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About this e-book

Could the charming Cobblewood Cove be hiding a sinister secret of black magic?

Genie and her ghostly great-great-aunt Adriana have been so preoccupied with their gelato business and restoring the old speakeasy that they haven't noticed the strange happenings in their quiet town.

Until pranks with the touch of the macabre haunt the neighborhood, just before Halloween.

And things only get darker from there.

When a locked-room murder suggests a connection to dark powers, the sleuthing duo begins to worry for both the living – and the not-so-living.

Can they uncover the evil lurking in their midst before it threatens Adriana’s peaceful afterlife forever?

Imprint

First edition December 2024

Copyright © 2025 dp books, an imprint of dp DIGITAL PUBLISHERS GmbH
Made in Stuttgart with ♥
All rights reserved

E-Book-ISBN: 978-1-91741-734-1

Cover design by Donna L Rogers

Cover design: Emily Bähr
© Donna L Rogers
Editing: Fiona Leitch

E-book version Apr 24, 2025, 10:46:14 PM.

This work may only be reproduced with the permission of the publisher.

All persons and events in this work are fictitious. Any similarities with real persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental.

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Ghost and the Haunted House

1.

“This isn’t over.”

The words still rang in my ears as I carried the stainless steel container with home-made ice cream to my car. Gem and Gelato had become a booming business within months. Well, at least the gelato part had. The jewelry making bit that had been my not very successful mainstay for years took second place. A far, far off second.

I risked a glance back. A furry face stared back at me from the second-floor window of the Darling villa. Cleo, our tabby cat, made it clear that none of my moves went unobserved.

Who wasn’t in view was the beautiful blonde who’d uttered the ominous words.

I closed my eyes and resigned myself to my fate. Sure enough, there she stood before me the second I opened my eyes again. Adriana Darling, mastermind and nose behind my gelato recipes, knew how to strike a dramatic pose. She also had an uncanny talent to make me smile. Good; otherwise, life would have been even more complicated, considering that we were close to inseparable.

The last bit was more down to circumstance than to voluntary choice. I could go my own way, for a certain amount of time and a certain distance, if Adriana stayed put in the family home where she’d drawn her first and her last breath. Officially, she’d died in 1929, at the age of 21. Which meant the spectral form in front of me which to me was as real, alive and demanding as any other person I knew, was over a decade younger than me, and intent on living her afterlife to the fullest.

That joie de vivre included joining me on my gelato drop-off, after initially deciding to spend the day with Cleo. Something told me my quick trip would not turn out exactly as planned.

Part of that was thanks to Adriana’s most impressive talent. She’s a pet-whisperer, a real one. She communicates with four-legged and feathered creatures with an ease most humans only dream of when talking to each other.

That also meant that she liked to make the rounds in Cobblewood Cove, to check in with her animal friends.

On a mild summer’s evening that had been fun. A week before Halloween, with the first frosts at night, I shivered at the thought of trudging the mean streets with her.

Okay, there are no real mean streets in the small New England town of Cobblewood Cove, at least not that I was aware of.

While my great-great-aunt had spent all of her short lifespan in this tranquil place that in its over 200 years had prided itself on lacking exciting events that would have put it in the history books, I was more of a prodigal daughter.

While I’d visited for summer and special holidays, my parents had raised me in a dozen places in half a dozen countries. My stint in the ancestral home had been meant to be short, and as a favor to my mother, who’d recently remarried after a long widowhood. Yet instead of simply sorting through family heirlooms and donate items of interest to the local museum, I’d ended with a murder to solve, villains to thwart, and a spectral partner in crime.

I’d also found a place to call home.

Adriana waved her hand in front of me. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Like what?” I put down the gelato containers to unlock my car. The trunk popped open, so I could store the tubs side by side.

Adriana raised a hand to the sky. “Your umbrella. I would have brought it, but it’s a little heavy.”

I peered up. My great-great-aunt was right. Where a little while ago, candy cotton clouds had drifted across an expanse of blue, now a dark gray cloud bank approached us.

I dashed back into the house and grabbed an old golf umbrella. It withstood a lot more than a downpour, and it offered cover enough for me, my containers, and my faithful ghost. Not that she needed protection from rain or wind, but it felt wrong to leave her exposed in case the deluge started.

I deposited the umbrella in the back and let Adriana hop in on my side, before I slid behind the steering wheel.

“I thought you were staying at home. What made you change your mind?” I asked.

“Cleo and I decided you needed some support. These teetotal broads can be a tough lot to handle.” Again, she was right. The women she referred to were a small, but fearsome group of empty-nesters who’d found a new cause. My friend Jolene had decided to use her considerable talents to renovate the infamous former speakeasy and return it to its old glory.

While Adriana love the thought of having something out of her past back in her afterlife, others were less enthused. That was mildly put. Over the last week or so placards had sprung up, store owners were badgered into allowing signature collections, and the whole thing became more and more preposterous.

Sure enough, I’d barely dropped off my sweet offerings at the Cocoa Cabana and was on my way out when the head of the crusaders pounced.

Eileen Watkins bared her sharp teeth in the kind of smile that could give small children nightmares for life. Even I shuddered.

“Stop it right there, Genie Darling.”

I halted, and Adriana blew out her breath. She’d perfected the knack of hitting the exact spot with a chill whenever she was unhappy or peeved. I watched with a certain amount of amusement how Eileen hunched her shoulders as the spectral blast washed over her.

But whatever the woman’s many faults, she was made of stern stuff. She thrust her clipboard and a pen into my hands. “Our newest petition. I’ve already filled in your details, so all you need to do is sign.”

Beside me, I sensed Adriana bristling. I signaled to her to keep calm and studied the piece of paper Eileen had prepared.

“Cobblewood Cove Citizens’ Charter against Debauchery? Have you run out of alliterations?”

She pursed her lips. “Mock all you want. One day you’ll be grateful we take these kinds of things seriously.”

“What a dumb Dora,” Adriana muttered. “Can’t even spell, but gets her bloomers in a twist over nothing.”

She tapped her finger on the entry where I was supposed to sign. It said, Jenny Vivian Darling.

I sniggered. Over the years I’d come across a few variations of my given name, Geneviève, but this one took the cake and the biscuits. I’d thought that at least my nickname would have been safe, but apparently even Genie Darling was capable of being mangled in the hands of those on high moral ground and shaky spelling territory.

I returned clipboard and pen unused to their owner. “You can’t really expect my support,” I said. “You didn’t mind when the place was open as a bar.” Until shortly after my return, said establishment had offered one of the very few opportunities to paint the town red (or at least a mild shade of blush) in Cobblewood Cove. It had closed a few months ago.

“We did mind.” She strained to purse her lips even further as a sign of her unyielding disapproval.

I winced. Any moment now, the limits of her botoxed muscles had to be reached and her face might explode. Or implode?

“I don’t remember your group -“

“Cobblewood Cove Citizens’ Charter,” she supplied the name I’d forgotten. “And you’ve seen for yourself the changes in our beautiful town. We have to be vigilant.”

A wobble crept into her voice.

“Excuse me?” The manager motioned us away from the entrance. Behind us, three of Eileen’s cronies lined up to come inside and fight their crusade over hot chocolate with marshmallows, chocolate fudge brownies, and hopefully a scoop or two of my ice-cream.

Adriana and I fled, and right on cue, the clouds burst.

The golf umbrella offered enough protection to save me from getting wet. My great-great-aunt could withstand a hurricane without a single strand of her wavy blonde hairs losing its place or her silk evening dress showing a wrinkle. At least that was my theory. As tempting as it would for a researcher, I had no intention of traveling into the eye of a storm to test it.

We’d survived enough adventures together (or rather, I had, considering her challenging vital state) to convince me of her near indestructibility, given the right circumstances.

Nevertheless, we sought refuge in Butler’s Pantry, the former home of Gem and Gelato and Cobblewood Cove’s premier foodie heaven. It had been run by a succession of family members, all nicknamed Pierre after the original founder, a Huguenot emigrant called Pierre Bouteillier. The family name had been anglicized, the rest not.

The last Pierre had died several weeks ago. With no chef in the family to take over and recreate the recipes generations of Pierre’s had guarded from prying eyes, Butler’s Pantry now belonged to an outside investor. Currently, a couple of builders were busy reverting the dining area into the proper restaurant it used to be, before my friend and mentor scaled down due to age.

“Hey, Genie.” Jolene, handywoman, waved at me from the back of the room. She held up two swatches with fabric. “Which do you prefer?”

I gazed at the stripes. As a jewelry designer specializing in Egyptian Revival and art déco, I prided myself on a good imagination. Still, I had no clue how to use dark blue or emerald green satin with a geometrical silver pattern in this establishment. “Where are they supposed to go?”

Butler’s Pantry had a distinct, quiet flair, reminiscent of the late 19th century. Dark wood, velvet curtains and shipboard parquet were fine. This satin, on the other hand, would stand out like the Citizens’ Charter at an orgy.

I frowned. Jolene had excellent taste and judgement. She’d been in charge of remodeling my apartment in the Darling villa to the exacting demands of both my mother Aimée, who’d shed the prosaic Amy as soon as she’d left these shores as a newly wed, and of Adriana.

In the first case, it came down to the generosity of Aimée’s second husband. In the case of my great-great-aunt, her spectral life force had a link to items connected with her person before she died. That meant keeping all the original bits and finding other items to match.

For Jolene to come up with clashing ideas was bewildering.

Adriana ogled the swatches. “They’d be perfect for my daybed.”

Silently, I agreed. Still, considering the amount of money I, or rather my mother, had already spent on refurbishing our apartment, and also considering that Adriana plus cat drifted from cushy spot to cushy spot, I didn’t say a word.

“I’ll pay for it with my share of the business.” Adriana fluttered her eyelashes at me. “You wouldn’t want to stiff me?”

“They’re not for this eatery.” Jolene waved the swatches around. “I thought about upholstering a few loveseats in the speakeasy. Which still has no fixed name.”

Did I detect a touch of accusation in her voice? “I’ll have a list of possibilities by tonight. I promise. And I love this fabric.” I glanced at Adriana for guidance on which to pick.

She pointed her finger at the left swatch.

So did I. And then I earned major brownie points in my great-great-aunt’s good book. I asked, “Can you have a couple of cushions made for me from the same fabric?”

“You really have been bitten by the interior design bug. Hard to believe how the villa looked a few months ago,” Jolene said.

Adriana preened. I let her have this moment. Without her, I wouldn’t be the successful, award-winning owner of Gem and Gelato. Heck, without her, I wouldn’t be in Cobblewood Cove at all. I’d have missed out on a lot of things.

In the background, the builders downed their tools for a break.

“Have the new bosses given you have a re-opening date yet?” I asked Jolene.

The kitchen would stay in the safe hands of Pierre’s former second-in-command. I’d have to decide if I wanted to stay at the Cocoa Cabana or return to Butler’s Pantry, where I’d started, or supply both.

“Right before Thanksgiving,” she said. “That’ll give me the chance to finish my old speakeasy first.”

I peered through the window. Puddles stood on the pavement and rivulets ran towards the gutters, but the rain had stopped. Unfortunately, that also meant Eileen was on the prowl again.

Jolene noticed her too. She groaned. “They’re more irksome than a rash, and at least as persistent.”

“Don’t tell me she had the guts to take you on personally,” I said.

Adriana sniggered. “Then she’s a dumb Dora alright. Nobody messes with Jolene.”

That statement was a simple fact. Without Jolene, who also ran the family hardware store Nuts and Bolts and could fix anything, from electrical faults to broken windows, the townsfolk would be in trouble.

I’d seen grown people blanch at the mention of her going on vacation.

If Eileen harassed Jolene, she’d do so at her own peril.

My friend confirmed as much. “It would be fun to see her try,” she said, with an almost wistful air. “That’d add a little excitement to the day.”

I reeled. “You’re kidding. I’m glad we’re back to a normal, quiet backwater, without muggings and murder, and us being in the thick of it.”

“I didn’t mean, like, crime stuff.” Jolene sounded contrite. “Only a bit of spice to keep me from overthinking what I’m doing, what I should have done, and if I’m off my rockers with wanting to restore the speakeasy.”

Adriana touched Jolene’s shoulder in an effort to calm her down. “Breathe easy,” she whispered. “Relax.”

It had no effect. My great-great-aunt grimaced. As much as she cared about our friends, she couldn’t connect with them. That left me and Cleo as her only circle. Well, us and every animal she met for longer than a minute.

“You tell her to buck up,” Adriana said.

I obeyed. “It’s going to be fine. Tonight we’ll sort out the name for your establishment and then we’ll plan the opening party.”

“Toast of the town,” Adriana chirped. I wasn’t sure of she meant that as a moniker for the old speakeasy or as a tribute to Jolene. Anyway, I found myself nodding in agreement.

Jolene grinned at me. “Thanks. I’ll better make sure we put the pedal to the metal here. See you tonight at yours.”

With the still wet golf umbrella held away from my body, Adriana and I ventured out onto Main Street. The car could stay where it was. Our next stop was only a few hundred yards away.

In the library hallway, I stuffed my umbrella into the well-filled stand. Daphne Mills, head librarian and the other participant of tonight’s girls’ night in, kept shushing Eileen, who’d moved her crusade to the reception desk. “It’s utterly inappropriate for me in my official position to take sides. The same goes for the idea of letting you browbeat the users of this public library.”

Adriana applauded. “That’s the best polite dressing down I’ve heard since my mom took on the stuffy old guys over the vote for women.”

That was an enormous compliment. Adriana’s mom, Rosalind, had gone down in both town history and family lore as “Daredevil” Darling.

Eileen fought back. “I’m a taxpayer and you’re hired to serve us. You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do.” She pinned one of her misguided petition sheets to the notice board with a force that screamed of anger management issues.

Daphne’s spectacles slipped down her nose, a sign of inner turmoil. Outwardly, she kept her cool. “Fred?”

Fred Ward, Cobblewood Cove’s busiest retiree and multi-hyphenate volunteer, materialized from behind the shelves with the self-help books. In his hands, he held a “How To Make Friends” guide.

I chuckled as he motioned Eileen towards the exit.

“Please come back another time, when you’re inclined to peruse our reading materials, Mrs. Watkins.” The affable smile on his chubby face made it impossible for her to snap at him, at least in front of an audience. I’d counted five people watching the scene.

Nothing traveled faster than juicy gossip in a small town. Before the day was out, the battle of wills at the library would more closely resemble the gunfight at the OK Corral.

Eileen had one last parting shot. “I’ll stop this sinful venture, with or without your help, if it’s the last thing I’ll do.”

2.

The silence that fell as Eileen marched out of the library lasted all of 15 seconds. Then two things happened simultaneously. Daphne banged her stamp in a way I’d learned was her way to let off steam while at work, and one of the spectators declared, “That Eileen gal’s a real piece of work.”

“No kidding,” Adriana said.

Daphne cleared her throat. “Please ignore this incident. We’re all entitled to an opinion.”

She turned her attention to me. “I’ve found a few things of interest in the old papers, but they’re surprisingly patchy. I’ll bring them tonight.”

“I bet it’s all a load of applesauce,” Adriana muttered. “My dad said a few of the high and mighty kept the newspaper people on a tight leash.”

I covered my mouth with my handkerchief and whispered. “At least you’ll be able to fill in the missing parts.”

My great-great-aunt gave a modest shrug. “Fair enough.”

“Shall we go?” I asked. If Daphne brought whatever she’d discovered about the speakeasy during its heydays, including an infamous raid, there was no need to stay.

“No. I want to hear what’s going on with that Eileen broad. Ask Fred.” She shimmied around a magazine rack.

Fred spun in a slow circle when I asked him, to make sure we were out of earshot. “This is strictly between us two.”

“Three,” Adriana corrected him, more out of habit than anything else. She’d spent enough time since her awakening from close to a century of being dead to have come to terms with the challenges of her renewed existence.

“Absolutely,” I said.

“It’s like this. You remember her husband, Herbert?”

I shook my head.

“Comb-over and three-piece suit, until he got his hair-implants and leather jacket?”

The first description rang a distant bell in my memory. “Isn’t that the director of the funeral home?”

“Former director, he is now traveling a lot for the company that owns the chain. The midlife crisis hit him real hard, and when he sampled the nightlife in a big city during a conference, well, let’s say, Cobblewood Cove’s homegrown attractions seemed a little stale.”

“And now Eileen is worried what a decent night club would do to her husband?”

Fred lowered his voice until I had to cup my ear to understand a word. “Worse. She’s afraid her only son will follow in his old man’s footsteps. Herbert is rumored to have developed a fondness for daiquiri and dancers. That’s why she’s hell-bent on keeping the town temptation free.”

“That’s exactly how the prohibition started,” Adriana said. “We’ve got to stop this before they’ll suck all the juice out of life.”

“And her cronies? Are they all afraid their menfolk will take a walk on the wild side, because of a bit of classy fun in the evening? Or does anybody really believe Jolene, of all people, is intent on creating a den of iniquity? If anything, the citizens’ chapter ought to be glad they can keep an eye on goings-on. Which they probably can’t wherever good old Herbert Watkins is living it up,” I said.

“They should, but Eileen has them so riled up they’re not thinking straight.”

“Or at all.” Adriana rubbed her hands in glee. “This is going to be fun.” She floated a few inches off the ground to show me how much the idea of besting the anti-speakeasy brigade invigorated her.

With a renewed promise to keep my lips zipped, I left Fred to his own devices and went to pick up my car.

Adriana hummed to herself. “Yes sir, that’s my baby.”

A small boy jumped into a puddle, splashing his unimpressed mother in the process. Otherwise, there was not a single soul outside. This included the four-legged population.

I saw two cats staring at us through windows and one terrier in his little dog house. Adriana blew him kisses, for once not stopping for a cozy chat. It was too damp and chilly to hang around.

I switched on the seat heating, one of the most civilized inventions of the last century. Adriana didn’t need it, but she loved the idea.

“Let’s swing by the old place,” she said. “I feel an inspiration coming up.”

“Inspiration, or memories?” Since Adriana had visited the speakeasy once or twice - she and her sister Belle, as well as their friends, had preferred the much classier illicit places in Boston - she was the expert when it came to restoring it to its former glory. She and the original architects. My great-great-aunt – and Jolene – had their hearts set on ensuring as much authenticity as possible when the joint opened its doors again, so we tried to unearth any reference material still in existence.

There was one errand we had to take care of first, before heading towards the speakeasy. I squeezed the car into a spot right outside the city hall. Official opening hours were almost over and we had to hurry before Missy Dooley locked the door of the building department and its archive to the public.

“You go ahead,” Adriana said.

“Really?” Then I noticed the dripping cat hiding under a pickup truck. “I’ll be quick,” I promised.

She waved me off, already crouching to make contact with the little animal. “Hello, sweetheart,” she cooed.

Inside, I dashed up the worn staircase and knocked at the door of the building department.

“Come in,” a weary voice said.

Missy held court behind her desk. Behind her, a row of steel cabinets held a copy of every permit issued and every blueprint of buildings erected in Cobblewood Cove since 1902, or so I’d been told.

“I’ve got something for you.” She peered at me with an intensity that suggested she needed spectacles. I knew that kind of stare. Aimée had the same look when she forgot her contact lenses.

“That’s brilliant.” I beamed at Missy, elevating her in my opinion to my top five public officials ever. I’d asked her for any paper or picture connected with the speakeasy only a couple of weeks ago, when she'd returned to work after illness followed by a brief vacation period. Now here she was, an unlikely heroine in a power suit and teased hair that added two inches to her short stature. Rhinestone studded hair pins adorned the sides.

Both clothes and hairstyle were new. When I’d first met Missy, she’d worn comfortable pants and a cashmere cardigan, and her bobbed hair gave her a nice, but no-frills look.

She touched her updo with a self-conscious air. “Is it too much? I thought with all these changes in town, I could do with a bit of a rejuvenation, too.”

“You look great,” I said, with more politeness than candor. To be honest, I’d preferred the old version, but I also could understand getting bored if nothing in your life ever changed. Both Missy and her husband Winston were born in Cobblewood Grove, went to school here and were destined to never leave.

He divided his hours between doing something well-paid in finance, and playing golf. She worked part time at the building department to get out of the house and to give her something to do apart from playing bridge and volunteering at the kindergarten. The Dooleys were childless, although not by choice.

She had become one of my most loyal customers too, with a large gelato order every Friday for the nursery kids.

The folder she produced for me carried a rust brown spot. The rest of the cardboard was faded with old age. “It’s a set of copies from the 1950s,” she said. “I hope it’s going to help with whatever you guys are doing.”

“So do I.” In her wastepaper basket, I spotted one of Eileen’s petitions, unsigned and unwanted.

Missy chuckled as she followed my gaze. “You’d think she’d have given up by now. She’s not getting many signatures, that much I can tell you. And we won’t have that kind of thing here at City Hall.” She winked at me. “Of course, there’ll be a lot of inspections in Jolene’s place before the opening, and possibly after as well. We’ve got to see to it that menu and everything are up to standard.”

“You won’t be disappointed,” I said. “Jolene is doing her best to ensure that Cobblewood Cove has the sort of evening entertainment it deserves.”

Missy’s gaze wandered to the wall clock.

“I’ll better run,” I said, well aware that office hours had ended four minutes ago. “Next gelato-delivery for the kids is on me.”

A dimple showed in her cheek. “Aren’t you sweet?”

3.

A brown leaf floated in the water of a bird fountain. Adriana lingered as a couple of starlings fluttered closer.

“Another day,” I told her firmly. The dark clouds in the distance signaled a second downpour, and we had to come up with a few ideas for Jolene. Darlings through history had kept their word. I intended to keep it that way.

With a last lingering glance at the birds, who now played tug-of-war over a fat worm, she jumped into the car with me.

The old speakeasy was only a little over a mile away, but in this mile the scenery changed from the stately mansion of the Schuyler sisters and the classical front of the museum to offices, and a couple of modern apartment buildings.

I’d have been able to pinpoint the speakeasy from the sandwich-board protesting it. The rain had drenched the posters tacked on to it. Eileen had done a poor job, I thought, amused. A little money spent on laminating would have been her friend, but then she didn’t strike me as a person who thought things through.

I waved at Samantha Bell, owner of the recently opened Bell’s Books and Candles, which sold everything from crystals to tarot cards, cauldrons and all kinds of herbal mixtures and esoteric books.

She didn’t notice me. Her attention focused on Winston Dooley. I couldn’t hear what he said, but she shook her head in such a determined manner I had to remember it for my next argument with my great-great-aunt.

Except, Adriana studied the scene as well. “We should have a browse in her store. I like her.”

“Soon,” I said. I liked Samantha too, despite only meeting her twice since she set up shop and moved into the apartment on top of her business. Her new abode had until recently been used for violin lessons, until so many dogs had howled outside that the owner first sound-proofed and then sold it.

Samantha’s store and Jolene’s passion project made for an interesting addition to the town. The only reason Adriana and I weren’t in there now, rifling through all the wares, was my lingering doubts about the occult.

Right until the moment when I’d flung off my shoes and hit my great-great-aunt, who’d chosen that split second to materialize, I’d have guffawed at the idea of specters. Yet here I was, letting her run my life. What if there were other, less benign forces at play in Cobblewood Cove? A store catering to the spiritual world would be a magnet, especially coming up for Halloween.

Even if there was nothing to fear, Samantha might stock something that spooked Adriana. I’d once made the mistake of letting her watch “Blithe Spirits” with its attempts at ghost-banning. It had taken her weeks to recover from the shock.

The space between Samantha’s store and the speakeasy belonged to a former soup kitchen, turned support group center, turned storage facility for several charities. Donated furniture was kept in one room, toys for the toy library and nursery took up another room. Clothes made up the bulk of wares passing through. Volunteers examined them once a month.

The inhabitants of Cobblewood Cove tended to be well-off, or at least able to pay their bills. We still spared a thought for the less fortunate, hence the charitable works. Anything valuable would be auctioned off either online or in a neighboring town.

In some cases, the items stayed in Cobblewood Cove. A set of tables and chairs dating back to the 1920s now waited for Jolene’s attention.

Adriana pressed her nose against the opaque window of the speakeasy. Jolene had covered the glass from the inside with a dark film. Once she was done with the renovation, it would peel off easily. Until then, only a select few had any idea what the interior looked like.

We’d been inside before, once while it was still a bar, and once to tour the premises with Jolene.

I turned my back, so I didn’t have to watch my great-great-aunt walk through a wall, or most times, a closed door. I pretended to read the drenched posters on the sandwich board. “Say no to witchcraft and whisky!!!” Dark red made the exclamation marks look ominously like blood spatter.

“Say no to debauchery!!!” This time, the exclamation marks were yellow. The rest was illegible and hung in torn pieces from the board.

Winston caught up with me. “Crazy, isn’t it?”

“I’d have thought they’d lead with the debauchery. It seems as if Eileen’s at least as unhappy about Samantha’s business as about the idea of having a few cocktails and catchy tunes.” I grinned. I didn’t know Winston well, but his eyes held a nice twinkle and I hadn’t heard anything bad about him.

He held an empty cardboard box. “I should run along. Missy had me drop off a few more toys.”

I thought I detected a wistful tone in his voice. It seemed it wasn’t just his wife who missed having kids of their own.

Adriana only saw his retreating back when she reappeared. “I’m ready. Unless you want to drop into Samantha’s place?”

I pointed at the sky. “We better hurry home.”

***

Cleo greeted us with a plaintive meow. The poor cat had been forced to eat the last crumbs in her dry food bowl, to save her from starvation.

I hastened to remedy that situation. A well-fed cat was a happy cat, as Adriana kept on reminding me.

My great-great-aunt wafted around the room, appraising the soft furnishings. I assumed she already tried out the various spots where the new cushions could go.

I was wrong.

Instead, she beckoned me over to the coffee table where a handful of period magazines rested on top of a book on art déco and art nouveau that I - and Jolene - had used for inspiration.

“Open it,” Adriana said.

A few months ago, I’d have asked why. Now, older and wiser, I asked, “On what page?”

It appeared the chapter on modern art was what we wanted. I turned the pages for her.

“There.” A triumphant finger pointed at a wall-high painting of a Charleston dancer. “The old speakeasy had one of those, to hide a secret door that led to a hallway and the back.”

“Really?”

“They all had something, in case the police turned up.” She gave me a nonchalant shrug, every inch the epitome of the worldly socialite.

“Then what went wrong?” Cobblewood Cove’s law enforcement had indeed on one infamous night raided the establishment. Among those arrested were some of the town’s movers and shakers, now themselves shaking in their boots.

Adriana chuckled. “From what I heard, the door was locked because the barkeeper had stashed the booze in the hallway. He was scared someone might pinch it.”

“I assume he didn’t endear himself to his customers.”

“His next job was as a janitor at the Temperance Club.”

Now I chuckled too.

“Anyway, the old painting would be perfect as a house-warming gift for Jolene.”

“It would, if we could put our hands on it.”

“We can.” She fussed with her immaculate hair, to heighten the suspense.

“Where is it?”

She gave me a pitying look. “What do you think?”

“That we have guests tonight? Or that I need to come up with ideas for Jolene? And that I have too much on my plate to play games?”

“Where else than the museum? Or rather, the storage area, where some of the Darling heirlooms are gathering dust.”

I stopped my face-palm less than an inch from my forehead. “I should have thought of that.”

“True. Which is a little worrying for Cleo and me. It’s not like you to be so slow.” Two pairs of eyes fastened on me.

“It’s been a few stressful months,” I admitted. “Murder and mayhem take their toll.” Not to mention the fear about the effect of Halloween on my favorite not quite alive family member.

“You need a break. We could go on a vacation.”

Cleo growled.

Adriana hastened to add, “One where cats are welcome and where we can take the Pullman train. You’ll love them.” She tickled the cat under the chin.

“I’d be happy to just sit here and do nothing for a few days,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “How likely is that?”

“Not very, especially with this fresh addition to our task list.” I scribbled a note to myself, “Convince Schuylers to let me have the painting.”

Adriana tapped her nose. “I’ll put my thinking cap on while we finish the ice-cream for tomorrow.”

I could feel a nervous twitch coming on. “I’d almost forgotten about that.”

“Lucky for you, you’ve got Cleo and me.”

***

I was just done with storing the fresh gelato in the garage freezer when the girls arrived.

On the staircase, Daphne staggered under the weight of her tote.

“Let me help you,” Jolene offered.

“I’m good. I need to get used to this, anyway.” She caught her breath. “You’d think all the shelving I do would keep me fit.”

“Totally different,” Jolene said.

Hostess duties compelled me to take the tote for the final steps into my apartment. Daphne hadn’t exaggerated her reaction. “What’s in that bag?”

Daphne sank into a chair. Jolene filled a glass of water for her as I returned the bag.

“I’ve taken a page out of your book, Genie.” She opened the tote to show us two large bricks. “If anyone attacks me, these bad boys will teach them not to mess with me.”

“More likely, you’ll end up with a slipped disc. A half brick works fine, and you can carry it without hurting yourself.” All this was true. I only omitted that the brick in my purse might double for self-defense purposes, but its main reason was the fact that it came from the Darling villa and grounded Adriana on our trips outside.

“You’ve never been nervous before,” Jolene said. “Why this sudden change of heart?”

Daphne gave us a sheepish look. “Samantha told me she senses trouble ahead.”

“The lady of the occult? What did she try to sell you?”

“Nothing. She came into the library to catch up with town events and mentioned a strong foreboding.”

“See? We have to visit that store. It’s going to be fun,” Adriana said.

“Speaking of events.” Jolene cleared her throat.

