A Haunting Is Brewing: A Haunted Home Renovation and a Witchcraft Mystery Novella (8 page)

“So, it could have been Preston for the life insurance, or Ed Gaskin for the boost in ticket sales, or Tess because Adam slept with someone else and she was possessed by the spirit of Reginald. Is that about it so far?”

Lily and I were in the back room of Aunt Cora’s Closet, heads bent low over the contents of the magic trunk, which were spread out on the floor, within a circle of salt that Lily had drawn “for protection.”

“It all sounds a tad ridiculous when you say it like that,” said Lily with a shake of her head. “But back home we have a saying: Every fish ever caught had its mouth open.”

“What are you thinking we should do next?”

“We convince all the suspects that on Halloween, the spirits of the mannequins will return to this earthly plane. And that when the dolls came alive, they’ll be able to tell us what happened to Adam.”

“So in other words we set a trap: Let them know and then wait in the attic and see who comes to destroy the dolls?”

“It’s an idea.”

“Yes, but not a
good
idea. I mean . . . really?”

“Your part is to make a bunch of phone calls and convince all the pertinent players to show up at the ball, and tell them about the legend of the dolls coming to life. Also, I think Inspector Crawford should arrange for backup.”

“I’m not sure how she’s going to spin that one for the SFPD:
‘I need some undercover officers in Halloween costumes for a sting operation involving magic dolls and a tormented ghost
’?”

“I have faith in your powers of persuasion.”

“Thanks, but—”

“I’ll brew, and tomorrow night at the ball I’ll cast a spell to help the dolls come alive, which will also serve to release the trapped spirits of the Spooner family. If we’re right, it’ll all work out just fine.”

“And if we’re wrong?”

She shrugged. “It shouldn’t be a problem. Not unless . . . never mind. It really shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Okaaaay,” I said. “And then, when we discover who killed Adam, he should be able to move on as well, right?”

“I think so, yes.”

“You have experience with this sort of thing, then?”

“Not exactly,” she said with a little frown of concentration.

I hadn’t known Lily for long, but I had learned that look on her face meant her mind was elsewhere, no doubt cooking up a spell of some kind. All I could think of was the witches in Shakespeare’s
Macbeth: “Double, double, boil and trouble”
 . . . and something about eye of newt. . . .

The whole thing sort of freaked me out, but if it could help Adam find peace, I was in. Besides, now that I was dealing with this whole occult world with disturbing regularity, I might as well learn as much as I could when the opportunity presented itself.

“So, are you going to brew now? Could I watch?”

“No, no, I’m sorry. I’m a solo act. It’s nothing personal—it’s just the way I function. Some witches operate in covens, and the power of the thirteen helps them to transcend this earthly plane and get in touch with their ancestors, drawing on that energy to affect reality. In my case I have to get into my own head, by brewing.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll need you there when I cast the spell to release the spirits of the Spooner family, however. You might be able to communicate with them, and for sure with Adam.”

I nodded. I was in.

Lily gave me a bright, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Mel. We’ll pull this off together, and think of all the good we’re doing for the Spooners, and for Adam.”

I returned her smile. If nothing else, I thought to myself, the strangeness of Spooner House had won me a new friend. Someone who never seemed to think, even for a moment, that I might be crazy for saying I could communicate with ghosts.

Unless, of course,
she
was crazy, I thought as I watched her gather items from Bronwyn’s herb stand: a pinch of salt, a bundle of stinging nettles, cayenne pepper.

“I brew beforehand, by myself, then use that brew to cast,” she explained. “I draw the circle and say the charm. . . . You’ll see tomorrow. It’s not scary. I don’t think.”

“I understand. It’s just a whole new thing for me.”

She grinned. “You’re not the only one, believe me. I’ve been a loner my whole life. For me, the new thing is being open about it.”

“I can relate,” I said. “I tried to keep the whole ghost-seeing thing under wraps, but it didn’t last long. Now I’ve been ‘outed’ by
Haunted Home Quarterly
, and we’re starting to get more calls about ghosts than renovation at Turner Construction.”

