonna lay out and get a tan,” he complained.

“It’s March and eight o’clock in the evening,” I said.

Gary started flexing and tried to spurt us with his baby oil. “Not where I’m going.”

“Did you see a white car at Ginny’s on that Friday night?”

“That guy wasn’t there,” he said.

“We know. Was a dumpy girl there? Brown hair. Was she driving a BMW?” Jess asked.

“Yeah. There was a Beemer there and she was nothing to look at.”

I held up my phone. “Is this her?”

“Whew! She got old,” said Gary.

“Mom?” Mariah asked. “Who is it?”

“Anne Fleming,” said Jess.

We raced through Ithaca, calling Jordyn and hoping she hadn’t broken into Todd’s house. The cops didn’t need that complication, but she didn’t answer.

“I’m so glad Britney’s with the cops,” said Jess.

“She wouldn’t do anything to Jordyn.”

“I certainly hope not.” I made a sharp right, squealing my tires as I drove onto Shore Drive. “Now we know how Anne ended up with Todd West.”

“And why she never said anything,” said Jess.

“You think she caught him in the act and blackmailed him into marrying her? That’s pretty dark. She seemed so normal. Dr. Bledsoe likes her,” I said.

“Remember Dr. Miniver said there were all sorts of girls hanging around Todd, not just the hot ones? Maybe Anne was in love with him before Ginny died. She saw her chance and she took it.”

“That didn’t work out for her,” I said as I drove through Todd’s gate. Jordyn’s car was parked in front of the garage next to the white BMW. The Jag was missing.

“Thank goodness,” said Jess.

“Not so fast. Look.” I pointed at the front door. It was wide open. We jumped out and ran across the lawn, yelling for Jordyn, but the house was empty.

“Look at this,” said Jess.

There was a red smear on the floor in the kitchen. I opened the trash can and found the trash bag gone. Jess held up an empty paper towel holder and a bottle of spray cleaner. It was the only thing left out in the kitchen. The rest was immaculate.

“Leo!” we screamed. “Leo.”

He popped in, wearing his glasses and his grandpa sweater. “What happened?”

“Are Todd and Britney still with the cops?”

“Yes. Why?”

I held up my phone. “Anne Fleming. This is her address. Please find her.”

“Why?”

“Jordyn’s car is here and she’s not. That looks like blood and I think Anne might’ve killed Ginny.”

Leo didn’t say anything. He popped out.

“Where would she take her?” Jess asked.

I took off running through the house. “The bridge.”

Jess chased after me. “That’s crazy.”

I jumped in the car. “Why? It worked before and Donna blasted Jordyn’s mental state all over her podcast.”

We peeled out of Todd’s driveway and almost collided with a terrified Britney in the Jag. I swerved around her and hit the gas, speeding into Ithaca as Leo popped into the backseat.

“She wasn’t home,” he said. “Where are we going?”

“The bridge,” I said.

“I’ll check it,” said Leo and he was gone.

Jess had her phone and she was calling 911 with shaking hands. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to say.”

“Nine one one. What is your emergency?” asked the operator.

“A girl has been kidnapped. We need campus security to go to to to…”

“Beebe Dam Bridge,” I said, swerving onto campus.

The operator asked more questions and Jess answered her. I don’t know what the questions were. I was driving and gripping the wheel so hard my hands hurt.

Leo popped into the back, panting. “She’s there and she’s pulling a big suitcase.”

“Stop her!” I cried.

“What was that?” the operator asked.

“Nothing,” said Jess.

“I can’t stop her,” said Leo. “She doesn’t see me and she’s ignoring everything I throw at her.”

“Try again!”

He popped out and I drove onto a sidewalk to avoid a car, making a beeline for the Welcome Center. There was no one around. No one to see history repeating itself. I drove down to the bridge so fast I skidded and nearly ran into the low concrete wall at the start of the bridge.

“There she is!” Jess yelled.

We jumped out and ran down the path. Anne Fleming, wearing a snazzy pink pantsuit that she probably picked out in Paris, was hauling a limp Jordyn out of a large suitcase the size of a bookcase. A swarm of bees buzzed and flowed around them almost like water. And I don’t mean a few bees. We’re talking thousands of bees swarming around the Beebe Dam Bridge. The sight took my breath away and fear gripped me. Jess and I skidded to a halt.

Anne didn’t see the bees. She couldn’t possibly. No one could and not react. Leo appeared next to her, waving his arms. Leaves and sticks came through the air and pummeled Anne. She felt that, but she didn’t falter. She lifted Jordyn up and slammed her against the metal fencing along the bridge. Anne was tall, but the railing was as high as her chest. It wasn’t like she couldn’t get the girl over, but it wouldn’t be easy.

Jess ran right at those bees and I was behind her. I’d like to say I could’ve done it without her, but I can’t. That was a lot of bees.

Jess flew at Anne, knocking her sideways. I swerved and rammed Anne, taking her down and banging my knee hard enough to make me scream as Jordyn fell onto the concrete like a rag doll, letting out a weak groan with blood all over her face.

We were all tangled up with Anne kicking and punching indiscriminately. Jess smacked Anne across the face and dove for her phone that had fallen and slid across the walkway. The operator was yelling something. Anne went for Jess and I lunged, wrapping my arms around her legs. She fell again and then kicked me in the head. The blow dazed me and she slipped out of my grasp.

“She’s running!” Jess yelled.

I sat up and saw Anne dashing toward the main campus, but a couple of guys came running onto the bridge, yelling for her to stop. Anne spun around and ran back at us. Jess blocked her way and Anne shoved her with everything she had, plowing my best friend into the railing. Thank goodness it was so high. She would’ve gone over otherwise. I jumped up and limped toward her.

“Jess!”

Dazed and wincing, Jess yelled, “Get her!”

My knee hurt so bad. I couldn’t do it so I looked for Leo. I needed him, but our ghost lay collapsed in his easy chair with his eyes closed.

It’s all me.

I turned to see Anne running off the bridge. I yelled, “Call 911!” at the guys and went after her. I was hurt, but I was younger. How hard could it be? Once again, you should never ask that question because it was incredibly hard. Fear propelled Anne and it was her superpower.

I chased her past our car and the Welcome Center to an Escalade parked haphazardly in the lot next door. She grabbed the door handle and began yanking on it before the door unlocked. She screamed in frustration and patted her pockets. I was almost there. She had her key. The door beeped. She whipped it open and jumped in a second before I got to her. Anne Fleming, the classy CEO, flipped me off.