I spread out the copies I’d received from Missy. “These are the old blueprints,” I said. “There’s a page missing, but you can see the layout of the room and the secret hallway.”

Daphne rummaged in her tote. “Fred found a few pictures that didn’t make it into the newspaper, for obvious reasons.”

She spread a selection of black-and-white photographs on the table. One showed a merry crowd raising tea cups of all things. Another showed a jazz band with an intoxicated man in a dinner jacket slumped against the stage.

Pictures of scantily clad dancing girls and ogling gentlemen caused Adriana to squeeze in between Daphne’s chair and the sofa. I pushed the photos around a little so Adriana could study them without distorting herself.

“That’s a good one,” she said. “The guy in the back, the one whose eyes are popping out staring at the girls? That’s the councilman who was preaching brimstone and hellfire for wayward women when mom led the suffragette movement.”

I grinned. “That sounds eerily familiar.”

Daphne and Jolene raised their eyebrows at me. I’d forgotten the first rule of ghost club.

“It sounds familiar that those photos weren’t published,” I said. “Bribery and turning a blind eye to the peccadilloes of the upper class have a long tradition.”

“At least this should give you a few ideas about the decoration,” Daphne said.

“The bar area is simple to recreate. The current stage would need a little more extending.” Jolene focused again on the photos.

“Have you decided on the acts?” I asked.

“Folks need room to dance,” Adriana said. I repeated her words.

A cloud flitted over Jolene’s face. “I’m working on it.”

Daphne grimaced. “Don’t tell me Eileen’s gang is browbeating Felix into pulling out of the venture.”

“He can’t do that,” Adriana protested. I agreed with her. Felix Goodge was the owner of Vine and Vinyl, a recent addition to the town’s attractions. He also was a gifted pianist, with a passion for the music from Adriana’s youth.

“They’ve made him an offer to teach evening classes, and to play for the dance school.” Jolene plastered on a bright smile. “We’ll sort it out. More important is how to call the darn business. Promotion and marketing don’t happen overnight.”

Her pointed stare made me cringe a little.

“You could revive the original name,” Daphne suggested.

“I don’t think so,” Adriana muttered. “The owner may have called it Chuck’s after his dad and best customer, but it was more commonly known as Upchuck’s.”

A giggle rose in my throat. I stifled it.

“What about Jolene’s? Or Chez Jolene?” For a well-read librarian, Daphne’s suggestion felt a trifle mundane.

I intervened. “If you want to refer back to the Roaring Twenties and this town’s love for alliterations, how about Hoofers and Hooch? Or Chin Chin?” A quick glance at my phone reminded me of the third option that topped Adriana’s list. “You could also call it Toast of the Town.”

Jolene let the suggested names roll off her tongue. So did Daphne.

“I like them all,” Jolene said. “They’d make really pretty logos too.”

“Sleep on it,” I suggested. “We could create an informal survey group too.”

“Good thinking.” The frown on Jolene’s forehead disappeared as if by magic, and she was back to her usual unflappable self. “We could use all the newly returned people. Anyone who’s used to a world beyond a 50-mile radius of Cobblewood Cove.”

Now I felt my brows furrow. “Who are you talking about? Aimée and I’d qualify, but that’s not exactly enough for a survey.”

“Don’t forget Samantha. We could also ask the older generation.”

“It’s always good to keep the Schuylers and Fred involved,” I agreed. “I didn’t know Samantha had connections to Cobblewood Cove.”

“Born, bred, and fled after high school graduation. She and Winston Dooley used to be an item for a bit. Maybe she felt the urge to reconnect with her roots after getting burned by a philandering husband. Or she had enough of the crazy heat in Austin.” Jolene laughed at our surprise. “It’s not exactly a secret, although all she says is she came back to rediscover a missing piece of her life.”

“You ask her then about her opinion,” I said. My stomach rumbled. “Pizza’s ready in 15 minutes.”

I could almost see them salivate.

We were digging into the second pizza when Jolene’s phone rang. She groaned and pushed the offending item away. “If that’s another clogged drain to fix, I’m not available. Last night, I had a call about a broken lightbulb.”

I glimpsed the caller ID. "Not likely. It's Hank."

We all tensed. Hank Newby wasn’t only Jolene’s cousin, he was also a police officer.

"He probably needs to let off steam about a family member, again." Jolene grimaced as she accepted the call. “Hey, buddy, what’s up?” She held her phone so we all could hear.

“It’s your new place. We got an alert for vandalism. Not much damage, but you might want to have a looky-loo.”

“I’m on my way.” She ended the call.

“We’ll come with you.” Daphne grabbed her tote. “It seems as if Samantha was right on the money with her sense of foreboding.”

4.

We stood outside the speakeasy. Our flashlights glinted on a few shards of glass littering the sidewalk. Jolene’s mouth set in a grim line. “Serves me right for putting off installing security cameras.”

“It’s probably kids,” her cousin said. “I’ll write the police report tonight and you can put in your insurance claim first thing tomorrow.”

We stared at the broken window. The vandals had chosen the small one at the side that belonged to the tiny office. It should be easy to replace, unlike the enormous window out front.

Daphne had left us as soon as we’d established that the situation was a nuisance, but not serious. As a new dog mom, she tried to spend her evenings with her canine, or take him along. Tonight, she’d left him with a sitter who charged by the hour.

Adriana floated inside. “There’s more glass. If you sweep it up now, the poor mouse family won’t hurt their paws. And there are a few planks you could nail across the opening.”

Trust my great-great-aunt to think of the animals first, I thought. I omitted to mention the rodents to Jolene. Not everyone shared my great-great-aunt’s fondness for most creatures, great and small.

“Is this a crime scene, or are we allowed to go inside?” I asked Hank.

“I’m done,” he said. “I’ve bagged a rock, covered in weird scrawls. The lab’ll test it for fingerprints.”

From inside, I heard Adriana snigger. “He’s come a long way, hasn’t he?” She clearly remembered our first meeting, when he’d also chalked up a burglary as kids’ vandalism. He hadn’t done any sweeping for evidence back then, but maybe he took things more seriously now. Or he did it for Jolene.

As for the bored teenager theory, I had my doubts. There were a lot of people who would prefer Jolene’s business venture to be shuttered.

We waved Officer Hank Newby goodbye and took the delivery entrance. The secret hallway exit Adriana had mentioned was either perfectly camouflaged or had become this very mundane part of the building.

Jolene switched on the lights. A broom and dustpan stood ready in a corner. A broken pallet leaned against the wall.

“I’ll collect the shards and you board up the window,” I suggested and reached for the broom.

Adriana squatted next to the pallet and whispered a few inaudible words, which I took for instructions for the mice. “Hot diggidy doo,” she exclaimed. “Come here.”

I stopped sweeping.

Jolene opened the toolbox, blissfully oblivious to my relative.

Adriana tried to pick up something. I stopped her. While her enthusiasm was limitless, her actual energy levels were tiny, especially far from the Darling villa. I didn’t want her to exhaust herself.

“Show me,” I whispered.

Without her, I would have overlooked the tiny cone. I took a Kleenex and wrapped it around.

“Smell it,” Adriana said. “It’s incense.”

I sniffed. A hint of sandalwood hit my nostrils. It needed a nose like Adriana’s to smell anything apart from fresh sawdust and the wax used to seal the floorboards.

I weighed the cone in my hand. I had no idea what it meant or what to make of it. It seemed odd, though, to find it in the empty office of a building in the renovation stage, unless the builders liked to burn incense to sweeten the air.

“Can you hold the board in place?” Jolene asked.

“Ouch.” One single splinter on a four-feet piece of wood, and I’d unerringly put my hand on it.

“I’ll be finished in two minutes,” Jolene said. With a few deft blows, she boarded up the broken window. “Now, show me your injury.”

I held out my hand. The splinter stuck in my palm.

Jolene produced tweezers, a bottle of iodine, and a cotton pad from her toolbox. “This should do it. I don’t want Matt chewing me out because you’re hurt.” A twist of her tweezers, and the splinter was gone. The iodine stung a little.

“He won’t be back for another week, so you’re safe, anyway.” I kept my tone casual as I mentioned my boyfriend, who also happened to be Jolene’s second cousin, and Adriana’s second favorite man in the world, after Cary Grant.

“All done.” Jolene stowed away her first aid supplies.

As she dropped me and my faithful specter off at the Darling villa, I worried about my companion. She’d been conspicuously quiet since we found the incense. Normally, any mention of Matt caused her to swoon or to lecture me about the importance of keeping a “sheikh” like him.

Was she silent because the trip and the closeness to Bell’s Book and Candles had zapped her energy? Or did she do her best to avoid the elephant in the room?

Because that’s what Matt had become. We’d been a couple for almost six months, and I had no secrets from him. Well, apart from the one who now flung herself onto the sofa. Matt was as of yet blissfully unaware that I came as a twin pack, complete with a pet-whispering ghost.

I’d almost told him a few weeks ago until we were interrupted. Then his work as a museum security expert called him away again and again. Now we were close to Halloween, and the ideal moment still hadn’t come.

“Are you upset with me?” I asked my still silent great-great-aunt.

She treated me to her best wide-eyed ingenue impression. Thanks to her dramatic flair and a steady diet of golden age movies, she could’ve given Constance Bennett and Claudette Colbert a run for their money any day. “Me? Why?”

“Because I promised to tell Matt about you, and I haven’t yet. It’s just not something it’s easily done in a heartbeat. Oh, by the way, honey, these warm and fuzzy feelings you get around me? That’s probably due to my great-great-aunt who’s standing right beside you.” My voice rose to a feverish pitch.

“Don’t worry.” She sat up.

“So, you don’t want me to tell him after all.”

“Applesauce. Of course you have to. And you will, once I’ve sorted out this whole mess.” She cast a jaundiced eye over our living quarters. Considering the apartment had been restored to resemble her original rooms, and contained as many of her old belongings or period features as possible, her judgment hurt my feelings.

I loved art déco, but I also wouldn’t have minded imprinting a little more of my personality. Instead, I’d gone with whatever was best for Adriana, and this was the thanks I got. I snorted.

So did Cleo, who broke into a loud meow. Adriana giggled as she reached for my hand.

In the blink of an eye, the caterwauling became real words to me. “You should listen to Adriana. Wasn’t she the one who taught you what’s best to feed me? She’s never wrong.”

I could have mentioned a few instances where Adriana had made a blunder or too. Then again, it would have been churlish. Also, I had no intention of starting a literal cat fight.

“Explain, oh wise one.” If the two of them picked up on my sarcasm, or both decided they were the one addressed, so be it.

Adriana sashayed over to my bookcase and her special shelf. Without the physical contact with her, Cleo’s chatter became nothing but cat noise again to me. With a last hiss, she fell silent.

“The energy is all wrong,” Adriana declared. “Give me my Feng Shui magazine.”

I flipped the pages for her until she made me stop. She screwed her eyes shut. “Don’t you feel it yourself?”

“All I feel is tired, and my hand hurts.”

Her blue eyes flew open. “Poor you, I almost forgot. You need to heal before we rearrange the furniture, to open the passages for positive energies to flow.”

I groaned.

“It’s got to be done, Genie. Or you will always have stumbling blocks when it comes to your happiness and success.” Her shoulders slumped.

Considering that I’d been the one who brought home those magazines to entertain her when I was gone, I only had myself to blame. On good days, she could turn a page on her own. On other days, or when she wanted to make the cat feel included, our tabby did the job. She used her claws to do it, but the occasional pinprick on a page was a small price to pay for Adriana’s entertainment. At least that had been my thought until now.

“It’s not too bad,” Adriana said in the reassuring tone that almost always accompanies a falsehood. “We can plan it all over the weekend.”

5.

The next morning, I woke up to the purr of a cat and the sight of a ghost pushing my slippers into place.

With nary a rain cloud in sight and a solid night of uninterrupted sleep, I put last night’s events into perspective. No harm ever came from rearranging a few pieces of furniture or adding some crystals and scented candles to the room.

As for the speakeasy, Hank was right. Bored teenagers were likelier candidates for smashing a window than law-abiding, if slightly stuffy pillars of society. Our previous encounters with murder and mischief had made me overly suspicious, I reasoned.

I beamed at my great-great-aunt, who’d finished her strenuous efforts. “Shall we go check on your furry friends after breakfast?”

Cleo growled. “A short tour,” I hastened to add. “We’ll be back in good time for your walk, too.”

Cleo’s outdoor adventures were confined to the backyard, under supervision. She’d once ventured further and discovered that the grass was greenest on her own ground, without constant traffic and small children who grabbed her tail.

I had a spring in my step as I strolled towards the square. raced ahead or fell behind as she pleased. The brick in my purse gave her enough freedom to chat to the black cat sunning herself on a gate and the beagle taking a break from chasing his ball.

I’d grown used to the additional weight in my purse. Since it gave me the chance to move on without loitering too obviously until Adriana had finished her gossip exchange, we both enjoyed a little me time.

My mood was so mellow that I decided to seize the moment when I spotted Primrose Schuyler. I waved at her, while signaling Adriana behind my back with the other hand that I needed her.

She hurried to my side. “What’s up?”

I gave my great-great-aunt an enigmatic smile as I joined the silver-haired lady. “Are you heading to the museum?” I asked her.

“You want to visit your family’s contributions again?”

Adriana’s head bobbed up and down. “That’d be swell. I want to see if they’ve really kept everything.”

My mouth twitched. Everything included a chamber pot and other items of a similar nature I’d happily donated. “That too. But I also have a favor to ask.” I glanced furtively around. The Schuylers loved a good secret, if they were in on it. If I thought about it, so did I and Adriana.

The Cobblewood Cove museum, open to the public on two afternoons a week and by appointment, possessed a state-of-the-art security system. The Schuylers took the responsibility for exhibits on loan seriously.

Adriana sung under her breath while we waited. And waited. Locks and electronic keypads all played their part in the opening ritual, and Primrose had lately developed arthritis in her hands, which slowed her down.

Inside, a permanent exhibition of items from the long and rather lackluster town history occupied the main room. A side room held changing exhibitions.

Adriana flitted around. She returned pouting. “Nothing new. At least nobody will have to see the chamber pot.”

A large room at the back served as storage. Like every museum, most items rarely, if ever, saw the light of day. They were stored, restored, cataloged, or hoarded and forgotten.

I took out a copy of the article with the painting Adriana had mentioned and presented it to Primrose. “I believe I saw this in the back room. It belonged to the original Chuck’s, and I’m sure Jolene would be thrilled to have it. It gives such a sense of the real history of the place.”

Primrose clapped her hands. “How exciting. If you can find it in the jumble - not that Fred doesn’t do his best to bring order into our storage area, the dear man - I’ll bring it up with the board. That is, if it’s museum property.”

“You’re a star.”

“Nonsense. It’ll be fun to see a historic business restored to its former glory, and about time Jolene can use her full potential. Isn’t that what you young people say these days?” She bustled off, leaving me and Adriana to rummage around.

The scent of beeswax mingled with the less pleasant aroma of camphor. I was so busy stifling a sneeze that I collided with the door of an armoire that had swung open.

“It’s here.” Adriana floated off the ground in her excitement. I rubbed my sore arm and turned around.

She stood next to a bunch of paintings stacked against the wall. I wouldn’t have recognized the half-hidden one, except for its size. I freed it. It had been painted directly onto wood. The colors had dulled, and a sticky layer covered the surface. But Matt would be able to tell me how to restore their former brilliance.

I wrestled it towards the door, for a proper look in daylight, when Primrose called out. “We need to leave. I have another appointment.”

With a last fond glance at the Charleston girl, Adriana trailed after me.

We didn't get far. Something was up at the library.

A small group of people lingered outside the building. I noticed Eileen, with her clipboard and a wicker basket with bread and milk. She gloated with malicious delight.

Trained in deduction as I’ve become, I assumed she hoped to hear Daphne had suffered a mishap, like a book on clean, righteous living hitting her on the head. Eileen wasn’t one to forgive and forget losing her argument with our head librarian.

Fred blocked the door.

I’d never seen him scowl before. My stomach clenched. What an earth could be wrong?

“I heard it’s a bomb,” one onlooker said.

“That’s silly. There’d be a SWAT team. I’ve seen it on tv,” another woman said.

Primrose glared at them. They moved back a little to let us pass. Even Eileen didn’t try to stop us - or follow. That was unexpected.

Inside, the library looked as it should. Bookcase after bookcase lined the room in an orderly fashion. The reading area was as neat as it could be. A filled book trolley next to the reception desk waited for Daphne or Fred’s attention.

Only Daphne showed signs of stress. She raked her hands through her hair. “You can lock up, Fred. I’ve asked Jolene to use the back door.”

Jolene? Adriana and I exchanged a puzzled glance until she wrinkled her nose. “What’s that stink?”

I sniffed the air. If I ignored Primrose’s perfume and the odor of old books, there seemed to be a whiff of - “Rotten eggs?” I felt lightheaded. “Isn’t that a sign of a gas leak? I don’t think you’d have called Jolene if someone left a bad sandwich.”

“You’re babbling,” my great-great-aunt said.

I shut up.

“The pipes are fine. Someone’s played a stupid prank. They clogged the accessible toilet and hid a stink bomb where somebody would step on it. Our best guess is hydrogen sulfide.”

“That’s a relief,” I said. “But why all this commotion, because some bored teenagers played a silly trick?”

Daphne pressed her lips together until they were a thin slash. "There's more."

I waited for her to continue. Adriana snapped her fingers at Daphne. "Spit it out."

Daphne pointed at a plastic bag with a used paperback - a book on Aleister Crowley, infamous for his dabbling in the black arts. “A preschooler found it in the kid’s, section- We’re lucky if news hasn’t spread yet all over the county that all hell is loose in Cobblewood Cove.”

“Why would you have a book on Crowley, if all people?” Primrose appeared aghast.

“Heck no, that’s not from our library.” Daphne set the record straight. "And that's not all. This also lurked among the picture books. The mother had a screaming fit." She took a box from her desk. Inside was an object wrapped in tissues. "Have a look."

The tissues fell open when I handled the object. Empty eye sockets confronted me. and I almost dropped it. "A skull?"

"A real one?" Adriana scanned it with intense curiosity.

"A very realistic fake. Turn it around."

I did. Faint runes added to the sinister aspect.

“Your practical joker appears to have a peculiar sense of humor, even if they’re at least vaguely well-educated. Not too many would make that connection between a Victorian Satan worshipper, a skull, and the smell of sulfur,” I said. "How many people even remember Crowley? Especially teenagers?"

“Unless they were inspired.”

Jolene’s voice gave me a start. I hadn’t noticed her arrival, or Primrose's, who must have decided her appointment could wait.

“Can you fix the restroom and get rid of the smell?” Daphne asked. “And have a look around to make sure there are no nasty surprises before I let the public in again?” She addressed Primrose who glared with disgust at the skull. “I hope it’s unnecessary, but could you act as our liaison with the mayor’s office and your fellow board members? We could do with some damage control.”

“Gladly, but I’m sure you have nothing to fear.” Primrose thumped the desk. “As for whoever had the sheer nerve of committing sacrilege in our library, they better watch out. I assume you’ve informed the police?”

“I’d rather not. There’s no actual damage, and I don’t want to draw any more attention to the situation. It could just have been a prank, or a dare, right before Halloween.”

Jolene hefted her tool bag. “I’m getting fed up with pranks.” She marched towards the restrooms.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.

Both Daphne and Jolene shook their heads.

“Let’s skedaddle,” Adriana said.

The small crowd had gone their merry ways when we came back onto Main Street. I breathed a sigh of relief. That meant Adriana and I could go home, too.

If Primrose handed over the painting, I needed to tackle the cleaning. The converted garage had a large enough work table, but I needed tools. That meant asking Matt and then ordering everything online.

Jolene’s family hardware store probably carried everything useful, but if I shopped at Nuts and Bolts, it might spoil the surprise.

We took a brief detour to drop into Miss Lulu’s hairdressing salon. She’d hate to be left out if there was any juicy gossip going on. She, Jolene, and Fred Ward had their fingers deftly on the pulse of Cobblewood Cove, at least as far as the adult population was concerned. Which meant I’d hear it if Daphne had a bigger stink than the one on her premises to worry about.

6.

The bells over Goldilocks’ door tinkled as I peered inside.

“Genie, how lovely.” Miss Lulu adjusted the drier over a foil-wrapped head. "I'll be with you in a twinkle."

I took a seat while she took care of her customer. Adriana sat beside me, twiddling her thumbs.

"Now, what can I do for you? I could squeeze you in for a trim and blow-dry."

My gaze fell upon her shelf with products. "I think I need a hair mask. My scalp is a little dry."

She parted my hair and inspected my head. "You've come to the right place. I've got just the thing to add a bit of moisture to your scalp."

She rearranged my hair and turned her attention to her products. I followed her. "What was the commotion earlier about?"

Miss Lulu's exes widened. “Haven't you heard about the incident?”

I pretended to be ignorant. “What incident?”

“The one at the greengrocer’s.” Her brows inched closer to her hairline. Lately, she’d been going back and forth between styles, in the search of a do that suited her sixty or so years and showcased her artistry.

Today, Goldilocks’ owner had opted for a tousled bob. She eyed my brown tresses with her habitual speculative glint, but I had the impression that her heart wasn’t in it.

“Tell me more,” I prompted her.

“You know how they have a few baskets with produce sitting outside? I swear, Cobblewood Cove’s the only place left where you can do this and not have some good-for-nothing swipe the lot.”

“Well?”

She leaned closer. “All the apples at the bottom were rotten! And there was a card with a weird symbol on it mixed up with them, and a palm-sized black skull with the sign of Satan on it. It scared the bejeezus out of my cousin Toots, who found it. She as good as fainted, she told me. Then she went and got herself some protection, and for me too.”

Another skull and satanists? The plot thickened. Too bad I had no idea what the plot really was.

"You should purchase a little something for your place, too. Single women are easy targets, Toots says." Miss Lulu's gaze traveled towards her glass cabinet that held hair clips and pins with and without rhinestones, velvet headbands, and sparkly costume jewelry. All items were part of a very limited edition, which added a touch of exclusivity to the selection.

Miss Lulu would be able to see the cabinet clearly. My view, alas, was blocked by the ethereal form of my dearest companion.

Adriana turned on her heel. “This is the cutest, Genie!”

I strolled over.

Miss Lulu opened one of the foil package on her customer’s head and inspected the strand inside.

“How much longer does it take?” the owner asked. “I promised my neighbor I wouldn’t be too long. Pa can be a handful to look after.” Her face twitched. “I shouldn’t have left him.”

“Don’t be silly. You need to get out of the house once in a while.” Miss Lulu stroked a heaving shoulder. “You’re a saint the way you take care of him in his dying days, Wendy DeKalb, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” She nudged me.

“Ain’t that the truth,” I confirmed. I had no clue who the woman was, but my words seemed to soothe her.

“These would be perfect for our apartment.” Adriana made space for me to admire a moonstone cat and a lump of raw rose quartz. She fluttered her lashes at me.

“Where did your cousin buy your beautiful gift?” I asked Miss Lulu.

I knew the answer before she opened her mouth. “Bell’s Book and Candles. Tell Samantha I sent you.” She peered at another strand of hair and I headed for the exit.

Outside the Darling villa, Adriana made a beeline for my car.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

She cocked her head to one side. “It’s a sign. If you want me to fix your energy flow …”

“My flow is fine.”

“And save your relationship, before we lose Matt, we have to hurry.”

“What we need to do is deliver our gelato and keep our word to Cleo.” Adriana waved my objection aside. “Cleo understands. She totally agrees with me. And we can drop the ice-cream off on the way.”

***

Cold sweat formed in my armpits as we pulled up outside Samantha’s store. I had to trust Adriana’s instincts. “You’ll notice if something is off, right?”

She stared at me with genuine puzzlement. “What are you talking about?”

There was no way to sugarcoat it. “What if there’s something inside that store that might hurt you? Like when I chipped the brick, and you went all - fuzzy? Aren’t spiritual forces supposed to be strongest at Halloween? It’s less than a week away.”

Did she blanch? It was hard to tell if her natural glow had dimmed for an instant.

“Applesauce,” she said. “It’s sweet of you to worry, but believe me, I’m not going anywhere, at least not without a fight.” She feigned an uppercut. Still, her voice sounded less sure than her usual exuberant self.

“Promise me we’ll leave if you experience the slightest tingle.”

“I won’t, and I will.”

I felt her touch, as light as the touch of a butterfly, on my hand. The hard knot in my stomach unraveled. If I could literally feel her, she was as strong as a ghost could be.

I was being silly. If Halloween had any impact on my great-great-aunt, it would happen anywhere, Bell’s Books and Candles or not.

Samantha had eschewed a tinkling mystical chime above the door and instead opted for a mundane bell. She stood behind the counter, wrapping a parcel for a senior citizen.

Adriana twirled so fast, watching her made me dizzy. “I can sense …”

I clapped my hand over my mouth. No! I couldn’t let anything happen to her. She deserved a long, happy afterlife.

She stopped her twirl and continued her sentence. “… you opening your wallet.” She giggled.

I glared at her.

“I couldn’t resist.” Her downcast eyes could have fooled anyone into thinking she was contrite. Anyone but me. “This shelf is almost bare, Genie. We need to snap up our crystals before they’re gone, too.”

She was right. While the bookshelf with all kinds of esoteric literature showed barely any gaps, and herbal teas and lotions were also available in a great selection, stones and jewelry were sparse. A milky blue crystal skull the size of my palm drew my attention. I checked it for runes or occult symbols but it was free of marks. Only a discreet sign mentioned its use in scrying and healing. If this was occult, at least it leaned towards white magic.

The customer left and Samantha turned her attention towards me. “Just the person I wanted to see.”

“Me?”

“I was going to call on you before, but I was told you’d be busy with helping Jolene.” Her smile crinkled her eyes.

I’d expected her to wear flowing clothes, or a kaftan. Instead, she wore tailored pants and a cable-knit sweater I wouldn’t mind owning.

I gave her a shrug that said that maybe I was busy, and maybe I wasn’t. “What did you want to see me for?”

“Apart from raving over your gelato? I’ve had to become really strict with myself, not to have it every day.”

“That’s our kind of gal,” Adriana said. “She’s got good taste.”

“It’s about your other business. I was wondering if you’re interested in creating rings and pendants for my customers.”

“Like, occult stuff?” I was reconsidering my good opinion of her.

“More like beautiful jewelry using stones and crystals. I don’t know if you’ve studied gemology, but there are well-established connections between certain stones and our well-being.” She shot me a curious glance. “I don’t remember Cobblewood Cove as this interested in the esoteric arts, but whatever is going on, it’s bringing in lots of customers who want to buy protective charms. I had ten crystal skulls and now I've only got one in stock.”

“You don’t believe in witchcraft or the spirit world?” Didn’t she imply the opposite a few moments ago?

“I believe that there’s a lot out there, and that whatever helps us be more attuned to nature and our better selves is all for the good. And no, I’m not a crackpot, nor do I dabble in black magic, or whatever people are afraid of. I’m a businesswoman with an open mind, not a wicked witch.”

“She’s got a rose quartz heart left. We need that. I can’t see black tourmaline and selenite, but several of the pictures in my magazine are a little obscure,” Adriana said.

I detected a hint of accusation in Adriana’s tone. Clearly, more books with literally crystal-clear pictures were in order.

My great-great-aunt stomped her foot. “Aren’t you going to ask Samantha for them?”

I did.

She perused her more than half empty shelves, shook her head, and peered into a drawer. “Sorry. I didn’t expect this much of a sudden demand. I can add them to my order, if you can wait a day or two.”

Adriana gave me a thumbs up.

“I’d appreciate that. Now, about your proposition—“

Chimes interrupted me. Another horde of customers had arrived. “Seven o’clock, at Vine and Vinyl? It's their long evening,” I suggested before various demands swamped Samantha.

“Works for me. I’m out like a light at ten, after a mug of my sleep tea. At seven, I’m sharp as a tack.”

“The heart,” Adriana hissed.

I grabbed it a split second before another customer could. The woman rewarded me with a venomous glare.

“Boo.” Adriana shook her hands at the customer and delivered a well-aimed cold spell. My great-great-aunt winked at me as I paid. “Serves that dame right. She can always buy more protective stuff.”

Considering the woman shivered and headed straight for the book section where she pulled out a Wiccan manual, I agreed. Samantha’s business seemed to take off.

Adriana danced out of, or rather through, the door.

I’d have preferred if she’d waited for me to open it, but it was good to see her in top form after an encounter with whatever spiritual force lurked within the store. That was probably the point she was making here.

I flipped the quartz heart in my hand.

“Don’t chip it,” Adriana said. “We have to get the alignment perfect before Matt returns.”

We both let our gaze wander towards Jolene’s place, with its still boarded-up window.

“Maybe we should add to our order with Samantha tonight.”

“Maybe.” I didn’t dream of correcting her pronoun use. For better or worse, we were a team.

Back home, the junior member of said team (in my point of view, because Adriana was eternally 21 years old) stopped bossing me around with barely enough leeway to brush my hair and put on lipstick. Since our return, she’d supervised my making the next gelato batch and then decided we needed a floor plan for the apartment.

I’d spent ages crawling on my knees to measure every single piece of furniture which then needed transferring onto paper, scaled down to exact specifications.

Meanwhile, Adriana and Cleo had lounged on the daybed, a supercilious look on their faces.

The only thing that had cheered me up was discovering an earring under the sofa, covered in dust. I hadn’t missed it yet, though I would have one day. It was my first Egyptian revival piece.

