0451416325 (22 page)

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Authors: Heather Blake

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I quickly read his energy, and his heart was pounding with anxiety.

So, Delia had been right. Those were blackmail letters.

Because Doc Gabriel knew about the blackmail, I bluffed a little, trying to get him to talk. “So far the sheriff knows Hyacinth and Mayor Ramelle got letters, and Patricia’s bank records confirm she was paying someone off. Was Idella being blackmailed, too?”

I didn’t mention the burned letters in Haywood’s trash can on purpose. I wanted to see if Doc Gabriel, like Doug, believed Haywood had sent the notes.

Looking down the long aisle, he exhaled loudly, then faced me straight on. “Idella received the first one six months ago.”

He began walking again, leading me down another corridor.

“It came in the mail, postmarked from New Orleans. It was computer printed and threatened to reveal a family secret of Idella’s if she didn’t pay up.”

New Orleans? Hyacinth said Haywood’s letter had been postmarked from Auburn. “What family secret?” I asked.

Shaking his head, he said, “I’d rather not say what it is.”

Peeved that he wouldn’t tell me, I said, “The sheriff will need to know.”

“We’ll cross that bridge later.”

I breathed in a strong scent of bleach and antiseptic. Doc kept his clinic extremely clean. “Did Idella pay up?”

“Faithfully,” he said, walking slowly.

I felt Virgil lurking behind me and could only imagine how impatient he was becoming. He probably didn’t care a bit about who was blackmailing who. All he wanted to do was see his dog. “Did you know other Harpies had been getting letters as well?”

“Not until recently. Hyacinth opened up to Idella about hers and how worried she was about them.”

“What secrets did Hyacinth’s letters threaten to expose?” I probed.

Again, he shook his head. “It’s not my place to say.”

“Was it about her three dead husbands?” He kept mum, and I pushed for an answer. “Was it about her drinking?”

His head snapped up, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he picked up his pace.

I took that as a yes.

Interesting. But what was it about her drinking specifically?

“Doug Ramelle believes Haywood sent the letters. Do you?” I asked, pressing him. He might be the only one in this group that would talk openly with me about this situation. I was treading a bit on our friendship, but I was a desperate witch. Time was slipping away for Haywood.

“Haywood’s name was brought up only because the letters started arriving shortly after he joined the Harpies. The timing was too coincidental to ignore. Also once the blackmailing scheme was out in the open within the group, Hay wouldn’t tell anyone if he’d received a letter. Doug hypothesized that Hyacinth might have spilled the secrets accidentally and Hay was using them to his advantage.”

Accidentally.
Doc meant while
drunk
but was too much of a gentleman to say so.

“Did Hay actually send the letters?” he asked. “I don’t know. Haywood was a fairly quiet guy who simply might not have wanted to share his private affairs with others.”

Doc opened another door, this one leading to an exterior kennel area shaded with a large aluminum overhang.

“I will say this,” he added. “Like clockwork for the last six months, a letter appeared in our mailbox every Monday morning. One didn’t arrive today.”

I filed that away to think about later. It made sense if Haywood
had
been the blackmailer, but he’d been being blackmailed like the rest of them . . . Which led me to believe that someone was framing Haywood, wanting everyone to believe he’d sent the letters.

But who?

Most of the stalls out here were empty, for which I was grateful. “Are there any other candidates who might have sent the letters? Any enemies?”

“We couldn’t think of any. None of us are perfect, not by far, but we couldn’t fathom who’d do this. Or why.”

“It has to be someone close to all of you if they know your deep dark secrets.”

His eyebrows snapped down. “Yes.”

When all else failed, follow the money trail. “Anyone you know hurting for money? Family members? Friends?”

“Not that I’m aware.” He grabbed a leash from a set of pegs hanging from a cement block wall.

“How did you get the money to the blackmailer?”

“Each week a letter arrived with a different location and time listed to drop off the money. Once, Idella and I planted a video camera at one of the drops, but the film didn’t reveal anything helpful, only a person dressed in a black trench coat who carried a large black umbrella. Couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman. It’s a frustrating situation, but we couldn’t go to the sheriff without revealing something that Idella does not want known. It was easier to pay.”

In a blink, Virgil blew past us, peering in each stall as fast as he could fly. I knew immediately when he’d found Louella, as he dropped to his knees and a sudden keening split the air.

Fortunately, it wasn’t Virgil, which would raise all kinds of questions I couldn’t answer.

It was Louella.

Doc sprinted ahead, and I quickly caught up to find Louella prancing in her cage, her tail tucked as she wailed and pawed thin air.

Only it wasn’t thin air.

It was Virgil.

And he was crying.

It didn’t surprise me in the least that the dog could see him just fine. Animals were finely attuned to the spirit world.

A large lump lodged in my throat and my eyes welled at the love I was witnessing.

I kept a bit of a distance from the cage, trying to minimize the pain that came from being close to Virgil. Louella didn’t seem to mind that he couldn’t touch her. She danced all around him, still wailing happily.

Louella, I noticed, was as gnarly-looking as ever. Long and unkempt wiry brown and white hair. Protruding eyes. A tail that resembled a stringy rope. Her excited yipping hurt my ears.

Doc opened her stall door, knelt down, and tried to calm her. She wasn’t having it. Her master was here, and it was abundantly clear that she loved him as much as he loved her. She growled at the doc and kept crying for Virgil.