Oh heck no.

I limped as fast as I could back to our car as she fired up her engine. I jumped in, hearing her tires squeal. I peeled out and drove onto the road, hoping to block her most obvious route of escape. That was to my right, a main road that would take her off campus quickly, but Anne was crazy and she went left. I hit the gas and followed, assuming she’d take a right on Thurston, the other fastest way to get out, but she took a hard left to speed over the bridge to the main campus.

“You really are nuts.” I gripped the wheel and put on the kind of speed I told the boys never to use.

Luck was with me. A car crossed in front of Anne. She slammed on the brakes and I gained valuable seconds, but she peeled out again onto East Avenue, putting on considerable speed since it was a straightaway. She was crazy. East ended in a T, a sharp T. She couldn’t turn that top-heavy SUV on a dime. My little sedan was another story and I smiled as we passed the Statler Hotel with people pointing and pulling out their phones.

The T was up ahead with a large modern building marking it clearly.

“What’s the plan, Anne?” I asked through gritted teeth.

Anne had a plan and it was a good one. She drove up onto the sidewalk then onto the lawn, missing trees by inches, but making a graceful turn while keeping most of her speed. I followed, but I wasn’t happy about it.

We drove down Campus Road. This time, I knew I was right. She’d continue on Campus and get to Stewart. She could get out on Stewart.

Anne increased her lead over me, heading straight, but she wasn’t looking far enough ahead. A Prius was turning from College Avenue onto Campus. They weren’t speeding, but Anne was. She yanked her wheel to the left and made a ridiculously hard left onto College, avoiding the Prius, mostly because it swerved and hit a pole. Then Anne lost control. There was a terrible screech. The Escalade went airborne, rolling over twice in spectacular form on the sidewalk between the trees to come to rest at the door to Taylor Hall. Glass and pieces of trim and metal spattered the trees and the engine belched smoke.

I screeched to a halt on the sidewalk and took a breath. I hoped she wasn’t dead. I didn’t want her to be dead. I didn’t have my seatbelt on so I doubted she did, but as I pulled out my phone, Anne Fleming popped out of her wrecked vehicle like a whack-a-mole. She was just that fast. I jumped out and she looked at me. Blood gushed from her nose and her pink pantsuit wasn’t so pink anymore.

“Anne, just⁠—”

I didn’t get the rest out. She was off again, running toward Collegetown with her own limp and I took off after her, trying to put as little weight as possible on my right leg. I know it was stupid. Where was she going to go? But when you start chasing someone, it’s hard to stop. I wanted to finish it and, to be honest, I wanted to win. Anne Fleming murdered Ginny, tried to murder Jordyn, and caused Dr. Miniver’s death. Plus, she was in her sixties. I couldn’t let her beat me. Max and Henri would never let me forget it.

“Anne, come on!” I yelled as I gained on her.

She glanced back, blood pouring from her nose. I thought she’d see the futility, but instead she turned right, running as fast as she could to the wall overlooking the grassy courtyard beside the law school.

“No!” I screamed.

She looked but she didn’t jump. It wouldn’t have killed her if that was what she was going for. It wasn’t that high. She stopped and turned around. I stopped, afraid of what she would do with the blare of sirens getting closer.

“Just listen⁠—”

And she was off again, hobbling along the wall to the steps with me right behind. She went for the tower and into the passage where the medieval-looking arches were. There was a stitch in my side. I could hardly breathe. She looked left and right. I was on the steps. I didn’t exactly bound up, but I was coming. Anne went left. I went after her, fast enough to see her go at a couple of students coming out of the law school. They screamed and she pummeled them.

“Don’t let her in!” I screamed.

They let her in, but I was right there. Anne had the door handle. She yanked it and I did the craziest thing I’ve ever done. I stuck my hand in the door. The heavy wood closed. I can still hear my own screaming when I close my eyes.

Anne let go and I pulled the door open to stumble inside. I’m pretty sure I was still screaming. The students definitely were. Anne had a fresh head start. She ran as fast as she could. I cradled my hand and followed. I knew the law school, but Anne appeared to know it better. She made deliberate turns and seemed to know exactly where she was going. We ended up at the front door but a bunch of students were coming in, blocking Anne’s exit.

“Stop her!” I yelled, but they didn’t. They stared at us, immobile.

Anne spun around and came at me. I tried to grab her with my good hand, but her sleeve was slick with blood and she got by me with her limp increasing.

She led me deeper into the school, but now I knew where we were. The closest exit was straight, but she didn’t go for that. She turned a corner and went through into a stairwell. I burst through the door seconds behind her. She left a trail of smeared blood on the dark metal railing, showing me that she went down. I followed and found myself in the law library stacks that weren’t very well lit and confusing with the endless rows of books stretching into what amounted to a beige cave filled with pipes covering the low ceiling and long florescent tubes that always had burnt out bulbs.

I didn’t know where Anne was until I heard panting. I guess she tried to hold it in and couldn’t. I ran down the main aisle and turned left. There she was trucking down a row toward a student with an astonished look on his face.

“Stop her!” I yelled. “She killed Ginny Cushing!”

He didn’t stop her. Anne shoved him out of the way and kept going.

“Oh, for crying out loud!” I yelled as I stumbled toward him. “How useless are you?”

“Hey!” the student complained.

“Hey, yourself!”

A woman yelled from somewhere in the stacks, asking where I was. I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know. Saying “I’m next to Carmody Wait 2d” would hardly be helpful. Who would know that?

Anne went for the other stairwell, but a student stepped into the frame. Anne turned and grabbed a book off a shelf. She winged it at me and I flipping caught it. Years of softball finally paid off.

Anne stared at me and the student asked, “What the hell?”

I held up the book. “Winners and Losers! You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“I hate you,” Anne hissed and I saw the face of a monster. A person who would stop at nothing to get what she wanted.

“And I’ve got you.”

“No.” Anne turned and stumbled down the aisle with me so close behind I could smell her blood and perfume. She turned and it was my turn not to corner well. I hit the stack so hard I thought it would go over but law books are heavy and I barely made it creak.

Anne looked back at me, smiled, and turned the corner.

A woman yelled, “Stop right there!”

There was the sound of a tussle and then a piercing scream. I followed the sound and found my favorite librarian, Mrs. Smythe, on the floor, clutching her hip. There were papers everywhere and a spray of castoff blood on the dumb waiter.