Since I’d used lapis lazuli to create the Eye of Horus, it might be just what Samantha was after.

The Eye supposedly offered protection from bad luck and warded off evil. In my opinion, it also was gorgeous.

***

Jolene waited as I breezed into Vine and Vinyl.

My great-great-aunt chuckled at my display of confidence. “See how you swagger? The crystal’s already working.” She draped herself against the grand piano.

Tonight, there was no live music, and the place would close in an hour. Wine, pizza and cold platters were still available.

Felix fussed around with the records he sold as his chief business.

I fluttered my fingers at him.

He waved back distractedly.

“Is he still undecided if he should sign up with you?” I asked Jolene.

She pulled a face. “I’m getting really weird vibes.”

“It can’t be that your speakeasy would directly compete with this,” I said. “He made it clear enough that this was a stop-gap.”

Even with the partition opened to Foodstock next door, which Felix’s sister ran, the room felt crammed if there were more than four tables added to the layout. At Jolene’s, Felix could wow a real crowd with his substantial talents on the piano.

Eileen and two of her cronies marched past us. Their heads stuck out like turtles as they did their best to overlook our existence.

Adriana skipped after them.

I grinned to myself. If she gave them her version of the cold shoulder, they’d asked for it.

Eileen tapped Felix on the shoulder. He spun around, cranking up the Glenn Miller music he’d just switched on.

He dimmed it to a volume that allowed conversation without shouting.

Adriana hollered nevertheless. “The poor sweetheart is all twitchy. I’ll better stick around.”

“Genie?” Jolene frowned at me. “Have you heard a single word I said?”

“Sorry. Say again?”

“Why did you ask me to come here? Wouldn’t your apartment be easier for business discussions?”

I’d told Jolene about Samantha’s proposal because I trusted her judgment.

As nice as the owner of Bell’s Book and Candles appeared to be, I couldn’t overlook one fact. The recent upsets in town had all been pretty harmless, and they’d all benefitted her financially.

7.

I double-checked my watch as Eileen finally backed off Felix. One minute to seven. I wasn’t a stickler for punctuality, except in business affairs.

Felix used his chance to flee at high speed to Foodstock, where he could at least put the bar counter between himself and the Cobblewood Cove Citizens’ Charter, or crazy coven, as Jolene and I had dubbed them.

In a neat crocodile, they marched towards the exit. Only Samantha’s appearance side-lined them. They gave her as wide a berth as possible with the little space on offer.

Jolene whistled through her teeth. “Did they just give her the stink-eye?”

“Yes, siree.” Adriana, who’d left Felix to his own devices, laughed. “This town sure is getting crazier and crazier.”

Samantha’s only reaction to the treatment was a quirk of her eyebrows before she joined us at our table.

“Now that’s class,” Adriana said.

“Is wine okay? I wish I could offer you a stiff drink, but this is the strongest the menu offers on a weekday.” The corners of Jolene’s mouth turned up. “Unless Eileen drives everyone so mad, we all need a couple of shots to recover.”

“What are you having?” Samantha asked me.

“Soda. I don’t mix drinks and driving.” I also tried to keep Adriana away from alcohol if possible, at least when I needed to focus on other things than keeping her in check. Sniffing booze made her very happy and also very tipsy.

My great-great-aunt pouted. Too bad for her, because I wasn’t going to give in.

“Coffee would be great,” Samantha said to the server, who’d timed her appearance perfectly.

Adriana perked up.

“Cappuccino for me,” I added. My companion loved the smell and the milk foam.

I waited until we’d all been served. “You said you have a proposal for me.”

Samantha pulled out a jewelry box with crystals and semi-precious stones. “These all hold special powers. You can easily get mass-produced trinkets online. But I intend to cater to the more discerning customer who wants the real deal. Your custom-made pieces could be the answer.”

I weighed a small turquoise in my hand. There were also opals, jade, and apatite, all favorites of mine.

A surge of inspiration washed over me. Some of these stones cried out to become pendants or rings. Others begged to be part of a bracelet or earrings.

I fished my Eye of Horus earring out of my pocket. “Like this kind of thing?”

Samantha’s eyes sparkled as she touched it. “Exactly. It’s the spiritual meaning behind the design as much as the power of the stones. I’d love to offer you a commission. Nothing major, at least not yet, but maybe over time. . .”

My heart beat faster. It had been a while since I last came up with the intricate designs I’d loved creating. I’d been too busy with gelato-making, crime-solving, and entertaining my ethereal companion.

“Do you believe in the power of stones?” Jolene asked.

“Of course we do.” Adriana played with her bracelet.

I nodded without elaborating. After all, I’d seen how much strength her old jewelry gave my great-great-aunt whenever she put it on. Or when she wore the spectral equivalent.

That’s why I half feared finding the missing piece - a necklace she’d constantly worn until the day that signaled her end in mortal form.

I was sure it had something to do with her death under suspicious circumstances. Suspicious at least to me and her, with the benefit of hindsight.

Whoever had taken it might have caused her demise. If I could locate it, it might solve the mystery of her passing, and of her return as a ghost earlier this year.

Figuring out what really happened might also be the one thing she needed to cross over to whatever realm awaited. Which meant I’d lose her.

With an effort, I gathered my train of thought. “I could draw up a few sketches.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Samantha said. “Especially if you could use the angelite.”

I drew a blank when I tried to remember anything about that particular gem.

“It helps the communication with spirit guides and angels,” she said. “A customer has asked me for it.”

She needn’t say more. I’d spotted one of Eileen’s friends hanging back. She always looked ill at ease and a little out of place, as if she’d been caught up in a wave and had no idea how to free herself. Only now, she’d done it. She peered over her shoulder in a furtive movement.

Samantha gave the woman an encouraging wave.

“That’s Rose Dingell,” Jolene told me. “Widowed last year, and she lost her only daughter not long before that.”

Rose devoured the gemstones with her eyes. I wasn’t sure she’d even registered Jolene and me. “She came to me in my dreams last night, Samantha. I could see her clear as daylight. It lasted only a few seconds, but if we use something stronger to build a bridge...” Her voice petered off.

Jolene kicked me under the table.

I signaled I got it. There was no way I’d go into business with Samantha if she used the grief of another person to pad her bottom line.

Samantha covered Rose’s hand with hers. “Isn’t dreaming of your daughter enough?”

“I read there are stones that could help me. I’ve got some money.” Rose fumbled in her pocket.

Samantha stopped her. “I’ll do what I can, and it won’t cost you much. Only promise me you’ll take it easy. Light your candles. Meditate. Please?”

“I’ll try.” Rose wiped away a tear and crept away.

“Now you see why I need you,” Samantha said. “She’s so desperate to see her daughter that she’d be easy prey for any fake spiritualist.”

“So you wouldn’t dream of taking advantage?” Jolene asked.

Felix rang a bell. “Closing time, folks. Drink up and go home.”

We grabbed our coats.

Samantha said, “I swear to you I’m not here to harm anyone or to fleece them. Cobblewood Cove is my home. All I want is to help people find a balance between mind and body.”

“I think she’s on the level,” Adriana said.

I thought so too. “Give me the piece of angelite and I’ll have something for you in a couple of days.” It never hurt to remind potential customers that anything from Darling Designs was a work of art that took its time.

“Don’t forget our shopping list,” Adriana said.

Outside, I handed it to Samantha.

She scanned it. “Interesting selection. Shouldn’t be too hard to order for you.”

“How did you become interested in crystals and such?” Jolene asked. “I saw your high school yearbook. Weren’t you voted, Most likely to be the next Ruth Bader Ginsburg?”

“Life happens.” Samantha drew her coat collar up. “I’ve been saved by my inner voice twice when it warned me away from a trip and a business deal. Both went sour.” With that, she turned on her heels and strode off.

“A guardian angel,” Adriana whispered with raw emotion in her voice. “That’s me to a tee.”

I touched her hand, for a fleeting second feeling flesh and blood, however impossible that sounded. A warm feeling surged through my veins.

Jolene stomped her feet. “Let’s get out of the cold.”

We had one more stop scheduled. A couple of miles from the city center, towards the cliffs and the cove, we found Daphne stocking a bookcase in the reception area of what was soon to be a free animal clinic.

Grayson Butler, Pierre’s nephew and lately Daphne’s significant other, had eschewed the family tradition of cooking for veterinary medicine. The sale of Butler’s Pantry paid for this building set on two acres.

An almost finished annex held a kennel and cattery, and a stable was to follow.

Inside, a space heater ran. Daphne’s dog slept in his basket.

Adriana bent over him and stroked his soft fur. He stirred and gave a blissful snuffle.

I perused the literature she’d provided. Lots of books on animal welfare, children’s books, and guides to healthy cooking and thrifty living.

“I figured if people need a free clinic, they’ll also struggle at home,” Daphne said. “I’ll also put up posters for the library.” She looked around.

A reception desk with deep scars held Jolene’s attention. “I’ll come and fix this when I’ve got a few hours,” she said.

“You have enough on your plate.” From a side room, Daphne dragged out folding chairs that formed the rest of the furniture.

“We’re not staying,” Jolene said. “I only wanted to let you know that I’ve decided on Toast of the Town. Any marketing idea you come up with is appreciated.”

***

“Finally alone.” Adriana flung herself onto the daybed, where Cleo rested.

For the briefest of moments, I saw her arm melt into the orange fur. In the beginning, those occasions had made me queasy. Now, my stomach and nerves had grown accustomed to the occasional ghost melt. Since Adriana hadn’t arrived complete with manual, I’d been forced to come up with my own terminology.

What made me raise my eyebrows was her exclamation. My great-great-aunt rarely declared a wish for solitude. After her near-century of being asleep, she’d thrown herself into squeezing in every bit of entertainment out of her afterlife, the more exciting the better.

I gave her a quick once-over. Her hair gleamed golden, her blue eyes sparkled, and her complexion would have photoshopped influencers eat their heart out. In short, everything was normal.

“We need to plan, and we can’t do that when every Tom, Dick, and Harry is underfoot.” Cleo woke up and meowed for good measure.

I sighed. Communication in public tended to be a little tricky.

“I’ll dictate. Get your stenography pad and pencil ready,” she ordered. Then she paused. “After you’ve given Cleo her treats.”

Two pairs of eyes watched my every movement as I followed instructions.

Cleo weaved around my legs before she headed for her treat bowl. She purred and chirruped.

Adriana giggled. She rested her fingertips on my wrist. Instantly, Cleo’s purrs became words in my head.

“She’s doing well in her training. Maybe Genie’ll soon be ready for showing in a competition.”

I shook my head. I must have mis-heard. Showing me made no sense, and so far, the feline commentary had always been sensible. Flattering, to my regret, no, not in all cases. Reasonable, on the other hand, yes.

Adriana broke off the contact, and the words became cat noises again. “What was she saying?” I asked my resident pet-whisperer.

She pretended to flick something off her shoulder strap. “It’s a little thing they’re having. Whoever has the best-trained human of the week wins bragging rights and is the big banana of the neighborhood.”

“But Cleo doesn’t roam the streets,” I said. “How could she take part?” I decided they were having me on. No way was I going to add trained monkey to my growing list of additional job descriptions that had started with ghost sitter.

“News travels, and every single dog and cat in the whole county knows who you belong to.”

Cleo interrupted her feast long enough to gaze at me and swish her tail.

Adriana snapped her fingers. “Now, are you ready to write?

This joint is the Toast of the Town.

Its parties will take every crown.

The music is hip to the jive

This place for sure ain’t a dive.

Come visit and your mind will be blown.”

As a dutiful great-great-niece, I wrote down Adriana’s limerick. It might not have passed muster compared to her literary role model, Dorothy Parker, but I gave her full marks of combining the slang from her era with more modern stuff she’d learned lately.

“It would make a nice jingle if Felix can put it to music,” she said.

“I’ll suggest it to Jolene.” I placed the angelite on the table. My phone had a nifty app that allowed me to scan it. Once I had the exact measurements, I could check its hardness on the Mohs' scala and come up with a design.

“It’s beautiful.” Adriana admired the glacial blue stone with its center flecked with white. “If you look right at it, it feels like a warm hug.”

“That’s one of its healing properties.” I read a description on a crystal-centric website. “Angelite is meant to soothe you and ease communication with spirits and angels.”

“With Rose’s daughter?”

“Apparently.”

“Wow.”

“Unfortunately it’s also pretty fragile.”

“You could put it in a locket. On one side you’d have the angelite, on the other, a picture of the girl.”

I envisioned Rose, with her pinched, withdrawn look and her hands constantly worrying each other. A locket that she could carry over her heart and clasp when she needed comfort might work for her.

I checked the scan. I could carve the angelite into the shape of a heart and create a slightly larger cast for the locket. Silver would be ideal, with maybe a few symbols associated with eternal love and healing adorning the face. I wished I knew more about the woman, I thought as I sketched a few ideas. She’d been so caught up in her heartbreak I couldn't imagine her in happier times.

One perk of a small town with a strong sense of community and tradition like Cobblewood Cove was that there’d always be people who could tell you close to everything about their neighbors. All I had to do was tap the right source.

I left Adriana right after breakfast. She wanted to study the layout of our rooms and her Feng Shui charts, to steer my love life into calm, untroubled waters.

Secretly, I doubted a few candles and crystals and rearranged furniture would make the difference between Matt believing me or Matt running for the hills once I let the ghost out of the astral plane, metaphorically speaking. Yet it couldn’t hurt to keep Adriana busy.

Miss Lulu, on the other hand, was enjoying a lull before a hard day’s cutting, styling, and sharing news at Goldilocks. “I went to see Samantha, like you suggested,” I said.

A broad smile rewarded me. “That young woman’s a godsend, I’m telling you. I lit one of her candles last night, just before my prayers, and today, my bad knee is right as rain. Not a twinge all morning.”

“She asked me to do a bit of work for her, starting with a piece of jewelry for Rose Dingell. I really want to make it as perfect as I can for her, except I can’t tell what she’s like.”

Miss Lulu flopped onto the bench. “That’s a sad story alright. Such a sweet woman, too.”

“I heard she lost her husband and her daughter.”

“She sure did, all in less than a year. It wiped her out financially on top of everything, paying for his hospital bills and the care. She’s now working as a cleaner at the nursing home.”

“It must have been awful to lose both.”

“It knocked the stuffing out of her. That girl of hers, why, she was just the sweetest soul. As for the husband, most marriages hit a rough patch here and there. The Dingells, the Dooleys, and they always sort things out without going all crazy like that Eileen Watkins.” Miss Lulu pursed her lips.

“What kind of person was Rose before?”

“Quiet, but happy enough. She doted on her daughter. Roxie, that was her name. She had such a bright future ahead as a kindergarten teacher. She loved kiddies.” Miss Lulu’s mouth drooped.

“What happened?”

“A skiing accident. I don’t think Rose ever smiled again, even before the doctors told her about her husband dying of cancer.”

“She doesn’t sound like the sort of person who’d join Eileen’s crusade.”

“Oh, honey, that poor woman is plain lonely. Now, if she had something to cheer her up or give her a new interest, it’d do her a world of good.” Miss Lulu heaved herself off the chairs. “There’s my next client coming.”

“One second.” I produced my finished sketch of a locket with intertwined grapevines and ivy. I didn’t want to go too heavy on the symbolism. Vines stood for love, death, and resilience, which should be enough.

“It’s real pretty. Maybe you could make me one as well. Something that brings me luck, and a nice gentleman friend.”

I chuckled as I left. If Miss Lulu liked my work, maybe the gem part in Gem and Gelato had a future after all.

Outside, a few fluffy clouds sailed across the azure sky. All my worries melted away. A few pranks and a couple of misguided women were nothing to worry about.

Did I mention that I definitely don’t possess any special gifts, least of all premonition?

8.

I was still setting out my craft tools to carve the angelite heart when the next blow fell.

Police officer Tilda Ramos knocked on the door of my converted garage studio. She peered through the window.

“She’s in a real tizzy.” Adriana glanced at Tilda and dangled her legs. She’d decided to supervise me from a swing seat fixed to the ceiling.

Without me pushing her, she couldn’t really set in motion, but she liked to relax in it. Also, it resembled a vintage magazine cover with a movie star in a similar setting.

“What can I do for you?” I asked Tilda, who stalked inside.

My heart sank. This wasn’t the upbeat woman I knew. Something terrible must have happened.

“The nursery school teacher found this in one of your ice-cream tubs.” Tilda didn’t waste her breath with niceties. She held up a plastic evidence bag. Inside was a wet tarot card, half-dissolved in chocolate and pomegranate gelato.

“The Hanged Man?”

“I think it’s a warning. You need to run me through your entire process. Could anyone have tampered with your tubs on your end?”

“I don’t see how.” I showed her my giant freezer with the 2-gallon steel containers I used. “Everything’s triple-locked and secured. Ask Jolene about the system she set me up with. Anyway, in the mornings I take my gelato to the Cocoa Cabana where the small tubs are kept. I have a few regulars who buy them.” I looked again at the tarot card. “The likeliest place for anyone to sneak this thing inside is there, but I don’t see how.”

“Do the containers get filled upon ordering, in plain sight?”

“It depends. If there’s a standing order or someone calls, it’s easier to have the tubs ready.”

“Do you have many standing orders?”

“She’s very upset about a silly joke,” Adriana said.

I took out my order book. “A few. The nursing home, Jolene for the builders at Butler’s Pantry, and half a dozen families for the weekends.”

“Jolene? Do you think she could have been the target? I've had half a dozen complaints about sin taking over since she decided to reopen the old bar.” Tilda blew out her cheeks. “Although it wouldn’t explain how the card ended up in the kindergarten kitchen.”

“They must have mixed up the tubs,” Adriana said.

I’d had the same idea. “They were a gift from me, to Missy, for her help. It would be an easy mistake to pick the wrong order. But why would anyone stick this stupid card into Jolene’s gelato?”

“To send a message. My gut tells me there’s real trouble brewing.”

“Horsefeathers,” Adriana said.

I grinned. Usually “applesauce,” was her preferred term to demonstrate her disbelief. Horsefeathers was one up from that. “I can’t say I get all that belly-aching,” I said. “Eileen and her crazy coven act as if Jolene plans to turn Cobblewood Cove into a modern Sodom and Gomorrha.”

“That’s exactly it. There are rumors she’ll bring back the Roaring Twenties for real, with exotic dancers, drink and drugs.” Tilda whipped out her phone and brought up a screenshot. Josephine Baker, scantily clad and snake-hipped, on a stage. A headline screamed a warning. “Neighbors, don’t let this happen in our town.”

Adriana jumped off her swing. “I’d love to see Josephine.”

So did I, only it wasn’t going to happen.

“That’s insane and so is Eileen if she believes any of this. Jolene will tell you that there won’t be pole dancers, lap dances, or anything of that sort. The high school prom will be a lot more debauched than the Toast of the Town.”

For a heartbeat, Officer Ramos perked up. “Cute name.”

“My idea.” Adriana indulged in a smug smile.

I flicked my fingers at the evidence bag. “Why does this practical joke upset you so much?”

“If this continues, and leads back to Jolene, or if the pressure campaign against the speakeasy increases, she could have her permit to run a bar revoked."

"How's that possible? She's the victim."

"It's bad publicity, and she's ruffling feathers, if she's aware of it or not. There’s a lot of pressure behind the scenes, including on Hank and me to solve the problems. I’m up for a tiny promotion, Genie, and I really need the pay rise. You try raising a kid on my salary.”

“That’s why she’s here. She wants our help.” Adriana broke into a time step.

“I don’t see how all the incidents could be linked to Jolene,” I said. “A stink bomb, fake skulls, a disturbing book and rotten apples don’t scream, stop the speakeasy to me. They seem more pointed at Samantha's shop.”

“Not to you, maybe. But to a lot of worried people who think our town is going to hell in a hand basket ever since Jolene got the green light for her project and the Citizens' Charter formed. It’s silly, but I feel it in my bones that this is only the beginning.” Her eyes pleaded with me.

“You mean, unless we stop it?”

“You’ve done it before. You’re a natural investigator .”

“Say no more. The Darling Detectives are on the case.” Adriana raised her finger for a pinkie swear.

Great. She’d never let it go now, and I did not know where to start.

Tilda picked up the angelite. “Pretty.”

“Give her the piece you broke off,” Adriana said. “It’ll protect her.”

I picked up the sliver she meant. Because the stone was so soft and fragile, I’d tested it to see if it could withstand carving it all. I pressed it into Tilda’s hand. “Don’t let it get wet.”

“Or feed it after midnight?”

I must have looked blank because she added, “Gremlins? The movie? I watched a rerun with my kid.”

It was nice to see her lighten up a little. Maybe a portion of gelato would improve her mood even further. I had a small container with Daredevil’s Delight, our award-winning flavor named in honor of Adriana’s mother Rosalind. I kept it for personal consumption, or to treat unexpected visitors.

“Are going to meet up with Hank?” I asked as I scooped the creamy gelato into a tub - one without added tarot card. Officer Newby had a sweet tooth, so he’d need an extra large helping.

“He’s probably already waiting for me.”

I wrote a label for the tub.

“Thanks, Genie. Maybe you could come up with a flavor just for me and my partner. Police Persons’ Plight sounds about right.”

“We could do that.”

Adriana licked her lips, as if tasting the ice-cream already. “A rich coffee base, with a few nuts and a dash of spice?”

I gave her a thumbs-up behind my back while I ushered Tilda out.

Adriana reached for my coat. She took a deep breath, or at least the spectral equivalent. For an instant I toyed with the possibility of letting her try to move the garment, to show her I could not be rushed around or bossed about.

But who was I kidding? Apart from the fact that I knew perfectly well that Adriana had to use up all her strength to do so much as lift the heavy garment a hair’s breadth, I was as curious as she about what on earth was going on.

I didn’t think interviewing the staff at the Cocoa Cabana would unearth new information. Tilda Ramos was competent enough, and she’d shared what she’d gleaned.

The kindergarten might be different. Especially if I came bearing gifts. A gallon of ice-cream should go a long way to make up for their ruined treat. Not chocolate and pomegranate, though. After our usual drop-off for the Gem and Gelato counter, we headed to Tiny Tots.

A noisy game involving clapping and stomping went on in the front room. The kitchen and staff car park were at the back. One of the teachers stood in the shelter of the tricycle shed. She puffed on a cigarette, which she hid behind her back when she saw me.

I waved it off. “Don’t mind me.”

She took a deep drag. “I’m trying to quit, but it’s hard.”

“I’m addicted to chocolate.” I peered at her name tag. “Sylvia.”

“And ice-cream?”

It appeared she’d recognized me. “That too. I thought you might appreciate a batch without foreign objects.” I opened the trunk.

Sylvia stubbed out her cigarette and wrapped the butt in a tissue before she binned it. “The kids will love it, and so will we.”

“Do you have any idea what happened with, you know, the earlier gelato?”

“Don’t worry, nobody thinks you’ve got anything to do with this.” She lowered her voice. “Our manager swears it’s a sign, what with Halloween coming up and everything.”

“A sign? Of what?”

Sylvia giggled. “I’m not buying it either. If you ask me -“

“Which we just did, thank you very much,” Adriana muttered.

“I think it was meant to freak out Danny. The assistant who’s on kitchen duty? He dumped his girlfriend and that girl’s really into yoga and Wicca and stuff. You should have seen him when he found the card. He went all green and sweaty.” She cackled. “Good on her, I say. Not that he’s a prince, which he ain’t, but he broke off with her the day before her birthday.”

I agreed. A jilted girlfriend made a lot more sense than sinister forces targeting Jolene. “Would the girl have had access to your kitchen?”

“It’s not that difficult to sneak in when the kids are dropped off in the morning.” She hefted the container. “I’ll bring it back once it’s empty.”

“I appreciate that. Do you remember the girlfriend’s name?”

“You could ask Eileen Watkins. The kid works for her husband.”

Adriana tapped her nose. “The plot thickens.”

It did indeed. Eileen’s name had popped up too often to be a coincidence. As much as I dreaded it, I might have to tangle with the leader of the Cobblewood Cove Citizens’ Charter.

9.

When we reached the hardware store, Jolene loaded supplies into the official Nuts and Bolts minivan.

“Let’s stop,” Adriana said.

“I was just going to.”

Jolene stacked a dozen boxes with her usual care, but the force she used seemed a bit overboard.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I had an official letter of complaint. I’ve been told that - quote - the young son of a worried citizen wheeled his bicycle past my business premises and punctured a tire on glass shards. Considering that said business is not yet open to the public and will serve intoxicating beverages, said citizen is afraid there are more hazards to the public safety ahead. End of quote.”

My mouth fell open. “What a piece of nonsense.”

“You can say that again. Honestly, Genie, I’m starting to wonder if I should forget this whole idea and stick to being a handywoman. It’s so much hassle, with every step of the way.”

“Oh, no!” Adriana stemmed her hands on her hips. “We will not be played for suckers. This town needs a swell joint, and we’ll see to it that everything’s going to be fine. Right, Genie?”

“No person in their right mind will take this complaint seriously,” I said to Jolene. “What you need is a break, and a girls’ night in. My place, dinner time.”

If my great-great-aunt and I could solve the mystery of the Hanging Man card by then, it might cheer her up. If not, we could at least get her to let her hair down. Even if it included letting Adriana loose on the booze.

I caught up with Eileen only a few hundred yards away.

Even the dogs on the green had backed off, to avoid getting too close, Adriana told me. I believed her and not only because I’d seen her whisper into a few furry ears.

Eileen’s conversation partner had a haunted expression. For him, though, running wasn’t an option.

For police officer Hank Newby, to protect and to serve meant he also was at the mercy of the taxpayers, however crazy they acted.

I plastered on a big old smile. “Hi, there. Exactly the person I wanted to see.”

Eileen paused her diatribe. “What a surprise.”

Adriana blew out her breath in little puffs. Each hit Eileen like an icy blast. She hunched her shoulders.

As much as I enjoyed watching her squirm, I signaled my great-great-aunt to stop.

Hank used the opportunity to sneak away.

I took Eileen by the elbow and steered her towards the library. If my friendly chat went off the rails, I preferred to have friends by my side, and books made handy weapons. “I’ve been thinking about your petition,” I said as I led her past a surprised Fred, towards the reading corner.

A fanatic gleam came into Eileen’s eyes. “You’ve seen the light.”

“Well, let’s say I might.” I maneuvered her into the chair, backing the wall. Placement mattered, should I feel like fleeing. “I feel like there’s a lot going on that I haven’t quite figured out yet. Why is it worse if Jolene reopens the old bar? There’s several places in town that serve alcohol, with a lot less refinement that her establishment will offer. Nobody’s protesting them, including the Truck Stop.”

Said dive would have been first on my list if I’d been a card-carrying member of the moral zealot brigade. Beer by the gallon and rooms by the hour offered most of the entertainment, from what I’d heard.

Eileen snarled, “They don’t cater to our kind of people. And they also know better than to hire harlots to seduce righteous folk into the arms of Satan.”

Adriana whistled through her teeth. “She must be off her rockers.”

That statement wasn’t charitable, but accurate. I half expected to see white spittle form in the corners of Eileen’s mouth. Instead, she could have passed for your average mild-mannered middle-class woman.

I gave her a pitying look.

“You don’t believe me? See for yourself.” With her fingertips, she took a folded flyer out of her handbag. She shuddered and shook it open to reveal Josephine Baker once more.

“What on earth makes you believe Jolene would hire burlesque dancers and singers? Apart from considering how much it would cost to sign a star?”

“Everybody knows that’s what she plans.”

“Well, I don’t, for one.”

Eileen furrowed her brows. “You’re her friend, you’d say anything.”

I counted to ten before I spoke in a calm voice that took a lot of effort. “Have you asked Jolene? Where did you get your information?”

"A friend sent me an ad Jolene is going to put everywhere."

"An ad?"

"Showing more bare flesh than a Las Vegas stripper."

"Ridiculous. Who's that friend?"

She flapped her lips but didn’t answer.

“By the way, who’s that young girl working for your husband?”

A shutter came down in her face. “Are you going to join our good fight, or are you here to waste my time?” She snapped her handbag shut and stormed off.

Fred, who’d quietly tidied up around us, beckoned me. I doubted she’d even noticed him.

“Like a Rottweiler with a bone, that one. Likes to think she’s calling the shots, here, and behind the scenes of the council,” he said.

“Tell him to spill,” Adriana demanded. I did.

Fred came from a long line of Cobblewood Cove mayors. If anyone had insights into which closet held skeletons and who could rattle them, it was he and the Schuyler sisters. A serene smile flitted over his chubby face. “A little bird told me she wanted to get her husband’s assistant fired because the young lady has a few tattoos and is a bad influence.”

“That figures.”

“Except it’s a lie. She can’t stand young Neeta because Eileen’s son is smitten with her, and the young lady won’t be bossed around.”

“Hold your horses. That doesn’t make sense.” Adriana wrinkled her forehead.

She was right. “I heard this Neeta was crushed when her boyfriend dumped her.”

“What boyfriend?” Now Fred seemed puzzled.

“Danny, from Tiny Tots?”

“Neeta?”

“Unless there’s another girl working for Eileen’s husband, who likes yoga and Wicca?”

“That’s her, alright.” We both scratched our heads.

“I believe Fred’s version,” Adriana said. “I can see Eileen spoiling a kiddie treat to smear a girl’s reputation in her son's eyes. It's stupid enough for her. Unless Sylvia’s right and Neeta wanted to send her former beau a message. If she went out with this Danny fella at all.”

A man knocked on a bookshelf. “Excuse me, Fred?” Adriana and I stole away.