When a sob escaped Virgil’s lips, Dr. Gabriel’s head shot up. “Did you hear that?”

“What?” I asked, playing dumb.

“That noise . . .” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Is there something wrong with her?” I asked, only because I thought it would be strange if I didn’t acknowledge her odd behavior.

“I’m not sure what’s going on.” He glanced at me, blue eyes puzzled. “She’s wound up. Excited.”

I laid it on heavy. “Maybe she can’t wait to come home with me.”

He gave me a dubious look but nodded. “That must be it.”

I nearly laughed. He must really want to be rid of her.

Still kneeling, Doc carefully slipped the leash around her neck. “She’s up-to-date on all her shots. Perfectly healthy. I recommend introducing her to Roly and Poly gradually.” He handed me the leash. “You also might want to invest in a muzzle. Soon.”

Lordy.
“I’ll look into that,” I promised.

“Unless you run into a problem with her, I don’t need to see her for another a year for a wellness checkup.”

Louella came when I tugged the leash only because Virgil floated ahead of me and she strained to keep up with him.

Doc’s eyes were wide open in pure astonishment. “She really does like you.”

“You seem shocked. I’m a likable kind of person,” I said, stopping as we neared the reception area.

He laughed. “Yes, you are. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why are you doing this? Adopting her?”

I couldn’t very well tell him about Virgil. But when I spoke, I spoke from the heart. “Louella shouldn’t have to spend her life in a cage. It’s not right.”

Softly, he said, “No one should. Especially when it’s not a cage of your own making.”

I had the feeling he wasn’t talking about Louella anymore.

He was talking about the blackmail.

I hemmed, I hawed, before I finally just blurted, “Do you know why Patricia was being blackmailed?”

I was beyond curious as to what she could possibly have to hide.

Absently scratching his grizzled beard, he said, “She didn’t tell Dylan or the sheriff?”

Wearily, I shook my head.

He opened the door leading to the exit. “Then it’s not for me to say, either.”

Chapter Seventeen

I
cursed Dr. Gabriel and his integrity the whole way to the Ezekiel house.

Louella trotted ahead of me, still following Virgil. I planned to stop at To Have and to Cuddle pet shop on the way home to pick up a dog bed, some toys, food, and maybe a tranquilizer or two.

The tranquilizers were for me.

Right now Louella was behaving, but I knew Virgil wouldn’t be around much longer and then she’d revert to her malicious ways.

Even now, Virgil had started to fade a bit, becoming more transparent than usual. Soon, he’d fade away entirely, his transition to the other side complete.

I tried not to think too much about Virgil leaving. Doing so caused an ache that had nothing to do with my empathic abilities and everything to do with having grown fond of him.

He wasn’t the only one I’d grown fond of.

I glanced behind me at Jenny Jane and said, “I’ll call Mayor Ramelle as soon as I get home.”

Sadly, she nodded.

I let out a small sigh. This ghost business wasn’t for sissies.

Fallen leaves were finally drying out and blew about in a gentle breeze as my bizarre little caravan made its way toward the Ezekiel house. When it came into sight, I couldn’t stop twitching with dread. I’d come to intensely dislike the place.

The south side of the house—where the kitchen was located—had black soot snaking up the facade. Other than that, a passerby wouldn’t be able to tell there’d been a fire there at all recently.

A few cars were parked in the driveway, including Mayor Ramelle’s black Range Rover and Idella’s white Mercedes convertible. No doubt they were in full disaster-control mode, trying to get the house put back together.

With Haywood gone, they’d be assuming the mansion was theirs free and clear.

Unless they knew that Avery Bryan was Haywood’s daughter.

In that case, I wouldn’t have been surprised if one of the Harpies had lit the place on fire just so Avery couldn’t inherit it. I could see them being spiteful that way. They’d have the insurance money and she’d have nothing at all.

I gave the house itself a wide berth and made my way to the back of the property. Leaves crunched underfoot, and Louella was happily sniffing every weed she came across. Jenny Jane had veered off to peek in the mansion’s windows.

I wondered if she’d always been a voyeur or if this was new to her ghostly state.

When I looked ahead toward the cemetery gates, I was surprised to see someone there, looking over the plots.

Hyacinth Foster.

Her head snapped up and she glanced back at me as she heard my approach. A look of pure horror washed over her face when she spotted Louella.

Apparently they had a previous acquaintance.

In a low voice, she said, “I thought Dr. Gabriel had put her down.”

“He didn’t.” I studied Hyacinth. She’d definitely been drinking as I could smell the gin on her breath. But she wasn’t drunk. “He said he couldn’t bring himself to do it when she was perfectly healthy.”

A trembling hand went to her throat. “Why do
you
have her?”

“I adopted her,” I said, wondering if Louella had bitten Hyacinth one too many times. “When I found out she’d been living in the kennel since Virgil died, I decided she needed a home.”

Well,
I
hadn’t decided that. Virgil had.

The things I did for ghosts.

Still shaking, Hyacinth kept staring at Louella as though transfixed by the small dog.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Blinking, she said, “I’m just . . . overwhelmed right now with everything going on.”

Her blond hair was pulled back in a stubby ponytail that she had managed to make look elegant, and her statement headband was firmly in place, but the appearance of her eyes revealed her grief. Red and swollen, with dark circles beneath that no amount of makeup could cover.

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