“I tried, Libby.”

“Oh, Jesus!” I went to her, but she fended me off.

“Give me the phone.” Mrs. Smythe pointed at the red emergency phone next to the dumb waiter. I grabbed it and handed her the receiver.

“Get her,” said the librarian.

“It’s over,” I said.

“Listen, Libby.”

I listened and there was the sound of scraping.

“Go!” yelled Mrs. Smythe.

When a librarian orders you to do something, you do it, and I did. I limped for that sound, barely able to breathe with the stitch in my side feeling like I’d swallowed acid, and found Anne Fleming heading for an exit, dragging a foot and clutching her right eye.

More stairs. Great.

Anne moved pretty well for a woman with multiple injuries and she got through the door three seconds ahead of me and she kept going. We ended up in a hall with an arched ceiling and a brown-tiled floor.

She was going for the stairs.

No stairs. I can’t do stairs.

I don’t know what made me do it. You can call it instinct. You can call it my soul knowing the right thing. I called out for help and the name that came out of my mouth wasn’t planned, but it came all the same. “Dr. Miniver!”

And the law professor appeared with an incredibly loud pop right in front of the stairs. Anne kept going. She didn’t see him.

“Her!” I gasped. “Ginny! Her!”

Dr. Miniver yelled, “You killed Ginny! You killed me!”

Nothing. Anne was going up those stairs. Nothing could stop her until something did. Everything started shaking, the walls and the glass in the windows. The lights flipped on and off. The doors opened and then slammed shut again and again.

Anne screamed but she kept going until she got to where there was another hall coming off the main one. I thought she’d turn, but she didn’t get the chance. The Exit sign above her exploded. She screamed and the bench that sat against the wall zipped over and rammed her.

Anne flew out of sight and I staggered down the hall to find her lying on the floor, screaming with her hands over her ears.

“I give up,” she screamed. “I give up!”

Dr. Miniver appeared beside her, his face astonished, and everything stopped as suddenly as it began.

“What happened?” he asked me.

I smiled. “Another miracle.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Dr. Miniver stayed with me. He didn’t have to. I was fine, but it took a while for someone to find us. Anne had left a path of destruction behind her and the cops had to respond to the Beebe Dam Bridge, the Taylor Hall accident, and several spots inside the law school. Lots of students called 911, but we were everywhere in the building and it was hard to find our final location.

Mrs. Smythe fared better because she stayed next to the emergency line. By the time the campus security got to us, she was already on a gurney with an IV line running. Anne broke her hip and Dr. Miniver was distraught. Mrs. Smythe wasn’t.

She held my hand as I walked beside her gurney. The tiny librarian was smiling.

“It’s rare that a librarian gets to be an action hero,” she said.

Dr. Miniver walked on the other side of her gurney. “Tell her I’m so sorry about her hip.”

“Dr. Miniver is sorry about your hip,” I said.

“Oh, silly. It’s not anyone’s fault but hers.” We stopped at the ambulance and she lowered her voice. “And mine. I could’ve stepped aside, but no one throws books in my library.”

“You really slowed her down. What did you do exactly?”

“I hit her with my clipboard,” she said. “My husband made it. Solid maple. I always thought it was too heavy, but it turns out it’s just the right weight to smack a murderer in the face.”

“What happened to her leg?”

Mrs. Smythe met my eyes with a smug smile. “I saw she was limping so after she shoved me and I fell, I punched her knee.”

“You are my hero, Mrs. Smythe,” I said.

“I like to think I always was. Why do you think Derek never got into serious trouble?”

“I should’ve known, and you handled Josephine for Max and Henri too. Total hero.”

She smiled. “I also paved the way for their plan.”

“Paved the way for what plan?”

The EMTs told me to back away and they put her gurney in the back of the ambulance.

Mrs. Smythe waved to me. “You’ll find out tomorrow!”

I waved and they shut the doors.

Anne Fleming came out next on a gurney, howling about her knee and face. She was attacked. She would sue. What was this world coming to when little old ladies get attacked in the library for no reason? It was a first-class tragedy to hear her, but the expressions on the EMTs faces said she’d be fine. They’d just have to endure her for a little while.

The cops asked me to get in with Anne, but I’d rather have eaten dirt so they broke protocol and took me themselves. There weren’t any ambulances left. Jess and Jordyn had one and the people in the Prius had another.

Once I got to the hospital, it was a whirlwind of paperwork and tests. I didn’t have my phone since I left it in the car, but the kids found out anyway and the entire podcasting crew was already in the Emergency Room by the time my X-rays were done.

The staff had no intention of letting them through, but they got into the exam room area anyway. Mariah was halfway to hysterical. Max and Henri were peeved that they missed a car chase. Ava, Josh, Isabelle, and Olivia were setting up a command center at the nurses’ station to record witness statements and Mark was on the phone with Jordyn’s dad. Susan had a bakery on the phone and was ordering gift baskets for the staff so they wouldn’t get too mad. The law students were trying to figure out who they could sue and Jess was sitting on the other bed with a juice box and Hambone, who’d made a nest and was quite comfortable. Jess had a dislocated shoulder along with bumps and bruises. Nothing serious. The shoulder got fixed asap. Jordyn was in CT. She was awake, but she only remembered arriving at Todd’s house.

Leo stood next to Jess’ bed, wet and disheveled. He had leaves in his hair and circles under his eyes. “I let you down.”

“You couldn’t possibly do that,” said Dr. Miniver. “The way I heard it is that you delayed Anne at the bridge until Jess and Libby got there.”

Leo didn’t answer. He just dripped.

“Can we have a moment?” Jess asked and the kids all looked up.

“Mom, I’m not leaving,” said Mariah.

“I’m fine. Go check on Jordyn.”

Max and Henri crossed their arms.

“Not a chance,” said Max. “We’ll miss the good stuff.”

“There’s no good stuff,” I said.

“Don’t you want us to entertain you?” Henri asked. “How about an interview?”

“That’s entertainment for you.”

“We’re not leaving. Your hand is busted. You need us,” said Max.

“Yeah, what if you have to go to the bathroom?” asked Henri. “You can barely walk with that messed-up knee. We’ll help you.”

I nodded. “I totally want you to help me to get to the bathroom when I need to go, but right now, I want you to check on Mrs. Smythe. As I recall, she has a weakness for strawberry milkshakes. I think she might need one.”