I had a few hours on my hands before Jolene would drop by. Operation mood lift needed to be put into action. So, after I’d created a mold for the locket and shaped the angelite into an irregular heart, I - or rather Adriana - sacrificed a vintage blackboard I’d found on a flea market.

It featured a geometrical art déco pattern in flaking gold paint as a stylized frame. We’d planned to hang it in our living room, with the names of our gelato flavors written in italics.

Now, it would hopefully be just the thing to hang on the wall of the Toast of the Town.

For good measure, I inscribed it with Adriana’s favorite cocktails. To add the accurate period flair, we used the code words she remembered as well.

Thus, future customers could order coffee with cream and be sure they’d receive a White Lady. For a Sidecar, they’d ask for coffee with milk. Coffee with cream and one sugar meant a Bee’s Knees. A Gin Rickey was disguised as tea.

I used colored chalk to write in a swirly font on the blackboard, so it was easy to wipe off since this was just meant as a demonstration.

Adriana applauded my efforts. “Top notch.”

I curtsied.

Cleo was less enchanted. She’d sniffed the blackboard once I’d brought it upstairs, only to have the chalk dust tickle her nose. She broke into a fit of sneezing that made her and me jump.

“Poor kitty,” Adriana said.

“I hope she’s not allergic. Otherwise, it’s a trip to the vet.”

The sneezing stopped, and Cleo stretched, as if to prove just how fine she was. She jumped onto the table, where she took a swipe at the treat jar I kept for her. “Later,” I promised. “Once our guests are here.”

I’d called Daphne to tell her about operation mood lift and invite her over. Since she’d bring her dog, both animals could have a few yummy things. They were friendly enough, but a little bribery never hurt.

As I’d suspected, Jolene arrived still down in the dumps. “Whoever said there’s no bad publicity should have his head examined. I’ve had a cancellation from an important customer for all their building supplies, because of Eileen’s ridiculous petition.”

Daphne, who’d given Jolene a lift, smote her on the back. “It’ll blow over. This town could do with a bit of sophisticated fun.”

“You mean like this?” With a dramatic flourish, I presented the blackboard.

“And this?” Daphne had run up a few posters, using vintage images from library books as inspirations. Flappers, gentlemen in spats, and a cocktail shaker featured prominently. “Because I’ve been asked more than once when the grand opening will be.”

“I’ll have the interior finished in a week or so. Unless something else throws a spanner into the works.” Jolene’s brows knitted together.

“It’ll be peachy,” Adriana said. “A broken window won’t stop us.” She flitted over to our movie and music collection.

I followed her before she could use her powers to start the CD player.

With Cab Calloway songs in the background, we polished off pizza and a tub of apple and cinnamon gelato while we toyed around with a few bright ideas for the grand opening.

For once, Adriana listened without chiming in, sitting with the two animals who enjoyed a well-earned snooze. Funny enough, although it helped to focus on our guests, for a moment I missed her bright chatter.

When I saw Jolene plus blackboard and Daphne out, we’d chatted and laughed so much, my throat felt raspy.

Adriana relaxed on the daybed. She lifted her pretty head off the cushions. “It’s all going to be a blast.”

A cloud burst interrupted her. I hoped our friends had made it home dry. Yet there was something soothing in the constant drum of raindrops on the roof, and the splash on the balcony. The air smelled so much sweeter and cleaner after a good drenching, as if everything old, and stale, and unpleasant was swept away with the downpour.

***

“Wake up.” Adriana’s nose nearly touched mine.

I pulled the duvet up to my chin, still half asleep. “You promised to respect my privacy,” I mumbled, slightly disappointed. She’d made so much progress with boundaries, since the early days and nights when she’d hover over my bed whenever she felt lonely or excited.

“This is an emergency.” One nod from my great-great-aunt, and Cleo tugged at my duvet with all the might of her nine pounds. I sat bolt upright. “Is it Aimée?”

“Don’t worry. Your mother’s probably living it up at her spa.” My mother had taken off with her husband on a two-week trip that included a conference for him and pampering for her.

Adriana’s voice held a tiny reproach. She still didn’t appreciate it that her own great-niece was completely oblivious to Adriana’s exhilarating presence. Plus, the only time my vivacious relative had visited a spa had been with me, in Italy, as a ghost. Another thing she’d missed out on in her short lifetime.

“Then what is it?” I wrapped myself in my dressing gown and searched with my feet for my slippers.

“Cleo heard the tomcat two doors down tell his lady friend that there’s trouble in town. Real trouble, down where the Toast of the Town is.”

10.

I knew better than to doubt the claims of a four-legged informant. Or to wonder how the little tabby could have picked up the other cat’s communication. The tom she’d mentioned possessed the lungs of an opera singer, only with a less pleasing pitch.

A quick coffee would have to do instead of a hearty breakfast. My great-great-aunt, bless her immortal soul, had already worked her magic to switch on the machine. I gulped the much needed beverage down while I threw on my clothes.

Jolene sent me a message while I brushed my teeth. “Meet me at the bar?”

“On my way,” I texted back. What on earth was going on?

The answer was worse than I’d imagined. While Jolene’s mini-van stood outside the Toast of the Town, an ambulance and a police car were parked at the end of the small block. All Adriana and I saw was their doors closing before they both drove off.

“Genie,” Jolene called out from the side of her building. She enveloped me in a bear hug. Tears glinted in her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

I looked over my shoulder, although I had no idea why, as Jolene pulled me inside. “It’s so awful.”

I stroked her shoulder. I’d never seen Jolene lose her nerve, ever. Until now. “Tell me.”

She pointed at the floorboards. Candles surrounded a crude pentagram drawn in white chalk. The wall sconces were smashed. A sick taste crept into my mouth. “Have the police seen this yet?”

“They’ve got more important things to do.” Jolene swallowed.

“The ambulance,” I heard myself whisper. “Next door’s used for storage only, so it has to be Samantha. Is she hurt?”

“She seemed distressed and shocked as they took her away. I can’t say the same about the person they carried on a stretcher out of her store. Whoever it is, was beyond help.”

Goosebumps formed on my arms.

Adriana hugged herself. “We’ve got to get to the bottom of this, Genie, and fast. I’m not feeling well at all.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” was all I could say, meaning both my cherished ghost and my living friend. “Maybe we’re wrong and there’s a simple explanation for a customer passing away.”

“And what about this mess?” Jolene’s lip wobbled.

“The vandal, whoever it is, obviously thought the window wasn’t enough.”

“You don’t understand. How did they get inside? I’ve got security locks, and the windows are untouched.”

Adriana and I exchanged a glance. She’d said she was feeling unwell. Until now, I’d only seen her weakened if she was too far away from me or the items that grounded her, or if she’d used up too much energy. A chip in the half-brick in my purse could sap her spectral force.

Could occult forces do the same? I needed to get her home, asap. “What are you going to do about this?” I forced myself to look at the pentagram and to take pictures. Something about it made my skin crawl.

“Clean up and fix the window.”

I was torn. I really should offer my assistance, but what about Adriana?

My great-great-aunt fanned herself. “Where’s Hank and Tilda when you need them?”

That was a good question, so I asked Jolene.

She shrugged. “Busy with whatever’s going on in Samantha’s store, I reckon.”

“You should still call them. This is the second time you’ve been targeted.”

“I can’t afford any more rumors. If the hardware store loses more customers, I’ll have to quit as manager and let my uncle run it again.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“It better not, because that man, as much as I love him, can barely tell a crowbar from a pry bar, and don’t get me started on his repair skills.”

Although Jolene wasn’t related by blood to this uncle - her widowed mother had married his brother when Jolene was little - the whole family relied on her to take care of the business.

Correction, the whole town did, including the people making her life miserable over what should be a welcome addition to the nightlife.

“We promised Tilda we’d help her,” Adriana reminded me. “I bet you dollars to donuts this break-in is connected to all the other trouble.”

Except it wasn’t a break-in. I shelved this little technicality for the moment.

“They’ll keep it quiet,” I said. “Tilda’s discreet and Hank wouldn’t dare upset his favorite cousin.”

Jolene gave me a wan smile. “You’re right.” She messaged him on his private number.

While she was busy, I took the opportunity to ask Adriana how she was.

“I feel as if a mule had kicked me, but it’s getting better,” she admitted.

“We could go.”

“And miss something important?” She left me standing and peered over Jolene’s shoulder.

“Good heavens!” Jolene sank against the wall. “Hank and Tilda will be a while. He says they’re securing the crime scene until the lab guys arrive. The person on the stretcher? It seems there’s been a murder at Bell’s Books and Candles.”

A murder? Who was the victim?

We left the bar as we’d found it. Jolene added a heavy duty security chain to the doors.

Outside Samantha’s store, crime scene tape had gone up. I readied myself to reason with Adriana not to melt through the wall for a peek inside. For once, though, she stayed meekly by my side, although she must have wanted as much as I did to find out who died.

Now I really worried about my great-great-aunt. “Keep me posted,” I told Jolene before she climbed into her mini-van.

“You too.”

Adriana and I stayed silent on the ride home. I felt a monster headache coming on.

Two aspirins and a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon later, my energy had returned.

So had Adriana’s, only in her case Cleo’s doting company had supplied the mental fuel. She strode around the room. “What do we do now? Search for witnesses?”

“Not in broad daylight.” I didn’t bother to ask her which of the peculiar occurrences in Cobblewood Cove she meant to interview. Whoever was behind impossible break-ins, rotting fruit, and clues leading to witchcraft and satanism, clearly had Jolene in their crosshairs.

The fine hairs on my forearms rose. Obviously the murder was related to it all. Had the victim seen too much and been silenced for it?

My phone had been unusually quiet. It must have been hours since the corpse had been discovered. Yet I still had received no intel from Fred or the Schuylers or any of my other sources about the identity or related information.

For a close-knit small town like Cobblewood Cove, this equaled a major news blackout. This was unheard off.

“We can’t sit around doing nothing,” Adriana said. “Or witnesses might forget.”

“They can wait until dark. It’s weird to have me skulk around a crime scene, and have all the dogs barking and the cats caterwauling.”

Cleo hissed at me.

“Sorry, but that’s what it would sound like to lesser humans. And worse, the animals might get locked inside as punishment. Loud, non-stop barking is a reason for neighbors to complain, according to the city ordnance.”

Adriana squealed. “They can’t do that.”

“Afraid so. I remember reading an article.” I might have exaggerated a little, but I could always rely on my great-great-aunt to put the animals before her curiosity.

“So, we’ll drag our heels till sundown?” She shuffled around to emphasize her point.

My phone pinged. “Not quite. The Schuylers are delighted to let us have the painting for Jolene. Fred is waiting at the museum, if I’m available to pick it up.”

Her mood brightened. “What are we waiting for?”

Fred had already covered the large wooden panel with two layers of bubble wrap. He squeezed a corner. The plastic squelched a little, but the bubbles remained unburst, contrary to Fred’s. He appeared to have shrunk, and without his cheerful grin to smooth them, the lines in his face showed up as deep grooves.

“It’s as if our beautiful town is jinxed, Genie.” He wrung his hands. “In all my born days, I’ve never seen anything like this year.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Give him a hug,” Adriana said, but it was too late.

Fred lifted the packaged painting.

I grabbed the other end. “The police will solve everything.”

“They think they have already. I’ve been told Samantha Bell’s under arrest.”

The package slipped through my hands. I caught it just before it hit the wall. Despite the arrest seeming obvious, with a dead body found on her premises, somehow I hadn't seen it coming.

“I shouldn’t have sprung this on you,” said Fred, ever the gentleman.

“What’s she supposed to have done?”

“Murdered Winston Dooley.”

11.

We silently trotted to my car. Talking inside the museum walls was one thing. Outside, other people might hear. One of Fred’s fundamental character traits was that he didn’t gossip, not in the actual sense of the word. He shared information with me because I was trustworthy and a friend.

We lowered the back seat and slid the painting across.

“Will you manage the rest, or should I come with you?” he asked.

“You’ve done enough, thank you.” I watched him in the rear-view mirror, a small, and most of all, worried man.

No wonder. Since my return and Adriana’s materialization from the great yonder, Cobblewood Cove’s crime statistics had seen an unpleasant increase.

Winston Dooley wasn’t the first man to be murdered this year. I fervently hoped, though, that he’d be the last.

But why would Samantha have killed him?

I slid the painting out of its packaging onto the long workbench. I’d covered it with a felt underlay, to protect the wood. The bubble wrap would be repurposed for Cleo’s entertainment.

“Stop lollygagging.” Adriana hopped onto my work chair, ready for me to swivel it around. It helped her think.

I wish it could do the same for me.

“Again, please,” she said as the chair came to a halt.

“Later.” I rubbed a finger over the painted surface. It left a bit of grime on my skin. It shouldn’t be too hard to clean then. A time-consuming, repetitive job was just what I needed to set my subconscious in motion. All I lacked were the instructions.

“You’re doing it again,” Adriana said.

“Doing what?”

“Standing around like a statue. You’re wondering about Matt. Call him.”

So I did.

At the sound of his voice, my insecurity melted away. I’d worried about nothing, or rather, imagined an awkwardness between us, before he left.

“You’re a mind reader. I was just going to check in with you about Jolene,” he said.

“She’s pretty rattled. When are you coming back?”

“Hopefully before Halloween, unless you tell me to drop everything and come to the rescue of my best cousin.”

“He’s worried sick, the dear man.” Adriana formed a heart with her hands.

I agreed. For Matt to consider handing over an unfinished assignment took a lot. He was in high demand as a museum and gallery security specialist, because he also had an art history background. He could tell exactly how to keep the bad guys out while ensuring that the artwork wouldn’t be damaged when safety features were triggered.

“She wouldn’t want that,” I told him.

“There must be something I can do for her.”

“Convince her that the Toast of the Town will be exactly that. Especially if I finish this little project. It’s a 1920s artwork on wood.” I sent him pictures of the painting while I described our plan. That should keep him occupied as well.

He had one last question. “Do you believe Jolene’s safe?”

A chill crept over me. “Maybe I should invite her to stay with me until the police have solved the crimes.”

“I’d appreciate that. And, Genie, please stay out of trouble.”

“I will.”

Adriana arched an eyebrow at me. “Tell him you miss him.” She spun around to give me what she considered to be privacy.

“I miss you too,” Matt replied to my declaration. “We should work on our schedules when I’m home.”

A warm feeling replaced the earlier chill.

“You’re goofy for Matt.” Adriana hopped off the chair and inspected the heart-shaped mold. “You’re still going to finish this one, right?”

“Yes. Even if Samantha’s out of the picture -“

“For now.”

“For now, or for good, if she’s guilty. Nevertheless, Rose needs solace.”

“And protection. You all do.”

It was a rare occasion to see my great-great-aunt this serious, and this concerned.

“I think you’ll need to make a lot more jewelry to see you guys through until this investigation is over.” Adriana clasped her own necklace, for strength and emotional support.

“As soon as I’ve got the crystals. They were supposed to arrive today or tomorrow.”

“They might have come in. I’m sure Tilda Ramos will hand them over.”

“You want to talk to her.”

“It’s our duty. We promised her we’d be her gumshoes.”

“And then you can cross-check her intel with your four-legged witnesses.”

She tapped me on the nose. “Clever girl.”

I relaxed when I felt the tiniest touch. The family ghost had recovered. The question now was how to get hold of a police officer busy with a murder case.

Jolene provided the solution. I’d first finished the silver locket case with its intricate design, but now a trip to Nuts and Bolts was in order. I no longer cared if my purchases might raise curiosity.

To my surprise, my friend stood behind the cash register. A couple of customers lined up to pay for lightbulbs and bat string garlands.

I’d expected wild gossip - after all, a murder could only be kept quiet for so long - yet nobody mentioned it. Weird, unless they were trying to distance themselves from any unpleasantness. Or from Jolene?

Bat-shaped lights changed from steady glow to erratic flickering. They reminded me that Adriana had slipped the leash, or at least my supervision. I whistled softly.

She appeared out of the garden tool display. “It wasn’t me who did something to the electricity. Jolene’s uncle’s the one responsible.”

Right on cue, he took over from Jolene, who joined me.

I handed her my shopping list, courtesy of Matt’s info.

“Give me two minutes.” She grabbed a store basket and filled it with cloth, brushes, and cleaning materials. “Are you adding another string to your career?”

“Only a little side project, to keep me distracted.” I spot her a sideways glance. You had to know her well to notice the strain, but it was there.

“I can’t help you with that. Officer Ramos is going to meet me during her lunch break, and then I can hopefully clean up you-know-what. If you’re not too busy, I could do with your help.”

Adriana punched the air. “Yes, siree.”

***

Being a nice person, I picked up sandwiches for three at the deli. I had the sneaky suspicion that Tilda would otherwise go with an empty stomach, which was not conducive to solving crimes, or to allow herself to be interrogated.

Once again, she arrived without her partner in tow. Officer Hank Newby rarely skipped a meal, but he would have sacrificed his lunch for Jolene.

In the best tradition of Sherlock Holmes, I deduced that Tilda had kept him in the dark until she’d established that the goings-on at the Toast of the Town warranted an official investigation. No need to have him all worked up about Jolene’s trouble unless it was warranted.

Jolene switched on her portable work lights.

She’d replaced the broken window with another film-covered glass plate which let through only a minimum of daylight.

Tilda made the sign of the cross as she scrutinized the pentagram. “That’s sick. Are the candles the way you found them?”

“Everything’s untouched, apart from the window.” Jolene shone a flashlight on the broken sconces.

Tilda snapped on surgical gloves and picked up one of the candles surrounding the pentagram. She sniffed it and inspected the wick. “No trace of this ever having been lit.”

“Maybe whoever did this was disturbed before they could summon their demon,” I said. “If Winston Dooley noticed something …” I left the sentence unfinished.

Tilda’s stomach rumbled.

The sandwiches! I opened the paper bag with food, napkins, and bamboo plates.

We retreated to the small room destined to once again become a cloak room. The wooden counter had the perfect height to serve as a makeshift table. Also, this way we didn’t have to see the crude chalk drawing while we were eating.

Tilda wolfed down her BLT. “That’s better.”

“Ask her about the murder,” Adriana said after graciously allowing me to nibble half of my corned beef on rye.

“Do you think there’s a connection between the vandalism and his death?” I took another bite.

“Investigations are ongoing.”

“And you can neither confirm nor deny. Come on. You want this whole mess cleaned up, don’t you? You’re not a member of the detective squad, but you’ve seen the crime scene and you hear things. Imagine what it would do for your career if your assistance would be invaluable in solving a murder.”

“Please, Tilda,” Jolene said. “I need to know what I’m dealing with. I don’t even have a clue how the practical joker entered my premises. If it was just a silly prank.”

Again, Tilda made the sign of the cross. “I wish I could tell you. All I can say is that it’s not likely to have anything to do with Winston’s death. Unless Samantha’s also responsible for the damage here.”

“I don’t believe that for one measly second,” Adriana said. “I like her.”

I gave her a tiny shrug. Murderers came in all forms. So did insanity.

“What motive would she have?” Jolene asked.

“She’s denying everything. She says she had no clue Winston was there at all, or how he got inside. The store was locked and bolted.”

Adriana’s eyes widened. “Then she couldn’t have done it. Otherwise, she’d have left the door open before she called the flat feet.”

I reworded her statement to leave out the last words.

“Genie’s right,” Jolene said.

“Unless Samantha banks on us coming to the same conclusion, that she has to be innocent. We’re used to perps trying that trick,” said Tilda in a tone that implied vast experience with cunning criminals.

I let it slide, although I considered that unlikely. She’d been a Cobblewood Cove cop all her professional life. Until very recent events that had meant dealing with nothing worse than a drunk and disorderly old boy, or an irate cheated spouse wreaking havoc on the furniture. If at all.

“How did he die?” I asked.

“The lab results will take days. But there was no blood at the scene, and next to the body stood a chalice with the dregs of a fluid.”

“A chalice? Isn’t that only a fancy word for a cup?” Adriana rolled her eyes.

“How can you be certain it was murder and not a heart attack or another illness?”

Tilda hesitated.

“I could ask Hank, although his feelings might be bruised that you left him out of the loop.” Jolene bagged our plates and used napkins.

“Oooh, she’s playing hardball,” Adriana whispered.

“First observations point to poison. That’s all I have,” Tilda said.

“When did he die?”

“Around midnight, although that’s only an estimate. And, yes, I’d love these cases to be connected and to be a heroine, but there’s nothing concrete to link them. We’ll keep an open mind, of course.”

Adriana tut-tutted. “Apart from all the witchy dark magic stuff, you mean?”

"A stink bomb and a few objects meant to scare people don't usually escalate to murder," I said.

“What do I do then? Scrub the floor and remove the broken items?” Jolene asked.

“I could file a report,” Tilda said. “Only then it’s official, and there are already enough rumors. Were these sconces valuable?”

“I’ll survive without making an insurance claim.”

I had a suggestion. “How about you write your report but Jolene doesn’t sign it, at least not yet. If you have a suspect for the first break-in, then she could file it for good. We’ll take pictures and you can keep the candles as evidence.”

Tilda grimaced. “That might work. Only, how do I explain it to Hank?”

“Easy. Jolene didn’t want people to think he’d be pulling strings on her behalf, when there’s a murder investigation that should have priority.”

My great-great-aunt chuckled. “He’ll swallow that for sure.”

“I’ll drop by tonight with the report.” Tilda checked her watch. “Darn, I’ve got to be back at my desk in two shakes.” She filled an evidence bag with the candles and left us with a few instructions on how to secure evidence, or the lack thereof.

12.

Adriana waited until we were alone to break into song. “Yes, we have no bananas!” A few tap steps accompanied her.

“I assume you have a plan for your interviews,” I said.

“Do I ever!” She cocked her head at me. “I could take a peek at the crime scene. Maybe it’ll inspire me even more.”

“No.” I blocked her way. “Have you forgotten how awful you felt originally? Whatever evil this is, it could hurt you. We have other opportunities to find out what we need.”

“What about our crystals?”

“I’ll use what we have for the jewelry. Then we’ll just order what you want.”

“Not want, Genie, need. If ever there was a call for cleansing and encouraging in good energy, it’s now.” An inner glow lit up her delicate features. There could be no doubt. She intended to Feng Shui my existence to within an inch of its life.

There were some gorgeous Japanese designs in Adriana’s era, if I remembered correctly. I wouldn’t mind slipping into a silk kimono and matching pajamas with dragon motifs or lotus flowers. Earrings and bangles in lacquered enamel were also worth studying.

She waved a hand in front of me. “Hello?”

I snapped out of my reverie. “We’ll have our evening stroll after dinner.” By then, indoor pets would be curled in their baskets, and only guard dogs and a few cats would be out and about.

Those were the best candidates to help us. Adriana could say hello to her other four-legged friends when there was nothing else on the agenda.

“Let’s scramble. Time’s short,” she said.

My stomach tightened. What was it with this sense of urgency? Unless Adriana has glossed over her feeling on top of the world again. I couldn’t prevent Halloween from coming, but I could do my best to assist with the investigation, before voodoo dolls and other mystic stuff came into play that might affect my companion.

I only had the finishing touches left to do on Rose’s locket.

For Jolene, I’d designed an art déco pendant and matching earrings with an inlay of black tourmaline. I’d craft some for Daphne, too, if my jewelry making materials stretched that far. Possibly, the pranks at the library were unconnected and had only served as inspiration for the damage at Jolene’s bar.

Still, I couldn’t be sure. Anyway, having something pretty to wear never hurt anyone.

Adriana watched while I cut and polished the stones. She’d studied her Feng Shui instructions well enough to guide me in a little cleansing ritual as well. Maybe it would increase the power of the stones. If it didn’t - and the jury was still out on my opinion - at least she relished being in charge.

The silver work was simple, because I could use some of my existing molds and modify them a little. Every piece by Darling Designs was unique, and I intended to keep it that way.

“These are the bee’s knees.” Adriana admired my handiwork.

I put the locket for Rose in a sturdy cardboard box bearing my business name. A well of pride surged up in me. I hadn’t lost my skills. If only Samantha hadn’t been entangled in a murder, we could have had success with her idea.

“Chin up. If the police don’t see how wrong they are, we’ll nab the real culprit.” She wrinkled her nose. “You haven’t changed your mind about Samantha’s innocence?”

“No. At least - we don’t really know her. But even if she’s as pure as the driven snow, her business might be toast.” I thumped the work table. One of my needle files rolled to the edge.

“You could have a sales table at the ice-cream stand. It still is called Gem and Gelato, after all.”

“I’ll think about it.” I palmed the small cardboard box.

“We could drop it off tonight, unless Samantha’s forced to spend the night in the slammer.”

“It’s worth a try,” I admitted.

I decided I needed coffee to kick my brainpower into gear.

Adriana and Cleo both reminded me they, too, could do with a treat. Out came the milk frother.

My great-great-aunt inhaled the aroma of my cappuccino. A dainty fingertip held the tiniest amount of milk foam. She held it to her lips, and the milk was gone.

I’d once tried to work out the mechanics until I had a headache. Now, I went with the flow, the law of physics be darned.

Cleo lapped up her share from a saucer. She chirruped in sheer bliss.

I opened the window to the street. Fresh air was supposed to improve oxygen flow to the brain and aid the gray cells. It also carried the noise of cars - and of a couple of gossiping women.

Fragments of their discussion floated up. “… Bell woman’s always been bad news.” “The wicked things in that store! It should have been a warning.”

I slammed the window shut.

“That was interesting,” Adriana said.

“If these two hadn’t been newcomers.” Granted, the women in question had moved to Cobblewood Cove over a decade ago, when a new subdivision sprung up on the far side of town, but in local terms, that barely counted. I’d recognized them as regular visitors to our historic part of Cobblewood Cove only because they worked for a housekeeping service.

“Don’t you see? Word has spread, so people will be yacking away like crazy. You said we hardly know Samantha. Well, we only need to listen.”

“And have two and two make five in the court of public opinion.”

“What about what folks say in private?”

“You’re not planning to go through walls, so you can eavesdrop. It’s much too draining.”

“Don’t worry about me.” She fiddled with her glossy hair.

Cleo growled.

“Exactly.” Adriana beamed at our tabby.

“What did she say?”

“That you should stop forgetting about her. If we take her along, she can find out what the house cats overhear.”

“You can do that.”

“Not if it’s indoor pets, unless you changed your mind and want me to enter their homes.”

I pointed out the massive flaw in their plan. “Cleo can’t go in either.”

“All she needs is an open window, or a cat door. They’ll hear her. This is her chance to be a real gumshoe, like the rest of the family.”

“What about Cleo’s safety?” There hadn’t been a single day since she joined the Darling clan that this little cat had endured hunger, cold, or any other discomfort than her visits to the vet.

Considering that a simple check-up caused her to whimper all the way, and demand tender loving care for days after, I wondered if Cleo had any idea about the dangers lurking outside, apart from the dreaded small children.

“You’ll carry her in the pet backpack until we’ve located a potential source.” Both ghost and cat gazed at me with unwavering trust.

The backpack had been a gift from my mother. It came with a large plastic bubble, astronaut style, and a mesh net. The idea was that you carried your little darling the way you would a human baby, and they could see everything while being safe. The bubble opened all the way, with the net staying in place to prevent an escape.

I put my foot down. “We’ll only do a short round if I have to do all the carrying.” Cleo was in perfect shape for a cat of her size, but I wasn’t a weightlifter. “No wiggling and shifting your body, either.”

Cleo crossed her paws.

“I mean it. Playing detective isn’t easy.”

“Ignore Genie. You’ll be a great gumshoe,” Adriana assured the cat.

With the backpack strapped to my chest, we set out into the sunset.

Cleo peered through the opening. Her ears twitched as she strained to hear other felines. She growled, a low, soft growl echoed by a yelp.

“Move her closer,” Adriana said.

“Closer to where?”

“The balcony.”

We’d reached the block next to the Cocoa Cabana, where the manager and two of the wait staff shared a villa converted into three apartments. The servers were too young to remember Samantha’s past, but the manager, a slight woman with a head for numbers and a sublime touch with desserts, was a different prospective.

According to the archived copies of yearbooks and the deeply lamented Cobblewood Cove Clarion, which had served the community until a decade ago, Lisa Bunning went to high school together with Samantha. They’d both been members of the drama club, so Lisa should have a definite opinion of her.

Cleo called out. She shifted her weight. The backpack moved, and the straps dug into my shoulders.

“Stop wiggling,” I said.

“Do you want Cleo to interview Lisa’s kitty or not?”

I resigned myself while the feline conversation continued.

A worried face peeked over the balustrade. “Why are you growling? There’s nothing there to be afraid of.” Lisa noticed me. “Hi, Genie.”

I looked up and pretended I’d only this second noticed her. Lisa picked up a large gray cat and went inside with her.

Cleo purred, the long-drawn noise she used when she felt particularly pleased with herself.

“Who’s next?” Adriana asked.

I moved the backpack a little. A stroller would have been a lot more practical and comfortable, at least for me. “There’s not a lot of her high school class living downtown.”

“Why did you let Lisa go then?”

“Instead of shouting my questions at her? She’s not a gossip. Without the archive, I wouldn’t even have discovered that she and Samantha go way back.”

Cleo chirruped.

“Lisa’s cat says she’s a real talker.”

“With her pet, maybe. The big gray can’t go around and blab, which Lisa can’t afford as a businesswoman.”

A toddler stumbled around the corner. His hand grasped for Cleo’s head. “Kitty.”

Fortunately, he barely came up to my mid-thigh. She was safe. Despite that, she flattened herself against my chest.