“It happens,” she said as she gathered her supplies in a large black silk square, then tied it up in a bundle. “There’s so much beyond the veil, and so many things in our world that aren’t ‘normal’ . . . and most folks don’t have the first idea how to deal with them. So they meet someone who doesn’t think they’re crazy, and they latch on. There’s a hunger for knowledge out there.”

“Speaking of hunger . . .”

“Thai food?”

“Lily, I do believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

***

It took some fast-talking, but Inspector Crawford agreed to ask a couple of police officers to serve as backup for the Halloween ball. They would dress as a vampire couple. Lily provided them with capes.

I completed my obligatory round of phone calls recounting the legend of the Spooner family dolls to everyone we could think of: each of the student volunteers, Uncle Preston, Lurch aka Ed Gaskin, and Mrs. Gutierrez. I was counting on their efficient gossip network to spread the word beyond that group, to anyone else who may have been involved in Adam’s death.

I also tried to explain the situation to Adam. He seemed doubtful about our ability to find the person responsible for his death. But then, since he still wasn’t completely convinced he was dead, I guessed that was about par for the course.

The following night was Halloween. Lily and I met at Aunt Cora’s Closet to don our gowns and masks for the ball. Then Lily gathered her satchel with her spell-casting necessities, I hoisted up the doll of Reginald, and we walked toward Spooner House.

The Haight-Ashbury neighborhood dearly loves a party, and when costumes are de rigueur it doubles the excuse for fun. We had to push our way through assorted ghouls, goblins, and ghosts to reach our destination. We took turns carrying Reginald, but luckily, on Halloween, no one seemed to give a life-sized doll a second glance.

As we approached Spooner House, I saw that the student decorating committee had come through: the garden was festooned with giant spiderwebs, complete with gargantuan black widows lying in wait. White figures fluttered in the eaves, approximating ghostly apparitions. Silhouettes of black cats decorated the windows, which were lit from within with an eerie orange glow.

The garden was as full of people as Haight Street. We saw costumes of all stripes, from classic spooky Halloween garb to more unconventional getups reflecting political figures and visual puns. I noticed a handful of young men in rent-a-cop outfits, and I hoped they were actually providing security for the party and not just playing dress-up.

“I guess they sold the rest of those tickets,” Lily said as we made our way up the porch steps, jostled by a rowdy group of partygoers who reeked of beer.

I thought about Duff’s macabre prediction that Adam’s death would only add to interest in the Halloween party. The idea depressed me.

“Backup’s waiting at the attic door,” said Annette as she joined us on the porch. She was dressed as an elegant witch: long black lace dress covered with a black cape, pointy black hat with netting, pointy black boots, red and white striped stockings.

“Wow, you look great,” I said. “That style suits you.”

“Always did love black.”

A small part of me prayed that Annette—smart, cynical, world-weary Annette—wasn’t going to start studying witchcraft. There was only so much my heart could take. I needed some friends who kept both feet firmly planted in the non-supernatural realm.

We showed our tickets at the front door and were waved inside. The foyer was bathed in black light and decorated with more spiderwebs, ghosts, jack-o’-lanterns, and skeletons. The air smelled like burnt pumpkin, and the sound system issued eerie pipe organ music, interspersed with ghostly howls and earsplitting screams.

We pushed our way through the raucous throng to reach the stairs. As we walked up the curving steps, I noticed that the light fixture Adam had been hung from was now bedecked in gauzy gray strips; they seemed apt for this Gothic haunt. I peered over the rail to the crowd below but saw no obvious murderer watching us ascend, no one displaying clear-cut signs of guilt. On the contrary, with the house full of people playing at being monsters and serial killers, how would we find our needle in this costumed haystack?

When I started back up the steps, Adam was right behind me.

“Mel, what is going
on
? Who are all these people?”

“It’s the Halloween Ball,” I said over my shoulder.

A man dressed as Frankenstein thought I was talking to him. “Yeah . . . I get it,” he said.

“Sorry, I wasn’t talking to you, I—”

He moved on without waiting for the rest of the explanation.

“The Halloween Ball? Tonight?” said Adam.

This time I just nodded.

“I don’t like all these people here in the house,” he complained, and made a face at a man dressed as a zombie cowboy.