“We can do that,” said Max. “What do you want? Chocolate?”

“Two chocolates,” I said. “And make mine a malt.”

Jess nodded. “Perfect.”

“Do you think we can use the proceeds from the podcast revenue? You solved the crime. Operating expenses?”

“Just use my Instacart,” I said.

The boys still weren’t convinced that they should leave and neither was Mariah.

“Scarlett Johammson get everyone out of here,” said Jess and Hambone rose up, gobbling.

“Alright. Alright,” said Henri. “Come on, Mariah. Let’s see if Jordyn can eat.”

The boys maneuvered the reluctant Mariah out of the room and closed the door.

“What’s up with the water, Leo?” I asked.

“St. Seb flooded right after Carol and I got married,” said Leo. “This is what happens when I fail. I didn’t get enough sandbags in place to save the riverfront bed-and-breakfast and I failed to stop Anne. Look at the two of you. I should’ve done better, but the bees take it out of me.”

“Do we look upset?” I asked.

“You don’t,” said Dr. Miniver. “I see where Max and Henri get their glass half full outlooks.”

“We got the job done,” said Jess. “It wasn’t perfect. Nothing is.”

“She didn’t see my bees. Everyone sees my bees,” said Leo.

“If it makes you feel better, I saw them and they were terrifying.”

“Thank you.” Leo popped into his mortician suit. “I’m sorry if I made it about me. It’s not about me. It’s about you, Jordyn, Mrs. Smythe, and those poor people in the Prius.”

“They’re okay,” I said. “Airbags are a good thing.”

“For me, it’s about Ginny,” said Jess.

“And you, Dr. Miniver,” I said with a smile at the professor.

There was a knock on the door, it opened a smidge, and the detective I’d spoken to briefly on the way to X-ray looked in. “I’d like to get a statement while it’s still fresh.”

“Come in,” said Jess and she lay back on the bed. “Where do we start? Today? Friday? October?”

“October?” the detective asked.

“Lots of things started last October,” I said with a wink for Leo.

He smiled, said he’d check on the kids, and popped out.

“I think we’ll start with today. I’m Detective Tom Emory.” He shook our hands and gave us his card.

“Are you related to Detective John Emory?” I asked. “The one on the Cushing case.”

“He was my father. How did you know my dad was on Ginny Cushing’s case?”

“Newspaper.”

“Of course.” He took out a notebook and said, “Can you start with why Jordyn Hicks went to Todd West’s house?”

We told him everything that we knew and then he asked us to start with Friday. Jess and I were as thorough as we could be without talking about Dr. Miniver and Edward Rulloff. Emory didn’t look like the kind of guy who would take that information well.

When we finished, Jess asked, “Did you arrest Anne?”

“We did. She’s being charged with assault, kidnapping, and attempted murder, for starters.”

“But not for Ginny Cushing’s murder?” I asked.

“Not yet, but she will be as soon as we finish up with our witness,” said Emory.

“Who’s your witness?”

The detective smiled for the first time. “Todd West.”

A cop had been driving Todd back to his house when calls about the Beebe Dam Bridge started coming in over the radio. A woman. A girl. A suitcase. Todd blurted out, “Holy crap. She’s at it again.”

The cop made a U-turn at Todd’s house and drove him straight back to the station with his girlfriend Britney in hot pursuit. They had to threaten to arrest her if she didn’t calm down. She didn’t and they did. Disorderly conduct.

One 911 caller said that a bloody woman in the law school had killed someone named Ginny Cushing. It had to be the useless student who wasn’t so useless. Because of that call, a patrol cop pulled the old file and started interrogating Todd. It was Todd’s finest hour. He got a lawyer and the DA down there quick and he made a deal, not for the IRS, that’s not a thing, but they agreed to a walk on Ginny if he told them everything.

Anne Fleming was one of the girls following him around campus. She would’ve qualified as a stalker, but it didn’t bother him so he never complained. Having women follow him was nothing new and Todd was well aware that Anne’s father was powerful in the world of criminal law. Anne tried to entice him with talk of a job, but he wasn’t interested. He had Ginny for that and the Cushings had the social standing he craved.

That fateful Friday, Todd was at his place. He was staying for the break. Ginny was coming over after she finished her edit on the bad note. Instead of Ginny coming to his place, he got a frantic call from Anne begging him to come to Ginny’s. He ran through the yards and went up the fire escape to see Ginny lying on the floor and Anne hysterical.

It was Anne that found out that Ginny wasn’t a New York Cushing. She couldn’t get Todd to dump Ginny, so she started making calls, trying to find some dirt. When she discovered the truth, Anne went straight to Ginny and demanded that she tell Todd who she really was. Anne claimed Ginny attacked her, but Todd didn’t believe that for a minute. Anne hit Ginny with a wine bottle on the back of her head and even he was smart enough to know she did it on purpose.

“Why didn’t he call the police?” Jess asked.

“He’s Todd West,” said Emory. “You must know he was dead last in his class and had no prospects.”

“He blackmailed her?”

“There was plenty of blackmail to go around.”

According to Todd, Anne begged for his help with disposing of the body. Todd believed Ginny was dead. Anne took her pulse and said so. Todd told his soon-to-be wife that he needed a job and she offered one as a first-year associate at her father’s firm. If he didn’t have that, he didn’t have anything so they cooked up the plan to put Ginny in her own suitcase to get her to the bridge.

Todd and Anne carried the suitcase down the fire escape together. Anne backed her car in and they put it in the trunk. Once at the bridge, Anne stayed in the car and Todd did the dirty work. He used Ginny’s roommate’s skateboard to move the suitcase onto the bridge. He said Ginny never made a sound and she wasn’t breathing as far as he could tell. Todd threw her over the railing without a problem and showed zero remorse about the fact that Ginny was actually alive. He didn’t know so he didn’t kill her. It was as simple as that for Todd West.

After the bridge, they drove to a dumpster and got rid of the suitcase. Todd went home to his parents and Anne went to hers.

Their plan worked. Ginny Cushing appeared to have committed suicide, but things didn’t happen for Todd quite the way Anne said they would. She told her father everything, but he knew the score on Todd and he didn’t want him at his firm so instead of a plum first-year associate position, Todd got the equivalent of a 1L internship. That didn’t sit right with Todd, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t rat out Anne without implicating himself and getting disbarred. His hopes of big money or any money at all would go down the tubes. Plus, Anne’s father was an excellent criminal lawyer. Anne’s defense was easy. Todd did it and Anne helped him get rid of the body. It certainly made more sense so Todd cooked up another plan. He gave Anne what she wanted all along. Him. She was pregnant within two months and her father was stuck. He couldn’t have an unwed pregnancy in 1982 and Anne wouldn’t consider other options so they got married.