“She wants to go home.”

The toddler’s mother came in sight, pushing a trike with a slightly older girl.

The toddler pointed a finger at Cleo. “Mommy, kitty.”

“Why, you’re right, it is a cat. If you ask nicely, the lady might let you look at her.” The mother gazed fondly at her offspring.

I bent a little, staying just out of reach while allowing the boy to admire Cleo from a safe distance.

He giggled.

“I’m afraid we’ve got to go,” I said to him and his mom.

Adriana blew a dozen kisses at Cleo. “Who’s the bravest cat of all and deserves a big treat?”

Cleo audibly licked her lips.

13.

We were on our way home when the Schuyler sisters hailed me from their doorstep.

“I hope it’s not Petey,” Adriana fretted.

“They’re too chipper for that.” Petey the parrot probably topped the list for the number of times a bird had been charmed off a tree, ever, and anywhere, worldwide.

Cleo peered out of the now closed bubble. She scrabbled at the plastic.

Dahlia cooed. “She’s so adorable. Do you think Cleo’d mind coming inside for a while?”

“I’m sure there’ll be something delicious for her in the kitchen.” Primrose guided me towards the door, which had swung open with perfect timing.

The Schuylers, in their position as grand dames of Cobblewood Cove, had a manservant at their beck and call. Not that they’d abused their position. I’d seen the sisters cancel an afternoon soiree because the dear man, who’d spent over half a century in their service, had sneezed that morning in manner that concerned his employers.

Cleo meowed.

“It’s fine with her,” Adriana said.

Stepping inside was taking a journey back into a bygone era. Where my apartment was mostly art déco, for my great-great-aunt’s sake, the Schuyler mansion combined classic grandeur with enough money to ensure the chandeliers gleamed, the wood was polished to a satiny finish, and the staircases swept up like they did in the movies.

Yet the rooms also felt lived in - especially those where Petey roamed freely. If one was accepted into the Schuylers’ inner circle, the occasional bird dropping was par for the course.

Cleo could be trusted around Petey as long as Adriana was around. I couldn’t guarantee the same for him. The poor parrot might have a heart attack if he came face to face with a cat in a bubble carrier. We solved the problem with the aid of a bowl filled with fresh salmon and the help of Primrose and Dahlia’s nephew George.

I goggled as I spotted him in the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a cable-knit sweater instead of a bespoke suit. The fact that he had a knack for charming cats also came as a surprise. “I’ll take care of this beautiful lady,” he said as Cleo rubbed herself against his legs the second she’d climbed out of her carrier. He ran a finger over her spine.

She purred.

“If only he were half as fond of Petey.” Primrose sighed.

I grinned. Bird and nephew had a slightly strained relationship, thanks to Petey’s claws and messy toilet habits.

“Here it is.” Dahlia flung open the doors to a small drawing room that doubled as an aviary.

To me it looked the same as always, with comfortable furniture and several posts for the parrot to choose from.

“The window,” Adriana said. She was right. While it now opened inwards, a wide ledge and a safe enclosure had been added. If Petey wanted to follow the call of the wild, he could venture outdoors and still be secure.

“Jolene built it. After all, we can’t expect you to come to his rescue non-stop.” Dahlia opened the window, only to shut it when a chilly breeze hit us. We’d soon have the first frost.

“That’s brilliant. I’ll ask him if there’s anything he’d like in his new playroom.” Adriana clucked her tongue.

Petey flew up from his hiding-place and headed straight towards her.

Frantically I signaled for her to put her hand on his post so it wouldn’t look as if he hovered mid-air, should he decide to sit on her hand or her shoulder.

She winked at me and twittered at the parrot.

With a shriek, he landed next to her. His head bobbed up and down.

“A few branches would be good. They’ve got to be sturdy and weatherproof. He hates it when he’s clinging onto slimy stuff.”

Petey squawked and fluttered his red and green wings.

Adriana strode around the room, measuring distances with her hands. “The grandfather chair’s in his flight path. If it would sit in the northern corner, next to a side table with an aromatherapy candle, he’d experience much more peace and joy.”

I turned my back to the sisters, wrote a question mark in the air, and mimed that Primrose and Dahlia would believe I’d lost my mind.

“He needs at least the branches,” Adriana said.

I pretended to have been struck by inspiration. “I watched a documentary about parrots. Now, where was it? Anyway, it seems the birds really enjoy sitting on a tree, like Petey does, when he escapes. If you had a few fake branches in the encasing, he should be happy. But it has to be warm.” The last part of my advice really came from a documentary. Petey was a tropical bird. The cold of a New England winter might kill him.

“We could ask Jolene. She’s so good with these sorts of things,” Dahlia said.

“If she’s not too busy with her new business venture.” Primrose chuckled. “That’s the other thing we wanted to have a word with you about. After all, it was your idea?”

“Oh?”

“We’ve decided to open our exhibition about Cobblewood Cove’s speakeasy and the prohibition era, how our town experienced it, to coincide with Jolene’s grand opening. That ought to guarantee her publicity.”

Adriana broke into a Charleston. “That’s swell!”

I reached out for both sisters and squeezed their hands. “That’s a wonderful idea.”

“It’s about overdue that people show their support.”

Adriana motioned me to sit and hopped onto the armrest, with Petey next to her.

“Do you think she’s in trouble otherwise?” I asked.

Dahlia wrung her hands. “She shouldn’t be, but people are on edge. Eileen’s a fool, but if she can tie the reappearance of a speakeasy as the starting point of events that somehow led to Winston’s murder —”

“Which would be so like her,” her sister interjected. "She's now implying that the whole block is haunted and poisons people's minds."

“That’s ridiculous,” I said.

“Not more than the idea that Samantha has lured Winston to his death, and yet people are believing it. ”

“But you don’t?”

The sisters shrugged in unison. “It’s hard to say, except why should she kill him at all?” Primrose asked.

“Did you know her in her youth?”

“Her parents attended our church, and her mother was secretary of the garden club when we were joint chairs,” Primrose said. “Such a loving family, they were.”

“Everybody said Samantha had a bright future ahead. She reminded me a little of your dear mother, Genie, so full of enthusiasm and curiosity about the world. And of course, when her parents were taken from us much too soon, nobody expected her to stay,” Dahlia said.

“It was quite a surprise to see her return as a store owner.”

“Did Winston see it like that? They used to date, if I’m right.”

“Years and years ago. Missy was thinking about hosting a reunion for all their old school friends, although she was two years behind Samantha and her husband.”

Dahlia frowned at her sister. “Wasn’t there a bit of a tension between Winston and Samantha? I heard he’d always been uneasy about tarot, and palm-reading, and the healing power of herbs gathered under the full moon. I was told that was the reason he broke up with her in high school.”

Interesting. While I could easily imagine a man being threatened by anything smacking remotely of embracing the mystical arts and feminine power, I hadn’t thought Winston fell under that category.

Petey cocked his head. “Naughty.”

The sisters were taken aback. “Petey!” They admonished him in unison.

“Who is naughty?” Adriana asked.

I repeated her question, for the sisters’ sake.

“George taught him that word. Really, you’d think that a grown man would be a little more tolerant.” Primrose pressed her lips together.

“Although I’m sure dear George cares deep down. Why, he was the first to sound the alarm when Petey went missing and we had to come to you for help,” Dahlia said.

“I’ve no doubt that your nephew is fond of this little fella.” Considering that Petey had more than once left his visible marks on some very expensive suits, the word naughty could almost be classed as a term of endearment.

“Naughty,” Petey said again, in a higher pitch which held no resemblance to George’s. What did it mean? He was a gifted mimic. On the other hand, he was also a bird and not likely to do more than repeat words he’d heard often enough.

“Who?” Adriana asked him.

He shrieked in response.

She tapped her finger against her lips. “Intriguing. A woman said that when you were outside, waiting to be rescued?”

I winked at her. We’d have a long leisurely talk when we were home.

“Why do you think Samantha would have wanted to kill Winston?” I asked the sisters. That question had me baffled, but then I wasn’t exactly an expert on those two.

“She used to be such a level-headed girl. Never gave her parents a moment’s worry. Unless, of course — “ Dahlia broke off mid-sentence.

“Yes?”

Although we were alone in the room, she lowered her voice to a mere whisper. “I’ve heard that she could have been under the influence.”

Primrose took over. “Dark forces, that’s what we heard. Although that’s all nonsense.” Despite her brave words, I sensed that the sisters were shaken.

“Because of her store?”

They nodded. Primrose’s gaze flickered to the aromatherapy candles lining a shelf. They were supposed to curb Petey’s wanderlust.

“I can promise you, I didn’t spot anything on those premises that you wouldn’t find in every typical esoteric store. If there’s any witchcraft, it’s all about Mother Nature and finding balance. Ask any herbalist or naturopathic healer.”

“You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent.” Which left me with another question. “Is there anyone with a serious grudge against Winston?”

“Missy would be the best person to ask.” Was there a sly twinkle in Primrose’s eye?

“I can’t just knock on her door,” I said. At least the Schuylers took my interest in the case for granted, and they were discreet.

“You could go with Dahlia if you care to sign up for the meal train. We aim to see that Missy’s taken care of for at least a week, while she’s dealing with her loss and all the funeral arrangements.”

“We sorted out ours ages ago, when our dear mama passed. It’s an immense weight off our shoulders to know that everything’s going to be as we want it, and George won’t have to handle a thing.”

I thought back to the couple of occasions when I’d come closer than I’d ever wanted to joining my ancestors. “Maybe I should think about getting my affairs in order.”

“It never hurts to be prepared.” Dahlia patted my hand. “Now, would you care to join me tomorrow and drop off a meal? It’s best to have something freezer-ready.”

I promised to return with a home-cooked dish.

Cleo napped on a rug close to the range when we came to pick her up. A morsel of food was all that was left in the bowl.

I lifted her into the backpack. She stirred for an instant, only to fall asleep again.

Outside, the streetlights cast feeble beams over sidewalks and polished front doors. A few inflatable witches and jack-o'-lanterns adorned doorsteps. Two small kids begged their parents to put up a giant carved bat. The adults declined. “Not this year. That’s inviting trouble,” the man said.

“That’s so sad,” Adriana whispered. “They shouldn’t be so mean.” She waved at the little ones, although she knew only too well they wouldn’t see her.

An icy lump formed in the pit of my stomach. Halloween used to be the most exciting holiday when I was little. People tried to outdo each other in a friendly competition that was as much about bringing a little spooky joy into each other’s lives as it was about having the coolest decorations in the neighborhood.

Now it felt as if they were afraid of entering into the spirit of the holiday. Murder does that to people, especially when it comes amidst a slew of bizarre incidents. The pentagram on Jolene’s floorboards still gave me the creeps.

The cat shifted her weight in her sleep.

“Let’s drop Cleo off and swing by the Toast of the Town,” Adriana said.

14.

The little tabby half-heartedly complained as she saw us heading back out again without her.

“We’ll soon be back and then you can tell us all your exciting news. It’s too boring for you to listen to dogs.” My great-great-aunt blew her a kiss.

The crime scene tape still cordoned off Samantha’s store door. I kept my head lowered, doing my best not to imagine the scene as it must have been when the body was discovered. I’d found a corpse before. It wasn’t an experience I’d want to repeat, ever.

“Over there.” Adriana steered me towards the back of the block.

We’d passed a few family homes on our way, and further down the road stood more modest buildings. Mansions and villas belonged to the stretch further away from the cove and the river that meandered towards the fertile land beyond the city limits.

The original speakeasy had been well placed to be reached within minutes and yet away from the scrutiny of the temperance brigade or nosey neighbors. Nowadays, this area still belonged to old Cobblewood Cove families, but without old money to go with it.

A small dog of an indeterminate heritage barked. He squatted outside a shed that looked like something constructed from leftover plywood.

I turned around. The dog’s yard offered an overview of both the street front and the alley towards the back.

Adriana beckoned to me.

“Ask him if he’s okay with me coming closer,” I said.

We’d once interviewed a nervous Pekingese who’d hid under his porch at the sight of me, a human lurking next to however he experienced my great-great-aunt.

I stood at a respectful distance until she gave me the all-clear. I positioned my bag with the brick at her feet, after I’d spread a plastic sheet on the ground.

“Genie, this is Chipper.” She touched my hand, and the canine yaps became words in my head.

“A stinker of a night,” Chipper said. “I should have been inside, by the fire, but my human was worse than a puppy with a tick on their tail, since the police were sniffing around the bar.”

“Did you see Winston Dooley arriving? Or any other person on the night of the murder?”

He thumped his tail. “I wouldn’t know, would I? Not names and such. I saw a man outside the store, the same who died.”

“How can you tell?”

“His shoes. The old terrier on the other side of the road had done his business at the curb again and the man had stepped into it. He tried to scrape it all off, but he didn’t. That’s what I smelled and saw.” He showed his teeth in a resemblance of a wide grin.

“Was he the only human?” I asked.

Chipper scratched behind his ear. “There was a female. Striped fur on her head like a garter snake or a chipmunk, only in yellow. She didn’t use to have that.”

“Did she pass by before or after the man?”

“After. I caught a glimpse of him and then of her and then I got a whiff of a bone I’d stashed under my shed.” He put his paw over his face.

“We get hungry too,” Adriana said. She stroked Chipper’s back with her free hand.

“Did you see if she went past the store?” I asked.

“No. I was busy chewing.”

“Would you recognize her?”

“She lives down the road, with an old man who sits in a chair on wheels. They pass by sometimes.” Chipper yawned.

“Thank you,” I said.

Adriana broke her physical contact with me.

Chipper’s answer changed to short yaps.

“We need to ask Tilda if she’s found this possible witness yet,” I said.

Adriana fanned herself and hopped onto the bag with the brick. She wiggled around, to use it to recharge the energy creating a three-sided connection with the dog and me had cost her. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Like what?”

She pointed me towards the store. Upstairs, a glimpse of light shine through a chink in the blinds. Samantha was home.

The bell to her apartment upstairs was at the back. A fire-escape and a small tacked-on balcony attracted my attention while I waited for her to open, or to send me away.

The intercom crackled. “Yes?”

“It’s Genie Darling. I’ve got the necklace for your customer.”

A square hallway opened into a box staircase. The architect hadn’t wasted an inch when it came to creating both store and living quarters upstairs while keeping them separate.

Samantha did her best to appear calm and composed. Only a twitching nerve in her jaw gave her away. That, and the dark smudges under her eyes no concealer could cover up.

I couldn’t blame her. A dead body on my premises and a day’s interrogation would leave their marks on anyone but a hitman. Or a hitwoman.

The airy apartment combined Zen furniture with cluttered bookcases. No, not cluttered, arranged by author and genre. Most books had cracked spines or other signs of being read and re-read.

I believe that there are few things that reveal more about personality than reading material and the way it’s used. Since it would appear weird if I twisted my neck to study Samantha’s bookcases on my first visit, I signaled Adriana to do it. She had a much better memory too, if she felt like it.

“Can I offer you a beverage?” Samantha fiddled with a silver spinner ring on her right hand.

I hadn’t noticed it before. Spinners were not among my designs, which focused on the beauty of the art déco, not on function. I knew people who swore by the rings to calm anxieties and help with mindfulness. Samantha must have had it before the murder.

Was it possible that underneath her in-control exterior, she’d been worried all along? But why? “Coffee would be great. White, please.”

Kitchen and dining area took up one end of the large open plan room. Only the bedroom and bathroom were separate.

“Can you light a candle?” Samantha asked while she prepared the coffee, barista style.

The outside world seemed miles away as we sat down. The candle flickered on the table. A soft scent of vanilla infused the room, and the loudest noise was the rustling of the tissue paper as Samantha unwrapped the locket. I strained my ears. There should be the sounds of cars driving past. Instead, a deep silence engulfed us. The sound-proofing was next to perfect.

Samantha’s fingers caressed the locket. “It’s exquisite. Thank you.”

“It was fun. And it might help Rose a little.”

“I’m certain it will. But I also meant thanks for risking coming here. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the town has me already convicted of —” She swallowed. “Of killing Winston.”

“Not we, no siree,” Adriana said. She reached for my coffee.

I left a bit of milk on my spoon so she could dip her finger in it after stripping off her glove. “What happened?” I asked. “Unless you’d rather not discuss it.”

“Cobblewood Cove’s answer to Nancy Drew, or Sherlock Holmes.” Her smile stopped short of her eyes. Still, I gave her full marks for attempting to lighten the mood.

“Believe me, I’ve been wracking my brain for answers since I found him.” She twisted her ring, hard.

I waited for her to continue.

It took her a few sips and deep breaths. “I woke up as usual, did my yoga routine, had breakfast, and then I went downstairs. There he was, stretched out like a mannequin in a Halloween decoration. Only he wasn’t a doll.” She choked up.

“Did you touch him?”

“I couldn’t bring myself to do that. I called the ambulance and the police, although it was obvious he was dead, with his head at an angle and his arms and legs stretched out wide. There was a side table next to him that should’ve been a few inches away. I used it to display hand creams.” Her teeth chattered.

“Do you think he moved it? Or that the killer hid before closing time, maybe in your stockroom?”

“It’s possible. Because, I swear to all that’s holy, I didn’t do it.”

“We believe you.” Adriana swung herself onto the coffee table and peered at Samantha.

Our hostess relaxed a little.

Adriana hummed, and Samantha exhaled.

“Talking really helps,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” My great-great-aunt shot me a triumphant look. “She’s very sensitive. I feel a real spiritual connection here.”

“Great,” I said to both of them. If Samantha sensed Adriana’s sympathetic presence, good for her. As for my great-great-aunt, she could do with anything that tethered her to the here and now. A friend, unwitting or not, should count. “How do you think the killer escaped?”

“He didn’t. That’s the strangest part. It’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because the door was locked, with the key still in place, and bolted from the inside.”

“No wonder you’re the prime suspect.” I glanced around. “Could he have used your apartment as a way in and out? If he or she used the fire escape to climb onto the balcony, that’s a possibility.”

“They would have needed to know the code for the keypad.”

“Are the police at least looking into that? If you were asleep, the killer could have crept past and hid until you went downstairs. The hallway leads to the stock-room as well as up to you, right?”

“It does. I never thought of that.”

“You’d suffered a shock,” I said. “The real question in this case is, who had a motive to kill Winston Dooley?”

“It doesn’t make sense. He was one of the nicest guys in the world.”

“You used to go out together, right?”

“When we were teenagers. Ancient history.”

“Do you have any idea if he had trouble with someone? Or an argument?”

Samantha hesitated for a moment too long. “No. I can’t imagine him having a disagreement with anyone at all.”

“Applesauce.” Adriana gaped at our hostess. “She’s a good liar.”

I had to agree. I’d have believed Samantha wholeheartedly had Adriana and I not witnessed a less than cordial encounter between those two.

15.

I flipped through my recipe book.

What would a grieving widow enjoy? I had no clue about her liked and dislikes, apart from her fondness for our very own gelato.

Adriana reclined in a chair, with Cleo by her side, and watched me with growing amusement. “You’re not trying to win first prize here.”

“No, but I’m trying not to poison Missy.” I winced. Wrong choice of words.

“How about your lasagna? It’s almost as good as the Italian one we had in Tuscany.” Her face tilted upwards, lost in happy memories. Our Italian trip had been her first vacation abroad. During her original time on earth, she’d never left the Eastern seaboard.

I rummaged in the freezer for ingredients.

Adriana snapped out of her reverie. “Or we could warm Missy’s heart with something cold.”

“Concoct a signature ice-cream?” We had a batch of half-churned orange gelato still awaiting Adriana’s special magic. I scooped out a few sample bowls, and she sniffed them.

“Bring me the spices,” she said.

Cleo stood up in the chair, sliding out her pink tongue.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Cream’s too rich for you and spices upset your tummy,” Adriana said.

I hoped Missy’s constitution was less delicate. To be on the safe side, we made one batch of orange and vanilla, one of orange and cardamom, and one with a spice mix Adriana had dubbed Witch’s Wonder.

Given what was happening in Cobblewood Cove lately, we’d have to rename it to something less topical. I wrote out three labels, and we were ready.

Dahlia had dressed with great care for the occasion. A lavender suit with a warm coat on top hinted at mourning.

The Victorians had used colors and fabrics to show their connection to the deceased; I remembered. They were sticklers for distinction, to such an extent where the mourning dress was different for relatives mentioned in the will to those who went empty-handed. Since New York and Boston had long followed London society, it seemed fitting that our history-loving town matriarchs would do the same.

I’d opted for dark slacks and a dark coat.

Missy opened the door herself. Her black cardigan had an egg-stain.

I’d never before seen her less than immaculate and well-organized, but that was before Winston’s death.

Dahlia clasped her hands. “We’re so very sorry for your loss. If there’s anything Primrose and I can do, you only have to say the word.”

“You’re too kind.” Missy freed her hands and blew her nose. “I’m so silly. I half expect to hear his key in the door any moment. This morning, I’d poured his coffee before I knew what I was doing.”

We followed her into the kitchen. Or rather, Dahlia and I did. Adriana planned to use the opportunity to poke around in Winston’s study for clues. After all, well-liked society pillars didn’t get themselves murdered without an excellent motive.

The widow shoved Dahlia’s casserole into the freezer. My contributions received more care. “Missy’s Melting Mouthful, in sweet, spicy, and marvelous,” she exclaimed. “I can’t tell you how touched I am.”

I shot her a winsome smile. “I’m glad. It must be so hard to cope.”

She bit back tears. “I’ll get used to it. I’m taking a few weeks off work, but life must go on. At least I have my volunteer job with the children to keep me busy. It’s what Winston would have wanted.”

“Have you considered a vacation? My mother went on a cruise after we lost my father. She said it took her mind off her pain,” I said.

“I get seasick the second I set foot on a boat. Winston didn’t believe it until we took the ferry to Staten Island in New York. I’m happiest at home, to be honest. Cobblewood Cove is all I need.”

Adriana drifted into the kitchen. “Nothing, apart from enough pictures of the two to plaster a wall. He must have really cared about them, because there’s not a speck of dust around them on his desk, unlike the filing cabinets. I could peek inside if you’d help me.”

I gave her a tiny head shake. It would drain her vital force too much, even if I stood by with the brick in hand. Using all her powers was only ever a last recourse.

Missy plunked into a chair. Her chin wobbled. Make-up had settled in every fine line on her face.

“What do you think happened?” Dahlia asked.

“I’ve got no idea. There’s one thing I can tell you, though. Samantha Bell had nothing to do with it.”

“You seem very certain.”

“Well, I am. She’s one of the kindest, most considerate people I ever met.” Missy’s gaze met mine. “It’s absolutely idiotic if people say that she might have held a grudge because he dumped her after high school. If we all went around killing our old boyfriends, this world would be pretty underpopulated.” She attempted a small laugh.

“I’m lucky if I remember their names and faces,” I admitted.

“I do.” Adriana averted my gaze. I hadn’t pried too much into her past. If she wanted to talk about those 21 years before she’d departed the mortal realm, I’d be ready. The choice was hers.

Missy fiddled with her cardigan buttons. “I told the police as much. I said, if they need a character witness, I’m right here.”

“Were you close friends?”

“You don’t need to be close to her to see that Samantha wouldn’t hurt a fly. She and Winston were a few years ahead of me. You should have seen his surprise when she came home and opened her store. Dumbstruck, that’s what he was.” Her chin wobbled harder. “He didn’t have a chance to get used to her witchcraft, as he called it.”

The doorbell rang again. Dahlia gave me a sign that we had to go.

We traded places with another giver of casseroles, a raven-haired woman I wasn’t acquainted with.

Dahlia frowned. “We were supposed to be the only ones on the meal train today, so Missy won’t end with a lot of food and no freezer space.”

“Maybe the woman signed up with a different person?”

“In Cobblewood Cove?” A little doubt crept into her voice. “It could be one of the ladies in the new part of town. They don’t always understand our habits.”

“Have Fred check in with the city hall folks and the library. They all have notice boards. I’ll take over Goldilocks.” “That’s an excellent idea.”

16.

Miss Lulu's nerves jangled. So did her bracelets. She’d piled on more good luck charms than a St. Patrick’s Day parade.

Two clients had their foil-covered heads under the gigantic dryers. One of them swiveled around as much as she could underneath the helmet. It had to be Eileen, of course, of all people.

She smirked. “If it isn’t Genie Darling. Do you believe me now that evil is afoot in our very midst?”

Miss Lulu clutched her chest. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth. We invited in sinfulness, and now a good, righteous man is dead.” Her words were a little hard to understand with the whoosh from the hair dryers and the jingling doorbell.

Adriana blew out her cheeks.

I waved her off. A cold spell hitting her in the face, however satisfying for us, would only increase Eileen’s paranoia.

“We’ll get rid of whatever forces of darkness are around us soon enough,” the diminutive newcomer said with an ominous undertone. Miss Lulu’s cousin Toots brandished a pistol. Adriana and I gasped.

Eileen screamed.

“Oops, my bad. That’s the water pistol I bought for my grandson.” Toots returned the alarmingly realistic weapon to her bulging tote. Instead, she brought out a rag doll, with stitched on hair, and a flask labeled Holy Water. “I asked the Bishop’s office to send us an exorcist.”

“That’s absurd,” Miss Lulu said.

“It’s the only way, mark my words.”

“What did they reply to your request?”

Toots shuffled her feet. “It might take a while for them to reply. I’ll ring them again once we’re clear about what we’re dealing with.”

Eileen’s head popped out from under the dryer. “What do you mean, Toots?”

“There’s only two possibilities. Either we have a real-live haunted house, with the old bar.” She made the sign of the cross.

“The entire block is haunted, if you ask me. It has to be torn down,” Eileen said.

The woman next to her squeaked. “What about all the donations in the warehouse? They could be spreading more evil, just by touching them.” She was vaguely familiar to me, as one of the newer residents. To be fair, apart from this ludicrous comment, so far she’d kept remarkably calm, all things considered.

“If we act fast, we can stop the rampage.” Toots raised her arms to the heavens, or in this case, the ceiling.

“What’s the second possibility?” Miss Lulu rubbed the silver four-leaf clover on her bracelet with her thumb.

Toots took a deep breath. “Demonic possession.”

I managed to turn my guffaw into a cough. Any moment now, they’d see bloodthirsty souls leaving their bodies and swooping down on half the town's population.

“You’re not saying, Sam —“ Eileen stopped herself. “We shall not name names, not until we’ve got confirmation.”

“You said yourself, the Bishop’s office might take a while.”

Miss Lulu’s cousin fixed Eileen with a gimlet-like stare. “That’s why I’ve taken it upon myself to find an expert. The veils between our world and the other world are thinning, with every second that we get closer to Halloween.” She fished again in her tote and slammed a business card on the table. “Madame Blanche will hold a séance. If we have a haunted house in out town, she’ll cast out any ghost or evil spirit that dares raise their ugly heads.”

A comb clattered to the floor. I’d dropped it without noticing. Heck, I hadn’t been aware I’d picked it up in the first place. Because while I refused to believe that Samantha was possessed by a demon, or that the buildings were out to destroy us, there were things that had no rational explanation.

Chief among them was my great-great-aunt, who paled at the sight of Madame Blanche’s card.

Was she thinking the same as me? We had to stop the séance, if there existed so much as a minuscule chance it could hurt my beloved ghost. I peeled out of Goldilocks, with a shocked Adriana by my side.

17.

“They want to bump me off.” My great-great-aunt wailed, a heartbreaking noise from someone who, under normal circumstances, made Pollyanna look like a grump.

As soon as we were through the door, Cleo threw herself at Adriana’s feet. Her tail thumped and her eyes glittered with fear.

“I won’t let anything bad happen. Cross my heart,” I said.

“Really? You’ll stop that evil woman before she sets out to destroy me? She might have learned her trade from Madame Arcati in Blithe Spirits.” Adriana pressed her hand against her forehead. Her peach and cream complexion had turned a ghostly pale since we’d heard the news.

I also had the shrewd idea that the very thought of Halloween weighed on Adriana’s mind as much as it did on mine.

What if ghosts really came alive for that one night, only to be dead again in the morning? What if her whole afterlife was a fluke and not related to her mysterious death and her missing necklace? Halloween might be the death of her, again.

My great-great-aunt propped herself up on one arm. “You could find her and sabotage her car. Or kidnap her.”

“I’m not sure jail would suit me. or that you and Cleo would like it if I’m not around.”

She goggled at me. “I hadn’t thought of that. I’d rather sacrifice myself than allow any harm coming to you.”

“That won’t be necessary. All we have to do is solve the case. Then there’s no need for Madame Blanche’s visit.”

The cat grabbed my leg with two paws.

“We haven’t asked Cleo yet what she’s found out,” Adriana said.

“I’m so sorry.” I hoped the cat would accept my contrite demeanor. If Cleo’s feelings were hurt, she tended to sharpen her claws on my rugs.

I couldn’t blame her - I also wasn’t too fond of being ignored.

Cleo jumped onto the sofa and groomed herself. Her tongue flicked over her paws.

I took a chair opposite and did my best to show rapt attention. “You’ll need to translate,” I told Adriana. Acting as a conduit put too much strain on her in this weakened state.

Cleo meowed and growled and hissed, and my great-great-aunt cooed in admiration.

“How absolutely marvelous,” she declared when Cleo fell silent. “She’s as good a detective as we are. Cleo Darling, super gumpaw!”

“So she did find out something of interest from Lisa’s cat?”

“Only that Lisa says that if Samantha wanted to kill someone, she’d do it in broad daylight. It seems Samantha used to have a short fuse and she’d blow as gasket when students picked on weaker kids or were mean to animals.”