Zombie cowboy shivered and moved away, a confused, worried look on his face.

I wondered. . . . Maybe I wasn’t the only one who could sense ghosts, at least some of the time. Either that, or Adam was getting the hang of this haunting thing.

The door to the attic was closed and locked. I used my key to open it, and Lily and I climbed up while Annette and the vampire duo tried to mix with the crowd, while keeping curious folks away from the steps.

I plunked Reginald down with the rest of his family and watched the dolls while Lily set up: Spreading out a white cloth, she laid her supplies out in a neat row: a hunk of rope, several different kinds of plants, polished stones and crystals, a couple of small jars holding powders, and a big-mouthed Mason jar full of brew.

She started mumbling what sounded like an incantation.

“I told you, she gives me the creeps,” Adam whined. “What’s she doing now?”

“Don’t you remember? I told you we’d be here on Halloween, and that Lily would try to release the spirits captured in the Spooner family dolls.”

He eyed the mannequins warily.

“Sometimes I think they’re talking to me,” he said in a small voice.

I nodded. “You’re not crazy. They seem to be . . . occupied by spirits. Hey, Adam, why don’t you help shoo people away from coming up here. Unless it’s someone you recognize, like any of the students, or your uncle Preston, or Mrs. Gutierrez, or Lurch. We want them to come up.”

“How do I keep people away?”

“Just . . . jump at them, and make a face, or whatever. You’re haunting this house, remember? Act like a ghost.”

“’Kay,” he said.

“I take it Adam’s here?” said Lily softly, eyes still closed.

“He just left.”

She nodded, then resumed chanting softly again; she opened her eyes and stood, then poured a circle of the brew from the jar, counterclockwise, around Thaddeus, Miriam, Betsy, Charity, and Reginald. Clockwise, she poured a circle of salt. She lit candles at five points on the circle and started chanting again. But now she seemed in a different world; she no longer responded to my whispered queries.

A ruckus at the bottom of the attic stairs drew my attention.

“Adam?”
called Tess as she reached the top of the stairs. She was wearing a skimpy genie costume, complete with a tall hat and a pink veil that didn’t hide her tears. “Are you saying he’s
here
?”

“C’mon, Tess,” said Riley, right behind her. Riley was wearing a Bavarian-style costume that put me in mind of an advertisement for beer. “Don’t go up there, you—”

Next came Byron, yet another person dressed as a vampire. It was a perennial Halloween favorite after all; all you needed was a cape and a set of fangs.

Lily, meanwhile, seemed to remain in her trance, mumbling within the circle of salt alongside the Spooner family dolls. I wished I could consult with her: Our trap seemed to be catching not one murderer fearing discovery, but all of Adam’s heartbroken friends. They probably were too curious not to at least take a peek in the attic. Theater types.

“Tess, get out of here. I mean, seriously, this could be dangerous,” said Byron.

“He’s right, Tess,” said Riley. “Tell her, Mel.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Betsy starting to move.

Tess screamed as soon as she noticed the doll’s movement. Riley’s mouth dropped open.

Annette bolted up the stairs at the sound of Tess’s scream, her hand on the weapon I knew she was wearing under her cape. I motioned to her to stand back.

Then Charity began to stand.

“No effing way . . .” Byron whispered, his eyes on the dolls. Tess fainted at that point, and Byron barely caught her before she fell. He laid her gently on the ground.

“Oh . . .
hell
no,” said Riley as she hurried out of the attic.

“What . . . no way, the legend’s true?” said Byron, still stroking Tess’s hair.

That’s when I noticed Byron’s vampire cape didn’t look like the cheap imitations worn by most partygoers, or even the costumed police officers. His looked like quality construction: black silk with a red satin lining. And there was an insignia at the throat: an ornate embroidered “S.” I remembered it from the family photo that included Reginald wearing his special cape.

“Nice costume, Byron,” I said. “That cape looks like a genuine vintage item, like something my friend Lily here would sell at her shop.”

His eyes never left the bizarre tableau in front of us: All the dolls except Reginald were now standing up, and appeared to be dancing.

I looked at Lily, who was no longer in her trance.

“Is this normal?” I asked her out of the side of my mouth. “Why are they dancing?”