“I wish my dad had lived to see this,” said Emory.

“Was he suspicious at the time?” I asked.

“He was, but his partner outranked him and ordered him to leave it alone.”

“Why would he do that?” Jess asked.

“Dad never got a straight answer, but he thought someone pulled some strings.”

“Anne’s father,” I said. “I wonder who he got to.”

“I plan to ask him that question first thing,” said Emory.

“He’s still alive?”

“Yes, he is, and still practicing, if you can believe it.”

I adjusted the pillow under my splinted hand and glanced at Dr. Miniver who was standing next to my bed like a statue. “Did your dad ever mention Dr. Morris Miniver?”

“God, yes,” said Emory. “He felt terrible about that. Dr. Miniver obviously knew something, but he died before he could say it. Then there were all the rumors about him and Ginny. None of it was true. He was completely innocent.”

“Do you believe Todd?” I asked.

“I do and it doesn’t hurt that Anne tried to kill Jordyn who also happened to be alive when she tried to toss her off that flipping bridge.”

Dr. Miniver finally spoke. “I need to hear him say it.”

Jess nodded and asked, “So we’re sure who killed Ginny Cushing?”

“Absolutely,” said Emory.

“Can you say it?” I asked.

“What?”

“Who killed her.”

The detective glanced between the two of us with a deepening frown.

“Please,” I said.

“Okay. Anne Fleming killed Ginny Cushing,” said Emory. “And she will pay for it. You have my word.”

Dr. Miniver began to glow, lit from within. Warmth and good feelings filled the room. I could smell old books and coffee.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” we said together.

The professor turned around and walked into the wall. The last thing I heard him say was, “Oh, my dear. There you are.”

The detective pointed at the wall. “Did you see… I think there was a man there.”

We smiled at him with happy tears.

“Do you smell that?” he asked. “Coffee and like a library.”

I nodded. “We smell it.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Am I going crazy? Tell me if he was there.”

Jess reached over and took his hand. “That was Dr. Morris Miniver.”

“Jesus.”

My doctor walked in with my chart, “Are you ready to...” He looked at us and asked, “Is everything okay in here?”

“Everything’s perfect,” I said. “Exactly how it always should have been.”

“And I’m not crazy,” said Emory.

“Good to hear,” said the doctor. “Do you need anything, Detective Emory? You look a little…”

“I could use a Valium.”

The doctor smiled. I don’t know if Detective Emory got his Valium because I got painkillers, ice packs, and a cast. I’d rather have had the Valium.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ginny Cushing’s family took the news of her murder with grief and gratitude. Her brother found out where we were staying and sent an enormous array of breakfast items from a local bakery. Jess got me out of bed at ten and we went down to find so much food the other guests were diving in and not making a dent. We had baskets of muffins, croissants, and little sticky Bundt cakes. Trays of quiche and breakfast sandwiches covered the sideboard where sad plastic wrapped bagels and sandwich bread usually took up space with ignored bananas and apples. Now we had bananas Foster French toast and sautéed apples.

I sat down at a table and Susan brought me a hazelnut cappuccino from the little coffee cart Mr. Cushing had hired to serve us. “It’s like Ginny was a New York Cushing after all.”

“What does her brother do?” I asked.

“Something at Google. He must be fancy,” she said. “Can I get you something?”

Max rushed over with a plate. “Too late. We did it.”

He set down a plate heaped with goodies and Henri set down a second one.

“How much do you think I can eat?” I asked crossing my arms.

“We’ll help you,” said Henri.

“That’s exactly what Josh said,” said Susan.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“In the conference room, posting an interview,” said Max, “and I think Jordyn wanted to talk about something with him.”

“While she’s in the hospital?” I asked. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. She should rest.”

“She’s got her phone and they’re releasing her today,” said Henri.

That surprised me. Jordyn had a concussion and six stitches from whatever Anne hit her with. When the toxicology came back, we found out why Jordyn had been out cold. Anne had chloroformed her. Detective Emory thought she’d probably done the same thing to Ginny in 1982, but her brother didn’t want her body exhumed unless it became absolutely necessary so the detective might never prove it one way or the other. Emory desperately wanted to exhume because that would prove that Anne went to Ginny’s place intending to kill her and it wasn’t a crime of passion after all. New York didn’t have the death penalty, but that would guarantee that Anne would be in prison for life.

We’d stayed at the hospital until we could meet the couple from the Prius when they were released. I thought I needed to apologize, but they were fine and excited to be part of the action. Josh got an interview before CNN showed up and that was fine with them.

Mrs. Smythe had to have surgery so she wouldn’t be released for some time, but Mr. Cushing filled her room with flowers and donuts. She was only sad not to be on campus when Max and Henri’s plan happened, but she still wouldn’t say what it was.

Jordyn’s dad and stepmother caught an earlier flight and got in at midnight. Jess and I talked them off the ledge about what happened to Jordyn with Leo’s help. Her stepmother was very nice and Cindy understood depression. She’d suffered from it since she was in college. As nice as she was, we had to get her out of the room so Jordyn and her dad could talk, really talk. Cindy gave us a ride back to the hotel and Jordyn texted Mariah that it went well. I caught sight of her text and Jordyn also said that Mariah should tell Jess. She didn’t say what about and Mariah was mum on the subject.

I started on a chocolate muffin and watched Mariah smiling and joking with Olivia and Isabelle. Maybe they would be freshmen at Cornell together. I found myself hoping they would, even though it wasn’t what Jess wanted. It wasn’t what I wanted either. But Mariah fit in with the Cornell group and I wasn’t fool enough to think that acceptance was easy to come by, at least not for normal people. Max and Henri fit in everywhere like Derek. It was a gift given to far too few.

Mark stood and held up a croissant like a torch. “It’s approved. Today Cornell will dedicate two lecture halls, one for Dr. Miniver and one for Ginny.”

Max and Henri started moonwalking all over the breakfast area getting stares from the guests that didn’t know them. Yet.

“And there’s final approval for the other thing,” said Mark, grinning at me and Jess.