“I can sympathize,” I said.

“Lisa thinks Samantha took up all the crystal and herbal tea mumbo-jumbo to use as her chill pill.” Adriana mimed air quotes.

Either translating human speech via two cats switched things up, or calm and balanced Lisa kept her snarkier side for private use only. “What about Winston? Did the cat pick up on any motive?”

“No. Especially since it was Samantha who’d dumped him, ages ago. It seems he lied to his wife.”

“Trying not lose face, I reckon. Many people do that. Unless the late Winston Dooley was a habitual liar, which might have rubbed a lot of people the wrong way.”

“No dice, at least according to our witness. Straight as an arrow, Lisa said.”

“Funny how chatty she was with her cat, while keeping mum in public.”

Cleo chirruped.

“Lisa was afraid being friendly with Samantha might backfire on her own business.”

“Eileen’s coven?”

“That’s what I think. The cat didn’t know names, but who else could it be?”

A cold chill crept over me. “That’s bad. The Cocoa Cabana is a town institution. If Lisa is scared about losing her customers, what about our gelato business?”

“Maybe Eileen’s the one getting exorcized.” A wan smile accompanied Adriana’s words. I gave her a closer look. Slowly, the color was returning to her face.

I stroked Cleo’s head. “You’ve done a great job.”

My teachers used to complain about my scattershot approach at anything I couldn’t solve with enthusiasm and bursts of inspirations.

They’d be amazed at the new Genie. Lightbulb moments would be most welcome, alas so far they were not forthcoming. With time running out, we had to do our sleuthing the old-fashioned way.

I wheeled a large magnetic whiteboard into the living room. It used to hold inspirational pictures for our interior design. Now, it would serve as our murder board.

I’d cut out portraits of Winston and Samantha from the newspaper. They went on top.

Underneath, I drew a long line. “Approximate time of death, around midnight.” I marked the hour. “Body discovered: Approximately 8am.” I marked that too. “What else can we be sure of?”

Adriana chimed in. “Cause of death: Poison.”

“There’s still a question mark over that conclusion.” Still, I wrote it on one side. “Last seen alive by Chipper around -“ I paused. “We have no clue when he spotted Winston.”

My great-great-aunt grinned from ear to ear. “We do alright.”

I was perplexed. “He didn’t say.”

“He did, just before we left.”

That must have been after she’d severed our physical connection. I let her have that win. “Please enlighten me.”

“He said he was still gnawing on his bone when the lights went out.” She tapped her nose.

“I’m in the dark as well,” I admitted.

“The new energy saving scheme!”

I’d forgotten all about that. The city council in its great wisdom had decided to spare the coffers by pitching most of Cobblewood Cove into darkness once the clock had struck eleven. Since the Darling Villa was close enough to the heart of downtown, we kept our street illumination once the sun set.

“Did Chipper notice anything after that? Maybe a flashlight or a car driving off?” My spirits rose a little. If there were any signs of life once the deed was done, it would be a strong point in Samantha’s favor.

Adriana shrugged. “He was tired, so he took a nap.”

“At least we can pinpoint when Winston arrived.” I marked 11pm on my timeline, only to throw down my erasable pen in frustration. “That’s as much as we can tell with any certainty.”

We needed assistance. Pumping our human sources for information was overdue. Normally, Hank would have been our first point of call. Jolene only needed to ask him a question, and her cousin would oblige.

In this case, with her bar one of the focal points of the whole mess, his superiors would keep him on a short leash. Also, we didn’t want to get him into any trouble. Plus there was our promise to his partner to keep in mind.

I sent a message. Tilda agreed to come around after her shift.

To keep myself busy, I tackled the painting for Jolene. First, I had to remove the layer of grime that covered every square inch.

No wonder exhibitions at the museum took a lot of preparation, if every single item had to be inspected, cleaned, and in some cases carefully restored.

I loved the first five minutes of the job. Cotton buds and Q-Tips drenched in a cleaning solution showed off rewards when underneath a dark corner the tip of a peacock feather appeared in glorious detail. Cue to minute six, and my fingers started to cramp. I gritted my teeth. After all, my pain was for a good cause.

During the next hour, I revealed the head of the painted girl from the crown of her hair plus the feather in her headband, down to the pencil-line eyebrows.

“Isn’t this the bee’s knees?” Adriana admired the painted girl, in all her as yet untouched and thus smudged beauty.

I rubbed my arm.

“It’s also painful on my muscles.”

“Applesauce. You’re doing splendidly. All you need is a little distraction.” She copied the pose of the girl, with one leg in the air, ready to dance the night away. “This calls for Jeeves.”

I switched on one of the audiobooks, chuckling to myself.

Adriana had a knack for accents, and her “splendidly” had sounded remarkably like P. G. Wodehouse’s amiable but not overly bright Bertram Wooster.

I carried on with my work while the dulcet upper crust tones of Bertie and that most famous of gentlemen’s gentleman entertained us. I wondered what the inimitable Jeeves, who spend his days saving the day, would have made of our case.

When I put my tools aside, the painting shone in vivid greens and blues, and the girl seemed ready to jump off the wood. I noticed a few chips, but with a little luck and a lot of care, I’d be able to retouch them.

The painted flapper had a long strand of pearls slung twice around her neck. A bracelet and dangling earrings sparked a flurry of inspirations. I needed a break from the cleaning, and there were still more jewelry items to create.

Unless Samantha was arrested again, people would flock to her infamous store to see the scene of the crime and the notorious murder suspect. They’d also be only too happy to part with money for a souvenir. If it came in the shape of protective rings and pendants, I wouldn’t complain.

18.

I measured and cut the stones into shapes connected in folklore with positive energy and power. Simple designs would work best.

At least I hoped so. I had no time to come up with intricate drawings that needed new molds. Those were first made out of wax and, once I had every detail finished to perfection, recast in rubber. Melting the 925 silver I worked with was one of the last steps before I’d add the stones.

Although I used existing molds, each piece would be unique. I’d make tiny changes while the silver was still soft and malleable.

Adriana lounged against my work bench. Although she couldn’t physically get in my way, we’d had a few incidents where I dropped a mold or a tool when she moved too close.

Tilda found me smoothing a piece of black jasper intended for a pendant. The silver setting needed several rounds of polishing before it would gleam.

“Cute stone,” she said. “My abuela had one like it. She swore it protected her all the way on the dangerous voyage from Cuba when she was little.”

“It’s supposed to ward off negative energy. What became of it?”

“My aunt in Florida inherited Abuela’s things. It was only fair, my mom said, because her older sister took care of her for years. Although the way things are in Cobblewood Cove, I wouldn’t mind having a bit of protection.” She touched the stone with one fingertip.

“Do you believe in the spiritual world?” I asked

Tilda shuffled her feet. “So what? Most in my family have experienced things they couldn’t explain.”

“I’m not trying to make fun of you,” I said. “Pinkie swear.” I ushered her to my apartment.

The murder board was now hidden away in my bedroom. When Tilda had asked for my assistance, we thought we dealt with vandalism and sick pranksters. I couldn’t be sure she’d encourage meddling in a murder case.

“Give her the pendant,” Adriana said. “She’ll rest a lot easier.”

I gave her a tiny nod. I only needed to finish the piece and figure out a way to make Tilda accept a gift without worrying about appearances. As a police officer, it must be hard to distinguish between accepting a present from a friend and taking a potential bribe.

She plumped down in the chair. “This is the first chance I’ve had all day to rest for a spell.”

“So bad?”

“The phone’s been ringing off the hook at the station.”

“Witnesses?”

“Hah, if only. That’s what makes it worse. There’s not a single soul who’s seen Winston or his car on his final way. It’s over a mile from his home to Samantha’s.”

“But his car must have been parked outside?”

“It was still in his own garage. There’s at least half a dozen people now who’d take an oath that he was spirited away from his own home and transported to Bell’s Books and Candles.”

Adriana guffawed. “Horsefeathers.”

“That’s crazy,” I said. “Couldn’t Missy shine any light on his movements?”

“All she could say for sure is that he watched the sports channel when she went to her bedroom.”

“They don’t - didn’t - share a room?”

“She says it’s the only thing that keeps people married. She’d have her sleep tea while he had his energy smoothie. It was one of their little rituals. Missy swears by the stuff. She said she was out like a light, half an hour after finishing her beverage.”

“Do you think she was drugged?” Adriana asked.

I repeated her words.

“I don’t think so. She showed me the tin. It’s from Bell’s Book and Candle, and Samantha drinks the same herbal mixture.”

“What about the woman? The one with the striped hair?” Adriana rubbed her hands in glee.

“Are you positive there were no witnesses?”

Tilda frowned. “Absolutely. You only have to sneeze twice in this town and a dozen people will drop by to bring you chicken noodle soup. In this case, we haven’t heard a single peep.”

“That’s what I call suspicious. Stripey-head must have bumped him off,” Adriana declared.

“And you still have no clue how the killer entered and left the scene of the crime?”

“None whatsoever. The only thing in Samantha’s favor is the fact that Jolene’s Toast of the Town also had a visitor who did the same.” She gave me a weary look. “There might be dark forces at play after all.”

“Even if there were, why would they target Winston? It’s Eileen who’s frothing at the mouth at the very idea of sinfulness in our midst.”

“So he couldn’t leave? He had a folded brochure for a sailing holiday in his coat pocket.”

“I don’t believe it. He was poisoned, wasn’t he? It would have been much more impressive to strike him with a bolt from the sky, in full view of the public.”

“Unless the killer was only a vessel. Which leads us back to Samantha.”

“What motive would she have had?”

“A possessed person doesn’t need one.” Tilda caught my stare. “I don’t believe that either, at least in this case, but some do. And the bosses are getting mighty jumpy. Any moment reporters from the big city could pick up on the story.” She heaved herself off the chair.

“Tell her about the woman,” Adriana said.

I intended to, once I’d figure out how to bring it up without mentioning that word-of-mouth came courtesy of a dog. “Did Winston at least die instantly? It’s too awful to imagine him thrashing and crying for help.”

Tilda made the sign of the cross. “Don’t say that. I’m sure he was unconscious, after he knocked himself out when he fell onto a piece of furniture. We haven’t got the lab results back yet.”

Adriana nudged me. “Tell her.”

I took a deep breath. “Aren’t there a few families living further down the road from Samantha’s? I vaguely remember a woman and her old dad.”

“The DeKalbs?” Tilda whistled through her teeth. “I might pay them a visit tomorrow. He spends most days and evening watching through the windows. That’s all he can do after his stroke. Wendy had to quit her job to take care of him. Now that I think of it, it’s funny that she hasn’t called us to ask about the case.”

“Why would that be?”

“She used to work in his office for years. That is peculiar.”

I winked at Adriana. Tilda had her information, and she was too busy digesting it to wonder about my source.

“Stop twiddling your thumbs,” Adriana told me as I stood musing in front of the murder board.

“I’m thinking.”

“You could have fooled me.”

I threw down the marker. “Our problem is that we don’t know what we’re looking for.”

Adriana arched her eyebrows. “I thought we’re hunting a murderer? Unless Samantha’s guilty after all. Then all we have to do is search for a bit of proof, and like that, no more Madame Blanche.” She shuddered at the very mention of that dreaded person.

“Sure, but the big question is, are we dealing with one big crime spree or did the killer take advantage of the vandals?”

“What difference does it make to our investigation?”

I basked in the rare feeling of superiority. Life with my great-great-aunt had shown me that quick wit ran in the family. To be a whole step ahead of my esteemed relative was therefore a moment to be savored.

Cleo thought otherwise. She tapped me gently on the shin, with her claws sheathed.

“It’s the motive. What do all these things have in common?” I wrote them down as I spoke. “A stink bomb and a blocked toilet in the library. Rotten apples outside the grocers’. A broken window and later, a pentagram and smashed lamps at the Toast of the Town. All annoying, but not exactly earth-shattering. And then, a man lays dead on the floor of a store that specializes in crystals, tarot, and herbal remedies beloved by people interested in the spiritual and white witchcraft.”

“I see.” Adriana stalked around the room in a pretend trance. An inch from my face, she stopped. “If we know why, we’ll know who.”

“Pretty much.” I took up my marker again. “Possible intended outcomes: Ruin Samantha’s store by linking it to black magic. But why?”

Adriana took over. “Second possibility: Stop Jolene from opening the Toast of the Town. Much more likely, considering the lack of success that blister Eileen has had with her petition. If we hadn’t bucked her up, Jolene might already have thrown in the towel.”

“I can’t blame her. She’s worked too hard to build up the hardware store to risk its reputation. It’s also kinda spooky, the way the perps managed to sneak into the building.”

“Same with Winston’s murder. If Samantha tells the truth, it’s the perfect locked-room mystery.”

“What baffles me is, why him?”

“Why indeed?” We both read through my writings. Inspiration did not hit.

So, we followed the only avenue of pursuit open to us and turned to a classic movie. “The Lady Vanishes” seemed apt, although in our case we were looking for clues how the culprits had appeared in the first place.

***

The morning dawned as dull as my investigative skills. I’d hoped for a breakthrough in my sleep. It had eluded me. Instead, I’d dreamed that I battled Madame Blanche for her crystal ball, in which she’d trapped my great-great-aunt.

Adriana hadn’t fared much better. She languished on the day bed while I forced myself to eat a slice of toast. It eased the gnawing sensation in my stomach.

Maybe the idea of hamstringing the medium or psychic or whatever she called herself wasn’t the worst idea, if only to stop me from going prematurely gray.

“I’m off to do some snooping,” I told Adriana. “Do you want to tag along or would you rather rest? You’re still a bit pale.”

She lifted her head off the pillow and narrowed her eyes at me. “Did Sherlock let Watson venture out alone? And what about Nick and Nora, or when Bertie is without Jeeves?” I drew myself up to my full height and attempted to stare haughtily down nose. She giggled.

“I’ll let it slide for once that you think I’m remotely like Bertie Wooster,” I said before I giggled, too.

A little silliness was just what the doctor ordered for both of us.

I armed myself with two adjustable rings, three sets of earrings, and three pendants. They were all the pieces I’d been able to finish. The black jasper I reserved for Tilda. For Jolene, I’d keep the stylized Eye of Horus earrings that I’d modeled after my own.

The rest would hopefully pave my way to prise vital information from the mouth of babes, or rather gossips.

***

“Genie, how sweet of you.” Miss Lulu clasped me to her ample bosom before she switched her gold hoop earrings for my teardrop shaped creation. She admired herself in the mirror. “Aren’t you clever! These make me feel like a million bucks.”

“It’s the inset crystals,” I said. “I’ve used aquamarine. It’s been used for centuries to ward off evil spirits, and it’s supposed to lift your mood and give you new energy. So useful, when you’re on your feet all day.”

“Isn’t that the sweetest, most thoughtful gift! I can tell you, I was dreading getting out of bed this morning. The idea of having to wait and wait until that Madame Blanche can cast out whatever evil spirit’s haunting Cobblewood Cove was almost too much to bear. Only the thought of my customers kept me going.” She touched the earrings. “I can feel them protecting me already.”

“I’m happy to hear that. This town needs you and your magical fingers. Wasn’t that Wendy DeKalb you transformed a few days ago?” I added the last bit oh, so casually. Chipper’s description surely fit the woman I’d seen in the salon, and so did her worry about leaving her pa for too long.

“What a memory you’ve got. Bless her, it took her forever to treat herself for once. But once we mature ladies get going, there’s no stopping us. She told me she’d wanted to take up sailing, if she could sort out a carer for her parent.”

“Sailing,” Adriana repeated. So far she’d spent our visit studying the poster with different hairstyles, indubitably comparing them to her own pale golden waves.

I touched my low ponytail. This, or a messy bun, were my go-to styles. Maybe I should take a page out of Adriana’s grooming book. She’d been stunning alive, and she still was in her present form.

She peeked out of the store window. “We need to go, right away.”

A new customer saved me an excuse for my hurried exit.

On the other side of the town square, I caught a glimpse of a police uniform. Tilda Ramos was out and about and ours to interrogate. We dashed across the road.

“Jaywalking?” Tilda wagged her finger at me.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to miss you.” I fished out a velvet pouch with the pendant. I’d fastened it on a leather string with a toggle. “Happy belated birthday.”

She peeked into the pouch. “I’m not sure I’m allowed —“

“Of course you are. I’m sure your abuela would say the same. Especially since black jasper is supposed to bring you good luck when you go into a mental or legal battle. Like, in an investigation when you go have a chat with the DeKalbs.” I twinkled at her. “If you keep it at night next to a potted plant, it’ll discharge negative energies.”

Tilda slung her gift around her neck and slid it underneath her shirt. “Fingers crossed. Although the DeKalb’s were a bust.”

“Oh?”

“Poor Mr DeKalb. All those nights sitting there by the window, hoping for a bit of excitement, and when it happens, it’s the one night he’s dropped off early.” She creased her forehead. “I hope he’s not deteriorating. He said he’s been feeling drowsy more often lately.”

“And his daughter?”

“Didn’t hear or see anything. When her dad falls asleep, she retires.”

“And I’m the Empress of China. If Chipper says he saw her, then she was there,” Adriana muttered.

“Did you believe her? This whole case is littered with early sleepers,” I said to the police woman.

“You think she lied to me, in an official interview?” Tilda asked.

“She wouldn’t be the first.”

Tilda stemmed her hands on her hips. “Then how about we see about that right away. Wendy DeKalb just left the grocery store.”

True enough, the woman trudged through the door, with a brown paper bag clutched in her arms. If ever I’d seen a spring-less step, it was this one.

“One moment, Ms DeKalb.” Tilda barred her way.

“Yes, Officer?” Wendy’s eye twitched so badly I spotted it from twenty yards away.

I’d decided to keep my distance. There was no need for our subject to lump me in with the police.

My trusty sidekick (I definitely was the Sherlock of the Darling detectives, which made my great-great-aunt the Watson in our set-up) had already flitted to Wendy’s side.

I heard Tilda say, “Do you have anything to add to your earlier statement? Or amend your version of the night in question?”

The eye twitch worsened. A bag with marshmallows fell out of the bag.

“You weren’t at home after all,” Tilda said.

“Boy, oh boy,” my great-great-aunt called out as Wendy squealed and legged it to her car.

Tilda dashed off in hot pursuit, only to be stopped by a bunch of kids on scooters while Wendy drove away.

I joined her. “She won’t get far.”

Tilda smirked. “My first promising lead. At least it’s something if I have to explain my lack of progress with the other crimes.”

“I haven’t forgotten that I promised you my help with that.”

19.

Adriana and I let Tilda go about her police business. We had more jewelry to deliver.

“Watch your step,” Jolene shouted as I crossed the threshold of Butler’s Pantry. In the background, a sander screeched.

I paused with one foot lifted in the air. In front of me lay a metal bar the exact shade as the floor. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

Like the others, Jolene showed herself delighted with my present. “I’ll wear them for the grand opening of the Toast of the Town. I’ve decided on a date, the weekend after Halloween.”

“Yes!” Adriana tried to join in as we high-fived each other. I felt a warm tingle as her fingers brushed mine.

“The dress code will be Roaring Twenties. I’m having a ravishing gown made that’s straight out of a movie set. Matt promised he’d sweep you off your feet in a dinner jacket and a top hat.”

“You’re blushing,” Adriana said to me.

I pretended not to hear. “That’s very short notice.”

“I only decided last night. If I leave it too long, heaven knows what attempts there will be to derail me, including wrecking the party clothes. Felix brought that up.”

“Now she’s blushing,” Adriana declared.

“You finally settled everything, I hope.” My great-great-aunt and I had toyed with the idea that nabbing Felix might have been another possibility for the joker’s motive, only to dismiss it as too far-fetched. Gifted as Felix was, there were other pianists for hire.

“He’s working on his set list already. You’ll love it, it’s going to be full of swing and jazz and ragtime.”

The noise from the sander stopped. A workman called out, “We’re done for today.”

She called back, “See you tomorrow.”

“Aren’t you still worried?” I asked her.

Jolene’s jaw set in a firm line. “Of course I am. But I won’t be intimidated. As of tonight, I’ll camp out at the Toast of the Town. Whoever plans to play another dirty trick, will have to deal with me.”

“Let’s join her. We’ll catch the bad guys red-handed, and all will be swell.” Adriana pressed her hands on her heart. “What about Cleo?”

“Excuse me?” Jolene shook her head in confusion.

Without hesitation, I said, “I was just thinking, I’ll keep you company. We can take turns as lookout, if I can figure out the cat issue.”

“You spoil that kitty.”

“She’s family.”

“Fair enough. I’ve got to warn you. You’re more than welcome to help me guard my building, but all I have to offer are camping beds and a few duvets.”

“I’ll live. Which reminds me, do you have any idea why Wendy DeKalb would lie to the police about being in the area when Winston arrived at his final destination?”

“No! Really?”

I mimed zipping my lips. “Looks like it.”

Jolene peered through the door to the back, to check for eavesdroppers. There were none. The builder appeared to have downed tools and sped away.

“Rumors has it, when Wendy DeKalb left Winston’s employment, the unspoken reason was that she harbored a not too secret infatuation with her boss. He gave her a glowing reference, two months’ payment, and wiped his brow in relief. So did Missy. She did her best to encourage Wendy to join singles’ groups for dating. That was before old DeKalb became incapacitated.”

I put two and two together. “What if that old flame had never been snuffed out? Here we have a middle-aged woman practically shackled to her home, who suddenly treats herself to a new hairstyle and color, and talks about sailing when the object of her unrequited love has the same interest? Add to that the interesting fact that her father suddenly goes from being awake and watching the neighborhood half the night to nodding off early.”

“Jeez.”

“I might be wrong,” I said.

“Or maybe not. Winston would’ve trusted her. Let’s say, for argument’s sake, he somehow had a key to Samantha’s store. Maybe she gave him one for safe-keeping, or he knew where she hid her spare. It was a freezing night. All Wendy had to do was to appear , all miserable. He’d have come to the rescue, as any real gentleman would.”

“He could have taken her inside, offered her a drink or she had a bottle with her. And when she told him she loved him, and he rejected her, she snapped.”

“But why would she carry poison? And how did she escape without anyone noticing?” Jolene asked.

“There’s the snag.” I sighed.

Jolene patted my back. “You’ll work it out. I’d hate to see Wendy guilty, but we’d all feel safer. And it would shut up Eileen once and for all.” She gave me a shrewd glance. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if she turned out to be the sick mastermind behind the haunted house?”

“Do you think they’d let her keep that clipboard in the slammer?” Adriana did a quick-step.

I had to admit, the idea of being free of that meddlesome woman had its allure. “She’s a pain in the backside. The question is, does she or her coven have the imagination to come up with these bizarre ideas? She appears to be all primness and self-righteous indignation.”

“A mother hen who’d love to keep her only chick cooped up, and the rooster too.” Adriana flapped her arms and clucked.

Jolene said, “If you really want to come for a sleep-over, bring ice-cream, and I’ll supply the rest. Then we can discuss things all night long.”

20.

On Adriana’s insistence, I added her Feng Shui notes compiled by her personal assistant, aka me, and two cushions from the day bed to our luggage.

I also packed my bottle of Chanel number 5. It had been her mom’s favorite perfume, and a spritz of it perked my great-great-aunt up in stressful hours. That would have to do, to keep her spectral life force strong, in spite of spooky threats.

Samantha’s apartment lay in darkness, but in the store, a chink of light shone through a spot on the window where she’d missed to cover it with white-out cream.

I rang the doorbell and knocked. “Hello? It’s Genie Darling.” The key screeched as Samantha unlocked the door. “Come in, quick.” She peeked over my shoulder and shut the door as fast as she could. “Did you see any reporters?”

“No. Have they been pestering you?”

“Nonstop. I stopped answering the phone, unless it’s the police.”

I lined up the remaining pieces of jewelry. “If you decide to reopen to customers, you could use these as samples for a bespoke collection.”

She pushed the rings around. “I’m such a coward. I should be yearning to return back to normal, but to tell you the truth, I’m scared. Scared of thrill-seekers and gossips, who only want to see where he died, scared of people who think I did it and want to meet a murderess, and most of all I’m scared that whoever killed him will come back for me.”

Adriana measured the storeroom, counting her steps.

Samantha hugged herself. “I’m silly.”

“Not at all. Finding a dead body is bad enough. Stumbling over a murdered friend is awful. It’ll take a while, even after the police have arrested the killer.”

“Thanks. I needed to hear that. And I have your crystals. I placed a huge urgent order, so I have all the stones I need to fight off negative energy.” She pointed at her shelves where crystals and carved animals were placed near the corners of the room.

“She’s done a decent job, except for the owl. It needs to face outwards,” Feng Shui guru Adriana said. “If we do a smudging and bell-ringing ritual, we should be good.”

I picked up the little owl and placed it according to my great-great-aunt’s instructions.

Samantha took a box with my crystals out of an apothecary cupboard.

“Ask her about the ritual,” Adriana insisted.

I did.

The flicker of a smile appeared on Samantha’s face. “I’ve got dried sage, for when I feel grounded enough to go through with the smudging. I’d have to step over the spot where Winston - where I found him.”

“The poor gal. Tell her not to worry, we’ll take care of it,” Adriana declared.

“We?” I mouthed.

“I’ll guide you. We need sage, cedar, and sweetgrass. Lots of sweetgrass. And the silver bell she had in the store window when we first visited.”

Samantha didn’t bat an eyelid at my request.

Adriana purred with delight when cardboard boxes full of dried herbs appeared. “That’s enough to do Jolene’s place too. We’ll start there.”

Since I had no clue how long a room clearing and the rest of the rituals would take, I offered Samantha our help in the morning, after a test run at the Toast of the Town.

“I’d appreciate that,” she said. “I can do with all the positive energy we can collect before Madame Blanche holds her séance in this very room.”

“Here?” Why did my voice croak? I swallowed hard. “She’s coming here?”

“All Hallows Eve, at sunset. You’re coming too, I hope?”

My heart beat so hard against my ribs it hurt. “She might be a fraud. Most of them are.”

“I checked her credentials. She seems to be the real deal. I’ve got to try, Genie, if only to save my reputation.”

“Of course.” I bagged crystals, herbs, and the bell.

Adriana whimpered. I felt like whimpering too.

21.

At the Toast of the Town, things were looking up slightly. Jolene had converted the storage room and the dressing room cum cloak room into two separate sleeping spaces, each with a foldable camp bed and a thick mattress.

While I arranged the cushions against the wall, the way Adriana liked it, my great-great-aunt admired the Hollywood-style vanity mirror with its rows of lightbulbs. I placed perfume, herbs, and bell on top of the dresser.

From the kitchen came an enticing smell. Jolene had done this room first. While she aimed to stay as true to the original speakeasy as possible, she’d completely remodeled the kitchen. A double-sized fridge-freezer filled an alcove, together with a large wine fridge. A gleaming stove and oven and a butcher’s block island wouldn’t have looked out of place in a fancy restaurant. The floorboards she’d replaced with easy to clean art déco style tiles.

She laid the table for two. “I hope you like hot dogs and Boston beans.”

“Perfect.”

The food tasted as good as it looked.

Adriana sniffed the air like a bloodhound, to fill up, ghost-style. Her skin glowed and her eyes shone. The sense of evil that had haunted her seemed to have vanished.

I brought up the Feng Shui practice my relative set such great store by, when we touched into bowls with Toasty Treats, a gelato flavor using maple syrup and pecans. Adriana had thought it up exclusively for Jolene’s new venture. It melted on the tongue with just the right mix of creamy sweetness and a bit of bite.

Jolene swooned. “When I’ve finished this, I’m ready to battle anything. Smudge away!”

We decided to start with the smallest rooms, where we’d rest our weary heads tonight. I considered it as a rehearsal of sorts, with Adriana as the puppet master and me, well, technically the puppet. In every relationship there had to be give and take, so why shouldn’t she be giving out orders for once?

A few minutes later I remembered why. Because she lacked my keen insights into the small details that made such a change to one’s comfort, like being able to breathe without problems. I’d lit a mixed bundle of sweetgrass, sage, and cedar. According to Feng Shui principles these herbs would get rid of negative energy and thoughts as well as ill spirits and provide purity.

“Now, blow out the flame and hold a ceramic bowl underneath, to catch any embers,” Adriana said. The bowl part was easy. I’d taken a pudding dish from the kitchen. The blowing out part worked surprisingly fine as well.

“And now you cup the smoke with your hand and push it around the room. Start with the upper left hand corner.”

My head spun around as fast and far as possible without causing lasting damage to my neck. Left hand from where? The door? The wall?

“Here.” Adriana pointed in one corner.

If she’d acted faster, I might have saved myself the handful of smoke that hit me in the face. I breathed in a lungful and coughed. Tears streamed out of my left eye as I sputtered. I wiped my elbow across my face.

“Are you alright, Genie?” Jolene handed me a tissue.

Adriana signaled me to continue.

“I’m good,” I said. “I forgot to work out my bearings before I started, that’s all. My sense of direction is useless.” With the smoldering herbs in the bowl, I continued the process.

“Push harder,” Adriana said. “You need to cover every inch.”

I flicked my wrist.

“Clockwise,” she said. “Honestly, this should be super simple. My magazine said so.”

“I think I’ve got the hang of it,” Jolene said. “I’ll take over and you can go have a wash.”

I caught a glimpse of myself in the Hollywood mirror. Soot gave a whole new meaning to the term smoky eye. To be on the safe side, I repeated Adriana’s instructions, and we watched Jolene smudge her way along one wall.

The trip to the bathroom allowed me to restore my natural beauty and to have a very short, very to the point discussion about what I needed exactly from my spectral sidekick.

I let Jolene finish our respective bedrooms. She did a much better job than me, but then she had the right kind of training.

She hesitated when I suggested we take care of the big room next. “It’s stupid, but I feel a little light-headed from the smoke.”

“We’ll open the windows in the restrooms and leave the doors to the room open,” I suggested. “I can’t imagine anyone messing around while the lights are on.” Also, those two windows had thick iron bars outside. “We’ll use the bell for the main rooms.”

Jolene had removed all signs of the pentagram. Still, I felt cold as I moved closer to the spot.

I scolded myself. I was imagining things. With Adriana by my side, I stepped into where the center of the chalk drawing had been and rang the bell with my right hand. “Listen.” I rang it again. “What do you hear?”

Jolene pondered my question. “It sounds a bit muffled.”

My great-great-aunt flashed a 100-watt grin. “She’s a wiz at this.”

I believed them, although my ears were less attuned to the distinctions. I’d heard a silvery tone, nothing more, nothing less.

“The muffled sound means an energy blockage,” Adriana prompted me.

“There’s stale energy around us,” I said. “To clear the room, we again move clockwise and ring the bell while we feel the energy with our left hand.”

“That’s all?”

“That, and repeating positive affirmations. When the bell is ringing out sweet and true, the energy is balanced again and the negative influences have gone.”

Together, we circled the room and said over and over again, “Let there be nothing but lightness and harmony in this room, in this building, and in the hearts of everyone who comes here.” The text of the affirmation had been Adriana’s idea.

Jolene’s left hand moved up and down as she weighed the energy. She shook the silver bell. “I hear a difference, and the air feels changed as well. I think it really works.”

I expected Adriana to take a victory leap. After all, the whole smudging and clearing process was down to her.

Yet she stood frozen, with an unhappy frown marring her features. “Something’s off. Really off.”

“Bathroom break,” I called out to Jolene, while signaling my great-great-aunt to follow me. I ran the tap in the sink to cover up our chat. “What do you mean, off?”

“The place looks different.”

“What do you expect, after almost a century? It’s not a museum.”

She stomped her foot. “It’s important. I can feel it.”

“Are you sure? I thought you’d only been here on a couple of occasions during your lifetime.” I clapped my hand over my mouth as I saw her hurt expression. Not only had I rubbed it in that she was a ghost and only loosely connected to the present. Worse, I’d also doubted her near photographic memory. “Forget what I said. How about you inspect every nook and cranny and I have Jolene explain her plans for the opening.”

She gave me a curt nod.

I’d done a great job upsetting her, on top of her existing worries. Darn. “Adriana?”

“Yes?”

“Look at this.” I did the grove walk, and a twist, and slide. “If you can teach me the Charleston, there’s nothing you can’t do. Including figuring out what bothers you about the Toast of the Town.” I closed the tap and groove-walked back to Jolene, to cheer my great-great-aunt up. It worked. She chuckled.

So did Jolene when she saw my smooth moves. “Can I hire you as an opening act?”

Adriana overheard this. She paused prowling the lounge area. “I’ve got an even better idea. It’ll knock your socks of.” She winked at me and sashayed away, with no further explanation.

“It’s only a few Charleston steps,” I said, not committing to anything.

“We could have you up on the stage. Matt is one heck of a dancer.” Jolene twinkled at me.

“Say yes. It’ll be a hoot.” Adriana floated off the ground, until her nose almost touched the chandelier.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Great. I’ll sort it out with my cousin. I really need this opening to make a splash, in the best possible way.”

Adriana landed on the floor and checked the ground in her best Sherlock manner. Only a deerstalker and pipe were missing from the picture.

“It will,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster.

“Gotcha.” Adriana pointed an accusing finger at the old piano that sat under covers, next to the stage. The instrument had come with the place. It would stay put until Jolene could be certain no intruder would smash up the state of the art piano she’d purchased.

Hmm. “That’s strange,” I said.

“What is?”

“Why isn’t the instrument damaged? It’s not popular knowledge that you have a superior piano lined-up?”

“Maybe Cobblewood Cove’s satanists like music? Or couldn’t be bothered with taking off the cover?” Jolene shrugged it off. I let it go, for now.

“Hello? I wasn’t finished,” Adriana said. I gave her an encouraging nod. “The whole orchestra belongs on the stage. The hoofers would be in front of them, and then there was a corridor separating the dancers and the tables. It was about two yards wide. The bar was at the end, where it is now.” She draped herself across the piano and stared at the chandelier.

I waited.

My great-great-aunt changed positions until she lay on her stomach. She propped up her chin in her hands. “Genie, I need you.”

Casually, I strolled over to her.

She chanted. “I spy with my little eye - the raised stage.”

So did I.

She swung herself off the piano and squatted on the ground, running her hands over the edge of the platform which stood at a foot high. “You need to do this.”

“What am I looking for?” I whispered.

“When my sister and her Tommy picked me up from here, Belle was all in a flap that the joint might be raided. Tommy told her we’d be dandy because there was a second escape, apart from the door with the painting. There should be a lever that makes the stage swing around, with a tunnel underneath. See how the platform is shaped like a shell, without touching the walls at the side?”

The back of my neck tingled. I grabbed my trusty flashlight. Since Adriana had proved that she had a powerful connection to electricity, I never went without a source of light, in case my relative accidentally caused a blackout.

“What are you doing?” Jolene asked.

“Remembering a few facts about speakeasies. Some used to have secret exits.”

Jolene dropped to her knees. “That would explain how the intruder entered and left without any signs of a break-in.”

“Can you spot anything?” I shone the flashlight on the wooden panels.

“Wait.” Jolene deflated. “If there was an escape route, the town’s elite wouldn’t have been arrested in the famous raid in 1929.”

“That was the funniest part,” Adriana said. “On top of the side door being blocked, everything else went haywire. One of the sugar daddies wanted to impress his doll so badly, he ordered a crate of champagne. The waiter put it down in the wrong place to go and fetch glasses, that it blocked the lever. Just when the police bust through the doors.”

I gave Jolene Adriana’s version while I prodded every inch of the blasted panels. “Ouch.” I sucked my finger where I’d caught it on a bit of metal, thanking my diligence when it came to tetanus shots.

Jolene took the flashlight from me. “There is something, like a button or small lever. It’s the same color as the wood. It must have been varnished to blend in.”

“Great.” I dashed to clean and disinfect my wound.

When I returned, Jolene sat on the floor, with one hand on her heart and the other on the lever. She pulled it away. “You do the honors. It’s your discovery.”

Adriana put her hand over mine. “One, two, three.”

The stage platform swung into action, like a well-oiled machine. Slowly, it moved to the side, far enough to reveal a hatch. Castor wheels and metal tracks explained the ease of movement.

Jolene touched the tracks. “Lubricant, lots of it.”

“That proves it’s been used recently.”

She clutched the hatch handle. The door wouldn’t budge. She tried harder. Her veins bulged. I joined in. Together we pulled with all our might.

“It’s useless,” I panted, out of breath.

“Step aside.” Adriana sank into the metal.

Jolene reached for the lever.

“Don’t.” I stopped her before she could hit it. My great-great-aunt was now only visible up to her waist and the thought of observing her being hit by the revolving stage churned my stomach. Some things hurt me much more than they hurt her, even if only in my imagination.

I pretended to try pulling again. Then I coughed. “Do you have tea or a lemon for hot lemon water? My throat’s a little sore.”

Jolene bustled off.

Adriana was gone now. I held my breath and clasped the piece of brick from the Darling villa I kept in my jeans pocket. That, and my presence, had to be enough for Adriana to rise through the metal again.

But why, oh why did it take so long?

Clammy sweat trickled down my brow when her head reappeared. The rest of her followed as slow as molasses.

“Genie?” I gave a start as our hostess tapped me on the shoulder. “I’ve called you twice. Tea’s ready.”

“Thanks.” I sipped the beverage with surprising pleasure. My throat did feel better, although in all likelihood the smoke I’d inhaled in my smudging attempts had been to blame.

“What do we do now?” Jolene’s question echoed Adriana’s.

“If only we had any idea why the hatch won’t open,” I said.

“Have three guesses.” Adriana smoothed her silk dress over her hips.

“Do you reckon it could be bolted?” I pondered aloud.

“Close enough. It’s secured with a shiny big padlock.” My great-great-aunt fluttered her lashes.

Jolene perked up. “A bolt? If I use a circular saw, we’ll be able to solve that problem. I’ve got one at the store.”

Tempting as it was, and by now I was itching to see for myself, I shook my head. “There might be evidence that is destroyed, and if the intruder comes back, they’ll notice that the game’s up. There must be another way to figure out where the tunnel leads or if it’s a dead end.” I yawned. With all our activity, I’d barely noticed that midnight had struck a while ago.

“We’ll think about it in the morning.” I took one of the chairs with me, officially to use as a clothes horse. Unofficially, it would serve as Adriana’s resting place for tonight. While she didn’t technically sleep, she nevertheless needed a space of her own.

We’d shared a narrow bed once, and having a ghost in my face when I woke up wasn’t an experience I was keen to repeat. As much as I loved my relative, I preferred clear physical boundaries. “I could go and explore,” she said, when I was right on the edge of drifting off.

“Go?” The camp bed creaked as I jumped up.

“I would have done it straight away. Except you would have been in a state if I’d stayed out.” Her concern for me was touching. only I didn’t believe it for a single heartbeat.

Only one thing could stop Adriana from sleuthing - if something weakened her.

“You’re right I would’ve been in a flap,” I said. “And you don’t want me to panic now either, because if you get lost or hurt, I can’t come to your rescue.”

“But if you don’t want me to go and Jolene’s idea is out too, where does that leave us?”

I told her. There was no guarantee I’d hit the nail on the head, but anything risk-free to all of us was worth a try.

22.

The rest of the night passed without any incidents. We left Jolene after breakfast, with the promise to keep her updated once I’d put my notion to the test. While Jolene toiled away at the Toast of the Town, she should be safe from any attempts to frighten her away from her project.

Not that I expected anything to happen at all. Winston’s murder had ensured that the police would take any incident that had however remotely, to do with the block of buildings, or the supernatural, seriously.

I’d entrusted the smudging and clearing of Samantha’s store to Jolene. Her skills were a lot more impressive than mine.

Cleo allowed to let herself be rewarded for a night on her own with a bit of fresh salmon and quality time with my great-great-aunt.

My next steps were easier without her. Adriana became restless when bored, and searching for hours through the archived newspapers at the library qualified for boredom in capital letters.

Over breakfast I’d studied the blueprints and documentation Missy had given me. If they’d been complete, I might have already had my answers. Still, they confirmed what Adriana had told me about the layout.

***

Daphne extricated herself from a group of nursery kids and their teachers who listened with wide-eyed wonder to Primrose Schuyler reading them a story about a parrot. Her sister mimed out the actions with a hand-puppet that resembled Petey so much I suspected they’d hired an artist for the job.

Eileen and one of her minions perched on the edge of a cushioned bench, no doubt watching out for the story devolving into sinister stuff, like the parrot parroting a naughty word.

The head librarian settled me in her office. “Best to keep a low profile,” she said. “What brings you here?”

“I need the 1929 volume of the local paper.”

While I waited for her return, I read the notices on her pin board. A few hand drawn cat and dog pictures took place of pride, together with a rough schedule for the soon to be opened free animal clinic. Next to it, she’d pinned a list of names. It included all the usual suspects - with Genie Darling on top.

Daphne pushed the book trolley with a dozen bound volumes into the room. She tossed me a pair of gloves and slipped her hands into a pair herself.

Noticing me studying the list, she said, “You’re so good at calming animals and figuring out what’s wrong with them, we thought, that is, Grayson, thought, you’d be perfect as a volunteer. If you’re not too busy.”

“I’d love to help.” More importantly, Adriana would love to. Having a resident pet-whisperer on call had its perks. That is, if she was still around.

I snapped on the gloves. Time was desperately short before Madame Blanche or a church exorcist descended upon us to threaten Adriana’s existence. “I’m searching for references to the speakeasy and neighboring buildings.”

Daphne cleaned her spectacles. “That’ll take us forever.”

“Not necessarily. I hope that there’ll be lots of articles dealing with the raid.” The police operation had embarrassed several of the most prominent citizens and led to arrests, headlines that couldn’t be suppressed, and court appearances. We each took a volume.

A gentle knock on the door interrupted us. Daphne opened it a couple of inches while I shrank back, out of sight, should Eileen be the caller.

“We’re finished for today,” Primrose said.

“Thanks, ladies.” Daphne closed the door. “The Schuylers are such sweethearts. They’ve found half a dozen retired folks who take turns reading to the children.”

“I assume Eileen is not part of the roster.”

“As long as she’s quiet and respectful and doesn’t go on the warpath, she’s entitled to use the library. I can’t blame her or others to be rattled these days. It’s one thing to deal with a few stupid pranks or a broken window. But murder?” She steepled her fingertips together. “Let me guess. Our research is connected to the case.”

“I hope so.”

“Good. A few of the little kids have already asked me if a witch or a ghost will catch them if they put out their jack o’ lanterns. They’re frightened.”

“And the parents?”

“Torn between accusing Samantha for every crime under the sun, or blaming the police, or telling the kids off for being fanciful.”

We fell silent. Only the rustling of the pages and muffled noises from the main library disturbed the peace.

“I’ve got a snippet,” Daphne exclaimed after what seemed like an eternity.

I rolled my cramped shoulders as I rose to read over her shoulders. “Upstanding members of the community had complained to the authorities about nightly disturbances, when deliveries to DeKalb’s Coffin and Casket Makers woke them from their well-earned rest. The neighborhood is already suffering under the existence of a store rumored to be used for other purposes at night.”

“Does it say the address?”

Daphne turned back the page, to an advert for the finest in funeral care in Cobblewood Cove, in co-operation with the funeral directors of two neighboring counties. The address was identical with Bell’s Books and Candles.

I snapped photographs of both pages. “You’re a star.”

“You’ve solved the mysteries?”

“With any luck, yes.”

23.

Adriana deserved to be included in the next step. I found her curled up with Cleo, listening to Josephine Baker. “Shall we?” I bowed to her.

“Lead the way, dear gumshoe.” She stroked Cleo. “We’ll bring you a new toy.”

“We will?”

“Of course. The other cats all have a catnip ball.”

“All of them?”

“At least a few. And Cleo’s been so patient while you’re living it up all over town.”

That description carried little resemblance to what I remembered doing, but I curbed my tongue. Both cat and ghost had been on their best behavior and we did leave Cleo alone much more often than she preferred.

Adriana slid down the banisters, hands-free and whooping. I opted for the conventional method of taking the staircase.

My great-great-aunt leaned back. “Don’t be a drip.”

I hopped onto the banister. Sliding down took me back to my childhood, although I clung on with my hands.

We barreled out of the house. One of the nice things about the size of Cobblewood Cove was that I could arrange meetings with most people at short notice. The downside was that clandestine get-togethers were harder to achieve, when everybody knew you.

I’d selected the hardware store to rendezvous with Tilda Ramos. Jolene had a quiet stock room that valued customers were allowed to enter. Having a police officer check with you on security installations offered the ideal cover, should people see us and remember my growing reputation as amateur sleuth.

It also allowed us to keep Jolene updated.

Adriana wrinkled her nose at the large selection of lethal looking saws, drills, and pruning shears.

I settled on the small desk Jolene kept in a corner.

Tilda arrived out of breath. “I need more exercise.”

“Did you run all the way?” Jolene asked.

“I didn’t want to take the patrol car, in case there’s a situation. It’s bad enough that I fibbed to Hank about having a special private errand.”

“We won’t keep you long,” I said. “What would you say if I tell you that there’s a tunnel underneath the Toast of the Town?”

Tilda whistled.

“Oh, it gets better. I have reason to believe that it’s connected to Samantha’s store, dating back to the prohibition era. Odds are that’s where the bootleggers delivered the hidden booze. After all, there were more than a few people up in arms against the devil alcohol in their midst, and it would have been crazy to drop off bottles and barrels directly at the speakeasy.”

“That makes sense,” Tilda said.

“The secret passage has been used recently, or at least prepared for use. That’s how my bar was broken into without a trace,” Jolene said.

“I figured it out.” Adriana beamed.

“There’s more. Have a guess what Bell’s Books and Candles was called in the 1920s? DeKalb’s Coffin and Casket Makers. Wendy didn’t just lie to you about her whereabouts the night of Winston’s murder, I think it’s pretty conclusive that she’d heard family stories about the tunnel and the bootlegging operation.”

Tilda grimaced.

“Are you telling me she’s still on the run from you?” I asked.

“No. She visited me last night, to come clean.” Tilda paused.

“Did she confess?” Adriana asked.

“She admitted to slipping her pa a mild sedative a couple of nights each week. But it had nothing to do with Winston Dooley. Wendy’s been seeing another man on the sly. She was afraid what people would think of her if she let it be known that she’d go out and leave her dad on his own.”

“You believe she told you the truth?”

“The man in question confirmed her alibi. There were also a few things of hers in his bedroom, which hints at a long-standing affair.”

Jolene raised her hand. “Wait a minute. You said, coffin makers. Eileen’s husband is in the funeral business. He could have been aware of the colorful past of undertaking in Cobblewood Cove.”

“It’s a possibility,” Tilda said.

I hesitated.

“I don’t think so,” Adriana said.

“Would you mind waiting a few hours before you inform the detectives about your discoveries?” I asked Tilda. “It’s worth finding out more about Samantha’s end of the tunnel.”

“A search without official warrant? That could cost me my job.”

“You won’t be involved, until we come up with something of interest, some hard evidence that’ll help you,” I assured her. “It’s possible that her side of the tunnel has since been bricked up or filled in.” Not likely, but possible.

“You’ll keep me informed?” Tilda flipped open her notepad and wrote down a few words. “Send me a message and I’ll take it from there.”

She’d come up with a few code phrases. “I’ll bring pizza = Nothing found.” “Table booked = needs further investigation.” “Your turn to cook = police action warranted.” I slipped the note into my pocket.

“Aren’t you going to burn it?” Jolene and Adriana had watched too many movies.

“What if I mix up the phrases and you bring the cavalry over nothing? That’s not going to aid your career,” I pointed out.

“I’ll memorize them,” Adriana said. She pressed her fingertips against her temples and hummed under her breath.

“Are you sure?” Her humming stopped and she gave me a withering glare.

“Do you have a match?” I asked Jolene. She handed me a lighter and a metal trash can. The flames should have devoured the paper in a bright flame. Instead, it took me three tries until the note had turned to ashes. No wonder charred but still readable fragments had become lore in crime stories.

Jolene opened the door, to let Tilda return to her duty. “Thank you for your advice, Officer Ramos,” she said in a nice, clear voice, for the sake of curious customers.

We left a few minutes after Tilda, armed with a few tools and a plan.

24.

“Chipper says the coast is clear.” The dog thumped his tail on the ground. Adriana had insisted on checking in with him. She whispered something in his ear.

He woofed.

“There’ve been a few strangers around, but Samantha’s barricaded herself inside her apartment. Bless him, he’s been keeping watch for us.”

Jolene peered around. “What are we doing here?”

The truth wasn’t an option, so I said, “I wanted to visualize the set-up of the three buildings.”

We had a quick look inside the Toast of the Town, where we’d pushed the piano so it blocked the moving mechanism and thus, entry from below. Everything was untouched.

I sent Samantha a message, to come down to her store and let me in. I positioned myself outside the store window, so I’d be visible through the chink. She peered over her shoulder as she opened the door.

We tiptoed inside. The store still held a whiff of the herbs Jolene had used for the smudging.

Nevertheless, even I felt a shift in the energy. How much of that had to do with the rituals and how much could be attributed to Samantha’s renewed sparkle was impossible to tell. Or it could have simply been my own conviction that the locked room mystery was about to be laid to rest.

Samantha had been busy since I last saw her the night before. The jewelry by Darling Designs gleamed on a black velvet tray in a glass cabinet, a new rug with a celestial pattern covered the area where Winston had taken his last breath, and a round table stood on top of it. “It’s the best I could come up with, in preparation for the séance,” she said when she noticed my interest.

The chalice which had held the fatal poison was missing from the scene. Presumably it now lived in the evidence locker at the police station. Otherwise, Samantha had kept all the objects present on the night in question.

Adriana had paled at the mention of the gathering, but that was the only sign she feared it.

Samantha eyed Jolene’s tool bag. “You mentioned you needed me.”

I observed her body language while I spoke my rehearsed words. “We’ve got a theory how the vandals managed to sneak into Jolene’s place when it was locked and bolted. The same could have happened here, in this very room.”

“Really?”

Was that genuine relief? I thought so. Now, to put it to the test. “There’s an underground tunnel that should come out —“ I stopped. If she had used the hatch, she’d look towards it, if only for a fraction of a heartbeat.

Jolene watched her too. Adriana, who had the most important role, stood ready to spring into action. She’d darted around, searching for clues to an opening underneath her feet.

“Where?” Samantha hadn’t so much as moved a muscle. Either she was an even better actress than Adriana, or the tunnel was news to her.

“Let’s find out.” Jolene wielded a multi-functional tool that told her if there was a hidden cavity or a steel door anywhere.

She’d offered me one as well. It looked like fun, and Adriana and I’d been tempted, but then we decided that Jolene deserved her own moment of triumph. She’d already dealt with enough setbacks and heartache lately.

Adriana tiptoed after her, while I shared a pot of peppermint tea with Samantha.

The search ended in the restroom. We inspected the tiles. It would have taken eagle eyes and a peculiar interest in the ground under one’s feet to notice a hair’s breadth crack. At the end of the hatch stood an old metal cabinet, bolted to the floor.

“Did that come with the store?” I asked.

Samantha confirmed it. “I use it to store my first aid kit and toilet paper.”

Inside, three shelves divided the storage space. The bottom one ended five inches above the floor.

Adriana peeked underneath and gave me a thumbs-up.

“Give me your flashlight,” I told Jolene. The lever was hidden at the very back. I pulled it, only to sense movement under me. I jumped up from my kneeling position.

A large square opened up half an inch, ending where the cabinet began.

Jolene probed the gap with a steel ruler. It clanged against another metallic object.

Without a single word, Adriana jumped in. Either this hatch was a lot thinner or she’d become more confident. In any case, she returned before I had a chance to worry. “It’s padlocked from underneath,” she said. “The same kind we found on the speakeasy side.”

Jolene used a snaking pipe with a tiny camera to inspect the set-up. “Shoot.”

I returned the lever to its original position. “What’s wrong?” Samantha asked. “You were right, there’s an easy way in and out without being seen.”

“Only it wouldn’t work,” Jolene said. “It’s fastened from below on both sides.”

“I don’t understand. We have a tunnel which could have allowed your vandal and Winston’s murderer to enter at will, yet they didn’t use it?” Samantha groaned.

“They did,” I said. “I’m hundred percent sure.”

“Do you also know who?”

“Not with absolute certainty. But I can narrow it down.”

“Does it help that I found an item on the floor of the tunnel?” Adriana fluffed her hair.

I itched to ask her what it was. Why hadn’t we learned morse code?

“I’ve got to make a phone call,” I excused myself and sped into the kitchen. “Could you pick it up?”

“It wouldn’t go through the metal,” she admitted. “But I’d recognize it again.”

She told me what she’d seen while I texted Tilda, “Table booked”. The Darling detectives had to put on their thinking caps yet again.

I swore Jolene and Samantha to silence about our discoveries until I’d worked out a plan of action. Until then I declined to say more about the how and the who, in the unlikely case my great-great-aunt and I were wrong.

We thrashed out our theory until I was fit to drop. The murder board had evolved into an architectural drawing.

Only one thing remained before I could afford an overdue rest. Adriana and I had to whip up a new gelato flavor.

***

Tilda reported for instructions at the crack of dawn. I walked her through every step again and again, until she was convinced of my reasoning and Adriana considered chilling the unsuspecting officer out, to speed up Tilda’s brain function and action. At least Tilda declared herself satisfied.

***

We dropped off our gelato delivery at the Cocoa Cabana.

Lisa accepted it with her usual good grace.

“How’s your kitty?” I asked when I spied a small scratch on her hand.

“She’s good, thank you. Although she doesn’t take kindly to visiting the vet, but which cat does?” Since customers were sparse this early, she whisked out her phone and showed off her cat pictures.

“Such a cutie,” Adriana gushed.

Lisa shut the digital photo album. “Eileen Watkins came around yesterday and asked if she could order a quart of the gelato you gave to Missy. She said it’s to die for.” She blushed. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“It’s fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

Adriana skipped along the sidewalk as we left. “Isn’t that interesting? Eileen sure doesn’t hold a grudge against you, for your support of the big bad Toast of the Town.”

The thought had crossed my mind too. How much of her outrage had been faked?

I almost bumped into the lady in question, when she left Missy’s house together with the widow.

That had not been my plan. Silently, I counted to five as I breathed in and out. I typed a message to Tilda.

If only I’d coached her enough.

If only she kept her cool.

If only –

“Quick,” Adriana said. “Or they’ll get away.”

I rushed over to Missy and Eileen. “I’m so glad I caught you.” I held up the gelato container. “Special delivery. This needs to go in the freezer asap.”

Missy gave Eileen an apologetic shrug. “We can spare five minutes.”

I clung to the container, prattling away about my very special process and my very special tender thoughts for the brave, bereaved widow, so I’d settled on distraction. If they decided to relieve me of the gelato, I couldn’t do anything about it. My frantic chatter must have befuddled them. Lo and behold, Adriana and I stood in the kitchen.

“Sorry, sticky hands.” I held out my palms and dashed in the direction of the bathroom. Adriana opted for a quick reconnoiter upstairs.

I kept my ears trained on the doorbell. There was only so long I could waylay Missy and Eileen. I washed my hands with surgical precision, and again for good measure.

Finally, when I considered staging an accident, a faint chime spared me.

In the hallway I saw Tilda, her head bowed in deference. “If you’d like to sit down, Mrs. Dooley? I’ve got some delicate news.”

Missy reached for the wall, to steady herself.

Eileen hurried to prop up the widow.

They both headed for the kitchen, with Tilda in tow.

Eileen filled a glass of water for Missy who gulped it down.

“Is it about my husband?” She blinked and patted her eyes with a handkerchief.

I lingered in the hallway, for the moment forgotten and doing my best to catch every word.

“In a way.” Tilda plastered on a reassuring smile they probably learned in the first week of police training. “It‘s highly unusual, and I really shouldn’t be telling you, except I thought you deserved to hear it.”

Missy and Eileen hung on Tilda’s lips.

She continued. “There’s a psychic scheduled to come to town on Halloween.”

“I’ve already been told.”

“Yes, ma’am. Only, the woman’s been in touch with me. She claimed she’s had a vision. A dark brick tunnel, leading to the place where the tormented soul of your husband departed this life. And in the tunnel, she’s seen something gleaming, about the size of my pinkie, that’ll deliver justice to those who committed evil.” Tilda allowed herself an embarrassed guffaw. “It might sound like bunk to you, but we’re going to follow every lead, no matter how weird the source is. You’ll understand.”

“I do, and I’m real grateful for your consideration, Officer. When can I expect to hear about results?” Missy’s voice became a mere whisper.

“Well, we’re pretty sure we’ll have the necessary permission by tonight, if not sooner.”

Adriana swooped towards me. “We should leg it.”

Leg it we did, so we were a full 100 yards ahead of Tilda when she left the house.

“Stop.” My great-great-aunt swayed. “Brick me up.”

I installed her on my purse with the precious object. “I’ll take you home.”

She fanned herself. “No need, if you take this.” She opened her hand. In her palm lay a hairpin with a rhinestone half moon. “I borrowed it from the cloak room. It’s the twin of the one I saw earlier.”

25.

The wait seemed interminable. We’d split up to cover all our bases, although in my mind there was only one real option where the killer would climb into the tunnel.

Samantha had reluctantly agreed to leave us be. News about her public appearance in town would spread via the local grapevine with supersonic speed.

Jolene had hung up a sign for the builders on the door to her deserted bar. “Back at 8am.”

“What if the killer doesn’t take the bait?” Adriana fretted. “Don’t say that.” Every heartbeat echoed in my ears so loudly I wondered how anyone could not hear it.

A sick taste crept into my mouth. My muscles twitched from standing still for what seemed like an eternity.

“Do you hear that?” Adriana whispered into my ear.

I listened. Was there a tiny creak?

A shadow flitted past the cramped cupboard where my great-great-aunt and I were hiding. Another creak made my heart sing. Soft footsteps became fainter.

With infinite care, I pushed the cupboard open. We stole out. Behind a row of boxes full of soft toys and games, a metal hatch stood open. A ladder led about seven or eight feet down.

“Stop. Police,” an officer yelled.

A gunshot rang out, echoing through the building, followed by a cry of pain.

“I’ll shoot,” Tilda screamed.

Feet scrambled on the ladder. The top of a head came into view. I prayed I’d made the right choice as I pushed the lever, and the heavy hatch crashed down onto the climber.

Ten seconds later, a loud bump against the metal gave me a start.

“We got her,” Tilda cried. She pushed the hatch open from underneath. “You were right. It’s Missy, and she almost got away from us.”

“Are you okay? I heard a gunshot.”

“She grazed the detective’s arm. He says it’s his third injury in the line of duty.” Tilda wiped her brow. “I don’t mind saying that doing the boring parts of police work are good enough for me.” She climbed up and hugged me.