Jess came over with a heaping plate of her own. “Is anyone going to tell us?”

No, was the resounding answer.

Susan got up to leave. “Try the mushroom quiche with Serrano ham and Manchego cheese. It’s crazy good.”

Before I could ask where that quiche was, Josh came running in. “Max! Henri! You have to hear this!”

“What?” Susan asked.

“A fan sent Jordyn a clip of that interview she did with the guy who painted himself green,” said Josh.

“That one is pure gold,” said Mark.

“For more than one reason.”

The boys shushed everyone and Josh played the clip. It was hard to make out the first time, but on the second I got it and so did everyone else. Jordyn’s interview had been going on during Donna the Mistress of Death’s litany of threats, including her racist comment about Ava and what she called Josh. It was all in the background. Josh had already sent it over to some engineering students and they were going to use the university equipment to clean it up so it would be easier to hear.

“We’ve got her,” said Mark and he began moonwalking with the best.

Within an hour, Josh had posted Donna’s rant. Susan and Mark had persuaded him to just let her words speak for themselves. So the post just said recorded on such-and-such date, judge for yourselves, and the internet judged. It was really good at that and Donna the Mistress of Death had a very bad day. Her site crashed from the flaming comments. Then her platform provider cut ties and she went down completely. Rival podcasters that Donna had hurt started posting their stories and it was a beautiful thing to not have anyone talking about us, Jordyn, St. Seb, or Cornell.

“It’s not enough to wipe out MurderIvy,” I said. “But it will go away eventually.”

The Eggs grinned at me.

“What are you up to?” I asked.

“We said we’d fix it,” said Max. “We’re gonna fix it.”

“When?”

“Now.”

I got a coffee to go and they put me in our rental that the cops had graciously brought back for us. Jess drove and I dozed for the few minutes it took to get to McGraw Tower.

“Not again,” I said.

“It’s good, Mom,” said Henri. “I swear.”

“You think everything is good.”

“Everything is,” said Max.

I held up my cast hand.

“Well, you did get into the law school that way.”

“Sunny-side-up, Libby,” said Jess.

“What about you, Mariah?” I asked. “Everything good.”

I looked back and she had Hambone on her lap, preening her tail feathers. “Not everything.”

“She’s your turk.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I know.”

Jess parked and we walked to the tower slowly to accommodate my severely bruised knee. There were no signs or announcements going on, but campus was suspiciously lively. It’s not like it was a ghost town normally, but there were lots of people milling around.

I wanted to ask, but I knew the answer wouldn’t be forthcoming so I let the boys lead me through the arched hobbit door where Josephine Blanchard, the school official, was standing at the tower entrance, tapping her foot.

“I knew you’d be here,” she said.

“Cool,” said Henri.

The security guards walked up and Max said, “Less cool.”

“You’re not allowed in the tower,” said one.

“We’d really like to say you are, but you aren’t,” said the other, looking like he wanted to lie down on the floor and snore.

“Unless,” said Josephine.

The boys’ smiles grew wider.

“Yeah?” Max asked.

“Unless you show me how you keep getting in,” she said.

“How bad do you want to know?” Henri asked.

She crossed her arms. “How badly do you want in?”

“Pretty bad, but you control if you find out,” said Max.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. Big time.”

The ghost in the blue leisure suit appeared at the door and Mariah said, “Of course. I should’ve known.”

“Good morning,” he said with a smile. “It’s so nice to be seen by talented troublemakers. These boys have given me a thrill I haven’t had since I don’t know when.”

“They excel at trouble,” said Mariah.

“Good trouble,” said the ghost.

“It’s very nice to see you,” I said, “but will you let her see you?”

“I’m letting her right now, but she’s not in the mood,” he said.

Josephine looked at us with growing suspicion. She probably thought we were making fun of her.

“Will you play along?” Jess asked.

“With what?” Josephine asked.

“A little game of believing in the unbelievable.”

She grimaced and then said, “Just show me.”

The guard on her right nudged her. “Come on. Be a good sport. They did solve the Cushing murder and destroyed that evil podcaster.”

Josephine took a breath. “Fine.”

We told her to close her eyes and think about everything odd that had ever happened to her, everything she couldn’t explain.

“Are you doing it?” Max asked.

“I am.”

“Tell us one, please,” said Henri.

She told us about how she was at her grandmother’s bedside when she died. The old lady was terribly ill and kept talking to her sister who was dead. Everyone thought she was out of her head on the medications, but she seemed very clear to Josephine.

“What happened?” Jess asked.

“When… when she took her last breath, I saw someone at the foot of the bed. It was just a second, but I could’ve sworn someone was there.”

“Let everything else go,” I said. “Just that moment. Think about that moment alone.”

She nodded.

“Open your eyes.”

Josephine gasped and grabbed the guard’s arm. The ghost put his hand on the security panel. The light went green and there was a click. Max whipped open the door. “Thanks!”

“This one’s for you, Mom!” Henri cried as he went through the door and closed it firmly.

Another click and the light went red.

“I saw a man in… in a blue leisure suit,” said Josephine.

We laughed and the chimes started up. I knew the song instantly. The beat pulsed through me and I smiled. Max and Henri were playing “My Sharona.”

“Why is that for you?” a guard asked.

“When I was dating my husband, he used to play it for me. I was his Sharona.”

“I love that.”

Mariah grabbed my good arm. “Come on. It’s starting.”

We went outside and my mouth dropped. Mark and Susan were there with the kids. Students and professors were coming from everywhere to dance, organized and perfect.

Jess laughed and Josephine asked, “It’s a flash mob? I didn’t think that happened anymore.”

Mariah hugged Jess. “It’s back in a big way. Come on. It’s easy. You can do it with one leg, Libby.”

She dragged Jess into the crowd and I dragged Josephine. Even the guards got in on it. We danced like no one was watching, but they very much were. People were recording and live streaming. I didn’t care. I was back to being Sharona and nothing else mattered.

When it was over, a rush of sadness came over me, but it was only for a split second. A song came over the university public announcement system. “Levitating” by Dua Lipa.

“Come on!” Mariah took off and we followed to the Cornell Store. Out front in the grassy area was a whole other group doing their dance. This time it was themed. We had cooks, custodians, and security having a dance-off with the professors and administrators. Diane was there and she was getting down.

Then “Here Comes the Hotstepper” started and we watched that one on our phones. It was the engineering school versus sororities on the engineering quadrangle. Engineers have serious rhythm. Who knew?

We ran to the grassy area by the law school and watched “Fergalicious” with Ava and the 2Ls leading the dance. The law students let it all out. They sang along and got even their oldest professors in on the action. My phone dinged with a text from Derek. “I’m so proud.”

“Me too,” I replied.

“Check #FunIvy.”

I checked and it was blowing up. The live stream was getting millions of views and Josh had renamed Jordyn’s site and podcast FunIvy. It hadn’t crashed, but it was getting so many hits the counter couldn’t keep up.

Next, we had the Agriculture students and professors doing Beyoncé’s “Texas Hold ‘Em.” Then the school of fine art doing “Tequila Little Time” and so many more.

After the last song, food trucks came onto campus and there was an announcement that classes were canceled for the rest of the day. FunIvy just kept getting more fun.

Crazy Mike’s wasn’t usually open during the week, but they made an exception for us, since most of us were leaving the next day. We arrived and the same bouncer was there. This time he was all smiles and got us past the enormous line that extended halfway down the block.

“Mike’s got popular,” I said.

He grinned. “The word is out that you’d be here, but we’re prepared this time.”

“What does that mean?” Susan asked. “Metamucil and Depends?”

The bouncer burst out laughing. “My mom would kill me. We got your tunes and a karaoke machine.”

Mark squeezed past us with Olivia and Isabelle in tow. “Now you’re talking, Drake. Did you do the Jungle Juice?”

“Yes, sir.”

Mark high-fived him and walked in with his arms up. “Gen X is back with your blast from the past.”

A cheer went up and I saw plenty of familiar faces from our first time at Crazy Mike’s; lots of the students we’d gotten to know and a few professors and administrators too. Josephine was talking to Diane, Galey, and Dr. Bledsoe. Unless I missed my guess, they were all drinking Long Island Iced Teas.

“Jump” by Kris Kross was on and yes, the whole dance floor was jumping. It took me back to a bar where Jess and I once danced to that song. I’d had a few and kept jumping off rhythm. I should’ve been embarrassed, but I couldn’t stop laughing. There were a couple of dancers like me on the floor at Crazy Mike’s and they were taking it the same way. Gales of laughter rang out as I found a table. I wasn’t up to dancing, but it was great fun to see Susan and Mark get out there with Jess. Olivia kept hiding her face, but she was smiling. Isabelle was dancing with Ava and Kelly. Molly was waitressing since Jordyn couldn’t. It’d taken some convincing, but Jess and I talked Jordyn’s dad and Cindy into coming. They were worried about the noise, lights, and just about everything possible, but when they arrived at the table next to me, they were all smiles. A bunch of the dancers from “Tequila Little Time” pulled Jordyn over and chatted with her, showing her their phones. I was pretty sure there would be an art spotlight on FunIvy in the near future.

After a couple more songs, the bartender got up on the small stage and asked who wanted to do karaoke. Everyone was the answer.

Mark grabbed a couple of dads and they went on first, singing “Walk this Way.” Mark was Stephen Tyler. No surprise there. After them, we had some Journey and A-ha and then Whitney Houston by a 3L. She was amazing. After her, Max and Henri rushed the stage to be up next.

Mariah hurried over to me. “What are they doing? Can they just not?”

“Why do you even think that’s a possibility?” I asked.

She slumped into the chair next to me. “I don’t know.”

Max waved at us and took the mic. “This has been the greatest week of our lives!”

The crowd roared and the boys laughed.

“It wouldn’t have happened without Mariah over there. She wanted to do spring break in Ithaca and good things happened. Thanks, Mariah. Best spring break ever!”

Everyone clapped and hooted for Mariah and she smiled while still attempting to be grumpy.

The music started and my boys sang “Rather Be” and danced because they had to dance. Everyone did.

I leaned over to Mariah. “They mean it, you know.”

“I know, but I don’t deserve it.”

“You do.”

She shook her head and looked down, her blonde hair curtains around her face. I went around the table and put an arm around her. Jess saw and started over, but I put up my hand and she stopped.

“Tell me,” I said.

“I didn’t want them on this trip. I didn’t want anyone. It wasn’t about spring break,” Mariah whispered to me.

“I know, honey. If you want to tell me, it can stay between us.”

“You don’t lie to Mom.”

“I won’t lie. I just won’t tell her. She’ll understand,” I said.

Mariah whispered the truth to me. Hal had wanted Cornell for her. It was his dream for them to do spring break in Ithaca, just the two of them taking the tour and exploring. They were going to do it last year, but Jess had already booked a trip with me and so Hal put it off. Now it would never happen, but Mariah wanted to do it the way her dad wanted. Just her. No us.

Tears dripped onto Mariah’s legs and I wiped them away with a napkin.

“It never ends,” she whispered.

“The lost things?”

She nodded. “Mom would be upset to know that I missed it because of the Bahamas.”

“She’ll feel bad, but your mom is a big fan of the truth,” I said. “Do you want to go here?”

Mariah looked up and wiped her eyes. “I didn’t really. It was kinda Dad’s thing, but now I don’t know.”

The boys finished their song and barged in the way they do, with beaming faces and no ability to read the situation.

“Did you like it?” Henri asked. “Were we great or what?”

“You were great,” said Mariah.

“That song is perfect for us,” said Max. “We’re always together.”

“We are,” I said.

Henri frowned. “You two look funny. What are you talking about?”

Not being together.

Mariah surprised me by saying, “Me going to Cornell.”

“You can’t,” said Henri.

“No way,” said Max.

Mariah stood up with her hands in fists. “Stop saying that. I can go here. I’m not stupid. I know I don’t have whatever it is that you have, but I’ve got the grades and the SAT and charity work. I can get in.”

The boys rolled their eyes.

“We know. That’s obvious,” said Max.

“It is?” she asked with surprise.

“Duh,” said Henri. “You rock, but you can’t go here.”

“Why not?” I asked.

The boys threw themselves at Mariah, hugging her and annoying her as much as possible.

“It’s too far. Jess would hate it and we’d never hang out,” said Henri.

“Yeah,” said Max. “You should do undergrad at SLU like the moms and go to Cornell for law.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You think?”

“Why not?” Henri asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“We have,” said Max. “You’d be great at social justice or environmental law.”

“Or working with the elderly or children’s rights,” said Henri.