Jolene, who’d guarded the escape hatch in Samantha’s bathroom together with her cousin, took the normal way along the street, over to me.

Outside, a detective with a makeshift bandage around his arm, helped Tilda to stow a handcuffed Missy into the police car.

Jolene sank onto a wooden box. “It’s really over? No more scaring people with hints of black magic?”

“I think we were only dealing with Missy all along. She needed a smokescreen to keep the police from looking too closely at herself.”

Tilda Ramos, esteemed member of Cobblewood Cove’s finest and heroine of the hour, as I’d heard from several sources before nightfall, turned up at my doorstep with a bottle of champagne. Jolene and Daphne had had the same inspiration, minus the booze.

Adriana aaah’d in anticipation. She’d gone without a single glass of bubbly, or the aroma, for long enough. “Will you look at that.”

“One glass,” I whispered, trying to move my lips as little as possible.

“Not the giggle water, although I don’t mind wetting my whistle.” She guided me towards the window. Outside stood a familiar figure.

“Matt!” I raced downstairs, closely followed by my great-great-aunt.

“Wait,” she said.

“Why?”

“You’ve got a smudge of marker on your cheek.”

I rubbed my sleeve over my face. I must have transferred marker when I sneezed while clearing the murder board.

“Now you’re presentable.”

I opened the door, and my great-great-aunt for once stole away discreetly, to allow me to greet my boyfriend in befitting fashion and without an audience.

Upstairs, Jolene had another surprise in store. Two plump satin pillows were arranged on the daybed, with Cleo nestled against one of them. I’d forgotten all about my request.

Jolene flung her arms around Matt. “You took your sweet time, buddy.” She let go of him.

“I came as fast as I could,” he said.

“Hah. If it hadn’t for Genie and myself, I might have been out of business before I started.”

Tilda cleared her throat.

“And we couldn’t have done it without Officer Ramos’s initiative.”

Matt slung his arm around me and pulled me close. “What exactly has been going on?”

Adriana ogled the bottle.

I extricated myself from Matt. Sometimes the needs of a ghost trumped those of the living, especially if some of the living had plans for a night undisturbed by family. I filled the glasses.

“A toast, to us all,” Jolene said.

“I adore how it tickles my nose,” Adriana said as she inhaled the champagne. She threw herself onto the daybed, next to me and Matt. Cleo curled up into a ball.

“It all started when Samantha returned to Cobblewood Cove,” I said.

Samantha drew in her breath. “Me?”

“Missy herself said that she and Winston had been in trouble for a while but patched it up. Well, she had to say something, because people would have remembered. And she made it obvious that she was overjoyed to have Samantha in town. Maybe she’d always been jealous, or maybe she saw a way to get rid of her husband without being suspected.”

“A bit of both, I reckon. She’s been blabbing her head off since we took her in. Said that she’d given him her youth, and she decided she’d see him in hell before she let him waltz off with his old flame and leave her without money, without her status in her hometown, and without children, while he started over again.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Samantha said. “We were friends, but I told him straight away that I had no intention to revisit the past. We had an argument about the issue. but he agreed in the end. I don’t think he’d ever have left Missy anyway. All he wanted was to recapture his dreams. Small stuff, like sailing.”

“You told folks that you’d come home to find your missing piece,” I reminded her. “I guess she thought you meant her husband.”

“What about the sabotage?” Daphne asked. “Why would she target the library? Assuming it was Missy.”

“To throw us all of the scent and link everything back to Samantha and her very specific offerings. Also, the library’s a public building. If someone had noticed her rooting around, she’d have claimed to have noticed something peculiar. For the rotten apples, it would have taken seconds to manipulate a basket.”

“And my bar?” Jolene glowered.

“I believe that she smashed the window from inside. There were a few shards in the wrong place, although we didn’t think twice. Using the Toast of the Town to reinforce the idea of sins was clever. So was stirring up Eileen to take action. I'm sure Missy planted all the ideas in her head.”

“How did Missy discover the tunnel?”

“That’s where I slipped up. When I asked Missy to locate any documentation and blueprints relating to the building, she must have found a clue. My best guess is a photo. Remember that our copy was from the 1950s, long after the prohibition had ended. All she then had to do was destroy the tell-tale pages and hand me the incomplete set. It would have been easy enough for her to lay her hands on the blueprints for the rest of the block. After all she worked in the right department. She used the third hatch, the one we only thought about yesterday. As a volunteer she had easy access to the building in the middle and could hide away there for hours before she ventured into the Toast of the Town or Bell’s Book and Candles. The padlocks were a stroke of genius, creating the perfect locked room puzzle.”

“That part, I understand,” Samantha said. “Only, why was Winston in my store at all, and how could she poison him there?”

All eyes were on me, a flattering experience, although a large part of my deductions were due to Adriana and her snooping. “She didn’t,” I said. “I assume she lured him there under a pretext -“

Tilda nodded. “A message, purportedly from Samantha, asking him over at 11pm, when she could be pretty certain folks would be safely inside.”

“She’d spiked his energy smoothie - she said herself it was an evening ritual - adding something that would delay the action. To be doubly sure, she hit him over the head once he was inside. She laid him out while he was unconscious, left a few occult clues behind, and disappeared. She could be reasonably sure he’d die without regaining consciousness. Meanwhile, Samantha wouldn’t hear a thing as she slept upstairs, in her sound-proofed apartment. All Missy had to do was drive home in Winston’s car.”

“What a horrible, horrible woman,” Jolene said.

“She really is a nasty piece of work. She wanted Samantha to go to jail for murder. That’s why she riled up Eileen and her friends, behind the scenes.” I looked to Tilda for confirmation, which I received.

“What happens now?” Daphne asked.

“She’ll go to prison, and we can all return to normal.” Tilda pulled out the necklace with her black jasper pendant. “I’ve been promised my promotion and with it my raise, too. I reckon the crystals did their job, to protect us from evil.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Would you tell that to Miss Lulu and her cousin? That we don’t need a séance or an exorcism or whatever they’ve got planned?” “

No.” Adriana put her hand on mine. “We’ve got to talk.” She stumbled a little as she headed for my bedroom.

I put that down to the drink. “This is our best chance to prevent Madame Blanche from coming here,” I said after I’d closed the door.

“True.” She sat down and hugged her knees to her chest.

Cleo scratched the door. I let her in. “I don’t understand.”

“What if there really are dangerous influences on the loose in Cobblewood Cove?” Adriana’s eyes were huge with fear. “We have to protect this town.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t want to leave you, too, but I’ve made up my mind. And it might save you from coming clean to Matt.” Now tears welled up in my eyes too.

26.

“Alone at last.” Matt propped my chin up with his hand. “What’s wrong, Genie? You should be celebrating bringing another murderer to justice.”

I dug my nails into my palm. This was hard.

“Light the candles and focus on the crystals,” Adriana said. The warm flames cast a soft glow over the room. I’d dimmed the lights until all I could see clearly, was Matt. And Adriana, if I moved my head a little. “I’ve got something important to tell you. I’m not crazy, but it might sound like it.”

“You scare me.” His eyes twinkled.

“Do you believe in the whole more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy?”

“Hamlet? You plan to run away and become a Shakespeare actor?”

I tried another approach. “You say you have a warm and fuzzy feeling when you’re with me.”

“Very warm and fuzzy.” He pulled me close.

I swallowed. “Do you carry a business card in your jacket?”

“A couple, in the interior pocket. Why?”

The garment hung on the coat rack. Adriana shimmied over and slid in her hand. “Yes siree.”

“Watch.” I clung to Matt’s hand while we waited. Any second now he might tear himself free and walk out if my life, for good.

A piece of cardboard fluttered to the ground.

Matt was speechless. Adriana shimmied back to us and tickled his chin.

“Do you feel even warmer and fuzzier now?”

“Oh, yes.”

“That’s the effect Adriana has on you. She’s also the one responsible for the card on the floor.” I took a deep breath. “She’s a ghost, a real one, as real as you and me and the rest of the world.”

“Adriana Darling?”

“My great-great-aunt. Only she’s much younger and more beautiful than me.”

Adriana blew me a kiss.

“She’s the reason I’m a successful gelato maker. These are her recipes. And she’s also why I asked for your help locating her missing necklace.” Early in our relationship I’d supplied Matt with a faded photograph and detailed sketches I’d made. If the necklace was sold in an auction house, he was my best chance to hear about it.

“A ghost.” He rubbed the spot on his chin Adriana had tickled.

“It sounds insane, I know.”

“I’ve heard crazier stories. My granny swears her late husband visits her every year on the Day of the Dead.” He frowned. “There’s more troubling you.”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen to Adriana on the night of All Hallows Eve. I might lose her for good.”

He hugged me close. “Can you see her?”

“See, and hear. Animals see her too.”

He patted the seat next to him.

Adriana sat down, her hands demurely folded in her lap.

“Here’s the deal, the way I see it. You were almost killed a couple of times since we met,” he said.

“I’m alive because Adriana saved me.”

“That’s my point. We don’t know what’s in store for us either. So, make the most of every hour, both of you. No, make that all three of us.”

“He’s so dreamy,” Adriana whispered. “I’ll see you two at breakfast.”

***

Halloween greeted us with azure skies, blinding sunshine, and the promise of a mild frost to turn trick-or-treaters’ breath into clouds of vapor when they made their final rounds.

I went through the daily routine like an automaton. We’d added Tricky Toffee, Trickly Treats (cherry pulp added a spooky touch to a vanilla base), and Witch’s Wonder to our list of flavors.

Preparing gallons of gelato for our regulars, plus an extra batch for the library, kept my hands occupied. The same could not be said for my mind.

Adriana was unfazed. She’d adopted a serene attitude ever since my confession to Matt. “Aren’t these adorable?” She admired two dozen wonky ceramic bowls donated by my potter friend and sometime studio partner.

Eileen and her cronies, who’d ceased all hostilities, were going to assist the library kids with decorating them. The gelato would be served as their reward.

I’d excused myself from volunteering. I’d also refused to attend the séance at Bell's Books and Candles. Adriana, Cleo, and I would have this day to ourselves. For the night, we had different plans.

An hour before Madame Blanche summoned her powers to cast out evil in Cobblewood Cove, Adriana and I set off for the cemetery.

A picnic basket with a second brick from the villa, a piece of floorboard from her old room, and a detective magazine from 1927 from her own, well-preserved stash would hopefully be enough to tether her to the here and now.

I dropped her off at the final resting place of her sister. She sat on the grave, with her back against Belle’s headstone. Her feet were propped up on the basket. “Genie?” She flashed me a mischievous grin.

“Yes?”

“If I don’t see him again, kiss Matt goodbye from me. A real smooch, one that’ll knock his socks off.”

“I will.”

“And don’t worry. If the worst happens, I’ll see my family again.”

I ran, before she could see my tears.

Matt was already waiting when I returned to the Darling villa. He had the good sense to talk about everything but my sweet, exasperating, wonderful ghost.

***

I woke up at 3am, next to a sleeping Matt.

A large lump constricted my breath. Cleo had jumped onto my chest. She meowed into my ear.

“I miss her too.”

Cleo meowed again, pulling with both front paws on my pajama sleeve.

“You want me to go?”

The tabby chirruped.

I left a note, in case Matt woke up.

I dreaded every step I took. Gravel and dead leaves crunched under my feet. Candles blazed in a few lanterns.

Halloween was over, and the Mexican Day of the Dead had begun. Adults and children would take turns today and tomorrow, to walk the earth for 24 hours.

I did not expect to meet Belle, or “Daredevil” Rosalind, or another ancestor buried in Cobblewood Cove. We came from mostly Anglo-Saxon stock, including our German forebears. The most exotic among the lot was Rosalind’s grandmother Alyssa, who’d grown up in Australia.

What I feared most, was meeting nobody.

I tiptoed up to Belle’s grave. The picnic basket was where I’d left it. That was all.

I bit back a scream. Adriana had gone. Her afterlife was over. “Genie?”

I shrieked.

“It’s me.” Adriana darted out from behind another gravestone. “I was only visiting with old friends.”

“You’re here.”

“Large as life and going to stay that way for a while.” She twirled around Belle’s grave. “I swear, they were here with me, in spirit. There was a golden glow, only not visible but more like an emotion, and I heard Belle’s voice that all was swell. I’d see her when I’d done all I wanted to do.”

“I darn well hope so.”

“What do you think she meant?”

“That I’ll get to keep you around.” I picked up the basket. “Let’s go home. Cleo’s waiting.”

27.

Adriana groove-walked ahead of me and Matt. She’d supervised my dressing in an evening gown straight out of her own era. The feather headband and my art déco earrings added the final touch. Matt’s tuxedo and top hat also came with her seal of approval. I had to admit that we cut a dashing figure, all three of us.

A neon sign blazed Toast of the Town. The Schuylers’ manservant had chauffeured us, as he would do for the other guests.

The grand opening of Jolene’s restored speakeasy was off to a grand start. Felix played Cole Porter songs on the piano. The panel with the painted flapper took its old place again. Later tonight, it would add an illicit thrill to the party, when we’d reenact a raid and flee from the long arm of the law, prohibition-era style.

The police were already among us, incognito of course, in the form of Hank and Tilda who’d exchanged their uniforms for pin-striped suits and waistcoats.

A table with a reserved sign awaited us, close to the stage and with a beeline to the conventional escape above ground. “It’s where the high society used to sit,” Fred Ward said. He’d taken up the role of head waiter and receptionist. “Raffle tickets, anyone? All proceeds go to the Cobblewood Cove free animal clinic and to the nursery.”

My mother, who’d cut her pampering short by a day for the occasion, beamed at me.

Her short black dress showed off her legs and the right amount of cleavage to make me feel torn between pride in my mother and embarrassment. A tray with chocolates and books with raffle tickets hung over her shoulders. “Surprise. How do I look?

“The cat’s whiskers, my dear.” Primrose and Dahlia bore down on us. “We found an original outfit for a cigarette girl and instantly thought of Aimée.”

My mother’s husband leaned against the door, dressed like a 1920s gent in dinner jacket, spats, and top hat. He kept a close watch on his wife.

“Ten tickets, please.” Matt pulled out his wallet.

My mother tore off his stubs. “All winning numbers, I’m sure.”

The surrounding tables filled up. Behind the bar, Jolene and two helpers mixed cocktails. The blackboard I’d donated hung next to a large mirror.

I took a double take as I saw Eileen of all people pick up a couple of Harvey Wallbangers, aka tea with two sugars according to the drinks’s menu.

Her dress was appropriate enough. She’d come as a member of the temperance league. Her husband had opted for the classic gangster look of the era. Were they sharing a smile? A pretty girl with delicate tattoos on both shoulders smooched with Eileen’s son, without our old foe having a hissy fit.

Promising, I thought.

But, more important, where was Adriana? I scanned the room. “Is something up?” Matt asked.

I hesitated.

“May I have this dance?” He took my hand. We foxtrotted around the crowded dance floor.

“There she is,” I exclaimed. A mimosa on a table next to the piano must have attracted her like a magnet. She now had draped herself across the instrument and crooned in her sultriest fashion. “You Do Something To Me.”

“You do,” I muttered. “You really do.”

Matt pulled me closer. “You’re distracted.”

My pulse quickened.

“It’s her, isn’t it?”

“Everything’s under control. Steer me towards the stage.” We danced closer to the piano.

I hissed, “Table. Now.”

My great-great-aunt dragged herself off the piano. “I was only having fun.” Her speech was still only marginally slurring, so she was tipsy but not blotto.

If I could keep it that way, I’d be happy. We sat down, with Adriana opting for the table top. I pushed the cocktails that had appeared in our absence out of her reach.

“Don’t be a wet blanket,” she protested.

“Is she here?” Matt whispered in my ear.

“Right in front of you, gorgeous.” She bopped his nose.

“Good. Because I’ve got a surprise for you. There might be a way to trace the necklace. Only, you’d have to travel.” “Go places? Where? When? How?” Adriana got a grip at the last instant, or she’d have landed in my boyfriend’s lap.

“How do you feel about a trip to Scotland?”

Adriana flung herself onto my lap. “Let’s go, Genie. We need to pack.”

“What do you say?” Matt offered me a glass and raised his.

“What do you expect? My new motto is, have ghost, will travel. We don’t have to leave straight away, I assume?”

“Not at all. But we can spend the night celebrating.”

“That’s our boy.” Adriana soaked up the boozy atmosphere. “This is all going to be swell, and we’ll be the toast —“ She hiccuped.

“Excuse me for a second.” I helped Adriana put her arms around my neck and steered her towards the cloakroom. “Genie?” Her head lolled until it touched my shoulder.

I lowered her onto a chair and covered her with my coat. “I’ll come back for you when you’re sober.”

“You won’t forget me?” Her lids fluttered.

I chuckled. “Impossible.”

A wide grin rewarded me. Then, my precious ghost burped and fell silent, no doubt gathering strength for a long night ahead and dreaming of Scotland.

***

Acknowledgements

Thank you for making it all the way to the end! I appreciate it (and so do Genie and Adriana). If you want a little extra, click here for access to the bonus epilogue. All the added material will hopefully soon be added to my website but I don't want to make you wait until that's done.

Genie and Adriana will return in Ghost Conquers The Castle.

What could be more romantic than Christmas in a Scottish castle? Plus there's the hope to locate Adriana’s missing necklace among Lady Taverner's belongings. What they haven't planned for is a murder …

Cast of characters

Genie Darling, jewelry designer, gelato-maker, and amateur sleuth

Adriana Darling, Genie`s not quite departed great-great.-aunt, a pet-whispering sleuthing ghost

Cleo, their tabby cat

Aimée, Genie's mother, and her husband Toby

Primrose and Dahlia Schuyler, grande dames of Cobblewood Cove

Jolene, handywoman and owner of the old speakeasy

Daphne Mills, animal-loving head librarian

Eileen Watkins, crusader and thorn in everyone's flesh

Missy Dooley, works in the building department and volunteers at the nursery

Winston Dooley, her husband, who doesn't deserve his fate

Samantha Bell, who returns home to open an esoteric store at the wrong time

Miss Lulu, hairdresser and gossip magnet

Toots, her cousin, ready to battle evil forces

Wendy DeKalb, Winston's ex-employee, who harbors a secret

Assorted townfolk, human and animal

Acknowledgements

Many thanks to Fiona Leitch who once again gave me invaluable editorial support for this book.

Donna Rogers at DLR Cover Designs took my vague ideas and turned them into another cover that blew me away. It's an art form.

Thanks to Monica Cobine and Garry Fairway who read an early draft and gave me invaluable feedback.

Dozens of sources provided the research material that forms the backbone of the narrative.

Most of all, I want to thank all my readers for your support and encouragement. I wouldn't be here without you.

On our behalf …

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About the author

Carmen Radtke has spent most of her life with ink on her fingers and a dangerously high pile of books and newspapers by her side. She has worked as a newspaper reporter on two continents and always dreamt of becoming a novelist and screenwriter.

When she found herself crouched under her dining table, typing away on a novel between two earthquakes in Christchurch, New Zealand, she realised she was hooked for life.

The shaken but stirring novel made it to the longlist of the Mslexia competition, and her next book and first mystery, The Case Of The Missing Bride, was a finalist in the Malice Domestic competition in a year without a winner as well as nominated for a CWA Historical Dagger. Since then, she has penned several more cozy mysteries, including the Jack and Frances series set in the 1930s.

Her Genie and Adriana Darling series combines her love for the 1920s and 1930s and old screwball comedies in the form of a pet-whispering ghost, and contemporary settings.

Although, she has by now committed more crimes in her novels than she ever covered as a reporter, her conscience and rap sheet are both clear. The only blood Carmen has shed, was a fly she swatted. Even that was an accident.

After years in New Zealand and England, Carmen now lives in Italy with her human and her four-legged family.

You can find more about the author on

www.digital-publishers.com/en/authors/carmen-radtke

carmenradtke.com

www.facebook.com/authorcarmenradtke

www.instagram.com/scribbler25

x.com/CarmenRadtke1

Other titles by the author

Genie and Adriana Darling Mysteries:

Ghost Conquers the Castle
ISBN: 978-1-91741-735-8
Learn more

Ghost Stirs the Pot
ISBN: 978-1-91741-733-4
Learn more

Ghost Takes a Vacation
ISBN: 978-1-91741-732-7
Learn more

Genie and the Ghost
ISBN: 978-1-91741-731-0
Learn more

Here's what happens next

Ghost Conquers the Castle

Carmen Radtke

E-Book-ISBN: 978-1-91741-735-8

What better place to find the lost possessions of a ghost than a castle in Scotland?

The fifth part of the humorous cozy mystery series full of secrets, murder and a lot of Christmas spirit

For Genie and her great-great-aunt Adriana, their visit to Taverner Castle is a fairytale come true. To make their trip perfect, it also comes with the chance to track down Adriana’s missing necklace. For a ghost connected to her earthly possessions, this opportunity means everything.

Their search for the jewelry is cut short when a murder in a locked room spoils their Christmas and the two sleuths race against time to solve the crime and return to their own investigation. But with a slew of suspects within the ancient castle walls, Genie and Adriana have to prepare themselves for the worst or risk losing their chance – or even ending up haunting the castle together.

Become curious?
We hope you enjoy the read sample!

Read sample

1

The luggage carousel looped around, eerily empty. Where there should’ve been my suitcase, I saw the conveyor belt do its circles with nothing on top. I didn’t care.

I’d made it alive to Scotland! We’d made it alive, as far as my companion could be considered that. Adriana Darling had officially died in 1929, but here we were in Scotland, standing at the not quite hallowed ground of Edinburgh Airport. In my hand I held my carry-on case which contained among bare necessities for myself an original brick from our family villa, an original Chanel evening dress, and a few other things formerly belonging to my great-great-aunt. Said relative now hopped onto the carousel, clapping with delight as she embarked on her circles.

“No,” I hissed before she disappeared inside the contraption.

My knees went weak. This had felt like the longest flight of my life. Adriana pouted.

“I haven’t been allowed to have any fun for ages, Genie.” I rubbed my temples. Keeping a vivacious ghost in check during a flight from Boston to Edinburgh, without ending in the loony bin, took its toll.

I’d done my best to keep her away from the booze, and even crocheted a net shawl from a metallic thread. It served as a Faraday cage because as considerate and delightful as my great-great-aunt usually was, she also possessed certain powers over electricity, and sometimes she lost control over them. Literally.

It was one thing blowing fuses at home and the Darling villa in Cobblewood Cove which we’d shared since she had reappeared earlier this year. It was another thing to let her loose on an airliner.

I counted my lucky stars I didn’t have to include her on the documents they made us fill out before landing. The correct description would have been “Occupation: Spectral magnet for murder, mayhem, and mishaps”.

“You look worried, darling,” Matt said as he made his way back to my side, past the passengers from the next flight due to pick up their luggage from this very carousel.

I hoped they had more luck, as I motioned Adriana to come with me to meet him halfway.

Matt Blake, art and museum security expert extraordinaire, dedicated boyfriend, and the reason Adriana and I were here at all, had checked with the airline staff that my suitcase had really gone on vacation without me. Alas, it had.

“We’ll sort this out,” he said. A comforting smile crinkled his dark eyes.

“I’m sure he will.” Adriana fluttered her lashes at him. Although only I could see her, Matt had always felt comfortable in her presence. A warm, fuzzy feeling, that’s how he described it.

While it had taken me a few months into our relationship to come clean and confide that I kind of came as a double pack with an eternally 21-year-old flapper oozing old movie star glamour, he’d taken it pretty well.

“Do they know where my wayward luggage is?” I asked hopefully.

“Amsterdam. I’ve been promised it will be back in your hands tomorrow, or it will be once we’ve picked it up. That’s the important question for now. Do you want to stay in Edinburgh for one night or shall we press on and improvise a little, style-wise?”

I gazed around. So did Adriana, with wide-eyed wonder. As small as Edinburgh Airport was, it held a surprisingly large array of all things Scottish, including a whiskey shop, one with coats of arms and kilts, and the promises of castle tours – and one featuring ghosts, which I hoped Adriana had overlooked.

Small Christmas trees adorned most shops and I’d been told the Christmas market in Edinburgh was among the most popular on the British Isles. As tempting as it sounded, it also guaranteed crowds, which were never a good idea in connection with my great-great-aunt.

Keeping an eye on an excitable ghost was not an easy feat at the best of times. Even in familiar surroundings in our small town between Boston and New York I’d dealt with my share of surprises. Letting her roam around a large or at least larger city was not on my agenda.

“We’ll proceed as planned,” I said. “At least we will after I’ve taken care of a few emergency purchases.”

Since I only needed a few garments to tide me over until my errant luggage caught up with me, I resisted the temptation to go onto the city centre with Princes Street and all the shops I’d only read about. Instead, I asked Matt to enquire at the car rental desk about the nearest shopping mall. I figured a change of clothes or two would do well enough. Also, it would offer less temptation for my lovely relative. In a mall there had to be a cozy coffee shop where I’d bribe her to stay with Matt. On second thought, maybe that wasn’t the smartest plan. She might flit off without him noticing as soon as she spotted a dog or another animal.

Taking her along as a shopping advisor involved taking the carry-on suitcase with the brick to fuel her spectral life-force so far from her birthplace, but that was a small price to pay.

Matt had reserved a Range Rover for the journey north. He stowed away his luggage, which had arrived safely in in its entirety, in the boot. I stuck out my bottom lip. Okay, he’d only brought two small suitcases, but it still wasn’t fair. Amsterdam! I only hoped the airline staff kept their promise to send my belongings from the Netherlands on to Scotland on the next plane.

Adriana draped herself against the car and mustered me. “I’ll make sure that you won’t look like a scarecrow. We don’t want to frighten him away.”

I glared at her, stung by both her dismissal of my personal charms and my fashion sense. We couldn’t all look like an early movie star, from her wavy golden hair and creamy complexion to her slinky evening frock. She’d worn the silk dress the night that had led to her untimely demise. Its material counterpart lay in my carry-on case, wrapped in half a dozen layers of tissue paper.

She heaved a tolerant sigh. “Have you looked around?” she asked pointedly.

I had to admit I’d seen more fashionable displays than the trickle of people in slogan T-shirts, sweatpants and the occasional bare midriff, heading towards their rentals. I wondered if any of them had bothered to check out the weather forecast for Scotland at Christmas time.

At least Matt and I were dressed appropriately in jeans and sweaters.

Matt steered the Land Rover with reassuring ease towards our destination.

For once Adriana had fallen quiet. I used the rearview mirror to check on her. She pressed her nose against the window and drank in the sights. So did I. Scotland had pull out all the stops to impress today.

Blue skies, distant hills, and houses straight out of a period movie greeted us after all the hours spent sealed into the airplane cabin.

A happy glow spread through me. What was a small mishap with my suitcase compared to all the excitement that lay ahead?

At the mall, I hurried to make my selection. With only a short delay until I’d be reunited with my jeans, sweaters, and elegant dresses I’d packed for the momentous trip, a pair of black slacks, a top and a cardigan should do.

When I looked at the price tags of the pieces I coveted, I gulped and resigned myself to look like the poor cousin for a bit, until Adriana swooped in to save me, or at least my pride, and my bank account as well.

I couldn’t complain about money since starting a gelato business alongside my jewelry design, but I had no intention on depleting my funds unnecessarily. My great-great-aunt came with unexpected expenses, although she more than made up for it. Adriana’s nose was the secret behind my success as an ice-cream maker.

“Try this,” she urged. She’d discovered a cashmere twin-set in a rich scarlet hue, which had the additional appeal of being in my size and heavily reduced.

“Where’s the catch?” I asked the sales assistant.

“There’s a wee tear.” She showed me a rough spot at the back of the top. It needed eagle eyes to spot the flaw.

Her voice had that soft, Scottish lilt Adriana swooned over. I heard her practicing it right now, repeating every word. I couldn’t blame her, because I liked it too. It had such a warm, reassuring quality to it.

With my purchases completed, we set off again. Towns gave way to heather and woodlands, and, in the background, craggy hills. The blue sky changed to leaden, and the first snowflakes settled on the windshield. I rolled down the window in inches to breathe in the heady air that held the promise of more snow and the tantalizing idea of a white Christmas.

Birds of prey wheeled overhead, until the flurry became a thick curtain of fat flakes, hiding any bird life from view.

Our progress was slower than I had expected, and I kept my fingers crossed that we would reach our destination before darkness swallowed everything.

“Isn’t it romantic?” Adriana whispered. “Can’t you just see Bonnie Prince Charlie fleeing in weather like this, accompanied by his trusted helpmate?”

“When he was disguised as Betty Burke, you mean?” I asked, my voice almost imperceptible. Adriana’s hearing rivaled that of a bat, and I didn’t want to distract Matt while he navigated remote gravel roads treacherously slick with ice. Also, the volume I used gave him a hint, whether I was actually talking to him or conversing with my lovely relative.

Snow crunched under our tires as we crossed small stone bridges and navigated narrow corners that sent my adrenaline soaring.

The Scottish Highlands were a place of beauty, but they also held considerable dangers, especially now that our headlights were the only source of illumination left. I’d expected street lamps, and maybe a few small towns offering lights, but I’d been wrong.

I hadn’t noticed how tightly I had clenched my hands until I painfully felt my nails dig into my palms.

“Almost there,” Matt said with a reassuring grin.

He was right.

After what had seemed like an eternity driving through the snow drift mixed with inky darkness, we pulled up outside an impressive stone wall. Cast-iron lanterns illuminated what must be a moat.

Behind it, lights shone through the windows of a castle straight out of the storybooks.

We had reached our destination.

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