“I like that. You’d be great at that,” said Max. “What I don’t get is why you suddenly wanted to tour Cornell? You never talked about it before. Sam and Keely are staying in Missouri.”

“My dad wanted me to go here,” she said.

“Oh,” the boys said together.

Max took her arm and pulled her away from the table. “Tell Jess. She thinks you want to get away from her.”

“How do you know that?” Mariah asked.

“Pretty obvious just like your ability to go here,” said Henri.

She crossed her arms. “You two look like you don’t know what’s going on and then⁠—”

“Sneak attack from the dingbats,” said Max with a laugh.

“You’re not that dingy.”

“We’ll remember you said that.”

She smiled at them. “Will you though?”

“Maybe,” said Henri shrugging. “It could happen.”

Josh waved at Max and Henri, pointing at his phone. That kid had hardly stopped working. The FunIvy site had so much going on and he loved it.

“Josh is really happy,” said Mariah. “It’s weird. I feel like I’ve known all of them forever.”

“That can happen when you have a bonding experience,” I said.

“Not the kind I thought would happen here.”

“But good?”

“It is,” she said, looking at Jess. She was still undecided, but I couldn’t push. It was her call.

The music stopped and Mark took the stage and said Jordyn had requested a song for her dad. Mr. Hicks didn’t know what to do when everyone looked at him and he ended up giving an awkward thumbs-up. Jordyn was on the other side of the room with Ava and Kelly, but she quickly came over and said, “I didn’t ask him to do that, Dad.”

“It’s okay,” he said as the music started.

“I just told him that song makes me think of us after it happened with Mom, but we didn’t rise up. We couldn’t.”

Mr. Hicks blushed and Cindy got teary-eyed. “I love this song.”

“Rise up” played and Mr. Hicks asked Jordyn to dance. She stood on his feet and they swayed to the music of hope for a better day.

Mariah stood up and went over to Jess. Soon they were hugging and crying. I was too and Susan sat down next to me with some tissues.

“Thanks. It’s been a time,” I said, dabbing my eyes.

“It has. What do you have planned for the rest of your spring break?” Susan asked.

“I guess we’ll go where the wind blows us.”

“Could it blow you to Pennsylvania?”

“What do you have in mind?”

Susan told me and suddenly I had a plan. We shook hands and she got up to join Mark on the floor where he was doing the chicken dance with Gen Z looking on with horrified fascination. I think they wanted to join in, but they hadn’t quite had enough Jungle Juice yet.

Jess did one round of the chicken with Mark and then came over to me. “I saw you talking to Susan. What was that all about?”

“Have you ever been to Gettysburg?” I asked.

Jess sat back and eyed me. “Once. Felicity had a signing there for her North and South epic.”

“What did you think of the area?”

“I liked it. After the battle reenactment, it was peaceful.”

“It won’t be this time,” I said.

Jess took a sip of her Jungle Juice. “So we have a job in Gettysburg. The Blue and the Gray?”

“Looks like it. Something’s kicked off at the museum.”

She pushed my virgin margarita over to me. “You look worried.”

“A little,” I said. “But maybe it won’t be too…exciting.”

“You know what?” Jess took a big drink of her juice. “I’ve decided peace is overrated.”

I smiled at my friend. “Well, that’s a good thing, because so have they.”

The End

Also by A.W. Hartoin

Jess and Libby Paranormal Cozy Mysteries

Dead Companions (Afterlife Issues Book One)

A Trunk, a Canoe, and all the Barbecue (Afterlife Issues Book Two)

Old Friends and Fedoras (Afterlife Issues Book Three)

The Trouble with Tinsel (Afterlife Issues Book Four)

Fun Ivy (Afterlife Issues Book Five) Coming soon

Mercy Watts Mysteries

A Good Man Gone (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book One)

Diver Down (A Mercy Watts Mystery Book Two)

Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries BookThree)

Drop Dead Red (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Four)

In the Worst Way (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Five)

The Wife of Riley (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Six)

My Bad Grandad (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Seven)

Brain Trust (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Eight)

Down and Dirty (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Nine)

Small Time Crime (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Ten)

Bottle Blonde (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Eleven)

Mean Evergreen (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Twelve)

Silver Bells at Hotel Hell (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Thirteen)

So Long Gone (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Fourteen)

Black Bandana (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Fifteen) Coming soon

Mercy Watts Short Mysteries

Coke with a Twist (Mercy Watts Short Mysteries Book One)

Touch and Go My Book (Mercy Watts Short Mysteries Book Two)

Nowhere Fast (Mercy Watts Short Mysteries Book Three)

Dry Spell (Mercy Watts Short Mysteries Book Four)

A Sin and a Shame (Mercy Watts Short Mysteries Book Five)

Stella Bled WWII Historical Thrillers

The Paris Package (Stella Bled Book One)

Strangers in Venice (Stella Bled Book Two)

One Child in Berlin (Stella Bled Book Three)

Dark Victory (Stella Bled Book Four)

A Quiet Little Place on Rue de Lille (Stella Bled Book Five)

Her London Season (Stella Bled Book Six)

Double Duet (Stella Bled Book Seven)

YA Paranormal

It Started with a Whisper (Son of a Witch Book One)

Angels and Insects (Son of a Witch Book Two)

Young Adult fantasy

Flare-up (Away From Whipplethorn Short)

A Fairy's Guide To Disaster (Away From Whipplethorn Book One)

Fierce Creatures (Away From Whipplethorn Book Two)

A Monster’s Paradise (Away From Whipplethorn Book Three)

A Wicked Chill (Away From Whipplethorn Book Four)

To the Eternal (Away From Whipplethorn Book Five)

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author A.W. Hartoin grew up in rural Missouri, but her grandmother lived in the Central West End area of St. Louis. The CWE fascinated her with its enormous houses, every one unique. She was sure there was a story behind each ornate door. Going to Grandma’s house was a treat and an adventure. As the only grandchild around for many years, A.W. spent her visits exploring the many rooms with their many secrets. That’s how Mercy Watts and the fairies of Whipplethorn came to be.

As an adult, A.W. Hartoin decided she needed a whole lot more life experience if she was going to write good characters so she joined the Air Force. It was the best education she could’ve hoped for. She met her husband and traveled the world, living in Alaska, Italy, and Germany before settling in Colorado for nearly eleven years. Now A.W. has returned to Germany and lives in picturesque Waldenbuch with her family and two spoiled cats, who absolutely believe they should be allowed to escape and roam the village freely.