Haunted Hamlet (Zoe Donovan Mystery) (4 page)

“I know. I just feel like I let her down. She seemed to be leading me to the kittens and then she just disappeared. It was dark in the basement. I guess she must have stashed her babies toward the back of the room
, out of the way. I don’t even know if she had food and water.”

“Do you want to go back now?” Zak asked.

Actually, I did.

“Are you crazy
? It’s pitch-black out,” Ellie said. “The cat will be fine.”

“We have flashlights,”
I said in what I hoped was a persuasive voice. “And there are four of us, and you know what they say about safety in numbers.”

“Th
at sounds like the opening line of every horror movie I’ve ever seen,” Ellie pointed out.

“I’ll just pop in, get the cat and kittens, and pop out.
You can wait in the truck if you want,” I offered.

“Alone? No th
anks. Besides, if the cat and her kittens were in the basement, don’t you think Salinger and his men would have seen them when they showed up to rescue you? Don’t you think you would have seen them when you came to? Chances are the kittens, if they’re even in the house, are in a different room entirely.”

“Good point,” I had to admit.
“Salinger hurried me out of the house, but I did have a chance to look around the room a bit and it was completely empty except for the rags. I wonder where she could have gone.”

“After you blacked out
, she probably left the basement the same way she entered,” Levi theorized.

“Let’s face it
: that house is huge. You’ll never find the cat in the dark. You should do as Zak suggested and go back tomorrow,” Ellie directed.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m sure the kittens will be fine one more night.”

The problem was that even as I said the words, I didn’t really believe them. I know that it was crazy to worry about the cat and her offspring. Ellie was probably correct and they were fine. As Zak drove us toward his lakefront home, I began to worry that the cat might have gotten out again when Salinger and his men were responding to my false alarm. I hated to think what would happen to the babies if they were separated from their mom overnight.

“You want to go back tonight
, don’t you?” Zak asked as we pulled off the main highway onto the road that led down to the lake and our home.

“I really do,” I admitted.
“I know it’s dark, but it’s only seven thirty. It’s not exactly the witching hour.”

Zak pulled over to the side of the roa
d and then executed a perfect U-turn.

“You think I’m crazy.”

Zak smiled. “Maybe a little, but I love that about you. In all the time we’ve been dating, I’ve never been bored.”

“I just can’t seem to get the cat off my mind. I know Ellie doesn’t think cats can become overwhelmed
, but she really did seem stressed. My guess is that she’s a recent stray and this is her first litter.”

“Don’t worry
; we’ll find her. If she led you toward the basement, then she’s most likely still in the basement, so we’ll look there first.”

“Thanks
. I’ll owe you.”

Zak grinned. “I like it when you owe me.”

“Yeah, I bet you do.” I grinned back.

If
the Henderson house was frightening by day, it was downright terrifying at night. At least I had Zak and the largest flashlight I could find with me this time. Two-storied, with an attic, it sits toward the back of a large, overgrown lot surrounded by an iron fence and an impenetrable gate that opens onto a dirt drive leading to a walkway comprised of four rotted steps and an equally rotted porch.

I began calling for the cat as soon
as Zak and I entered the house. I was certain the kittens would be found in the basement, but I could hear movement coming from the second floor. I followed closely behind Zak as we slowly climbed the stairs. He stopped abruptly as he came to the top.

“What is it?” I asked.

“You’d better call Salinger. It looks like your Zodar wasn’t on the fritz after all.”

“The monsters look awesome,” I commented as I walked in through the front door of the house Zak and I now shared carrying takeout bags filled with sandwiches and salads the following afternoon. Ellie had been experimenting with new menu items and had called to ask if I was interested in taking home some of her test subjects. Of course I was. I’m always up for free food, especially when it’s something Ellie whipped up in her magical kitchen.

Charlie and
Bella trotted up to meet me while Marlow meowed at me from the top of the stairs, though Spade was nowhere to be seen. Spade has always been the sort that preferred his own company to that of others, so I wasn’t overly surprised that he seemed to disappear more often than not in Zak’s huge house. If I had to guess, I’d be willing to bet that he was in Zak’s office, watching the fish in the 500-gallon saltwater aquarium Zak installed after our trip to Maui. Lying on the back of Zak’s leather sofa had become his favorite napping spot.

“I’ve been thinking about the overall impression of the house our guests will experience when the
y head into the drive. I think the lights are great, but if we really want to pull off the party of the decade, we need a lot more animation.” Zak’s eyes lit up when he said the last word.

“Animation?”

“Yeah. Things that move and jump out at you. What they offer in town is pretty limited, but I’ve spent some time on the Internet, and I think I’ve come up with a visual display that’s going to blow everyone away.”

Even I found
Zak’s obsession with this party odd. For years he’d traveled the world, not owning much of anything. In the year since he’d bought this house, he’d accumulated quite a bit of stuff, but the degree to which he was Halloween crazy seemed to be proportionately out of character.

“You ordered this stuff already?”

Zak nodded. “Overnight mail. It’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Great,” I said with more enthusiasm than I felt.

Don’t get me wrong; like I said, I love Halloween. I just didn’t want Zak to be let down if everything didn’t come together the way he’d imagined. I usually go overboard with grandiose expectations, while Zak is the levelheaded one. Had we somehow switched roles when we moved in together?

“I’m excited to see what you
’ve planned,” I said, like the awesome girlfriend I am.

I recently took
one of those quizzes in a women’s magazine that was supposed to tell you what kind of a girlfriend you were. The questions were ridiculous and seemed to have nothing to do with relationships; still, I was expecting to find out that I was the “Perfect Girlfriend,” or a “Best-Friend Girlfriend.” What I wasn’t expecting was to be labeled a “Self-Centered Girlfriend.” I mean, really, how can you tell what kind of a girlfriend a person is by asking them what kind of music they listen to, what their favorite color is, what type of flower they prefer, or, among other equally ridiculous questions, what they considered to be the perfect date?

I don’t put a lot of stock in these
kinds of quizzes and more often than not simply laugh off the results, but somehow after learning my result, I found that I wanted to be a more giving and supportive girlfriend.

“I was thinking that we could go to that traveling opera that
’s going to be coming to the Bryton Lake Community Theater next month,” I said as I attempted to score another point in the Best Girlfriend
Ever
category.

“You hate opera,” Zak pointed out.

“I suppose it isn’t my favorite thing, but I want to do something you’d enjoy.” I smiled sweetly.

“I see
.” Zak grinned. “I don’t suppose you took that quiz in the magazine you left on the coffee table.”

“How’d you know?”

“You circled your answers.”

Zak came over and wrapped his arms around me. “Just so you know, I think the only reason you weren’t happy with your answer is because the stupid quiz didn’t even have the right answer as an option.”

“Oh, and what would that be?”

Please don’t say
The Big Ol’ Mess Girlfriend with commitment issues and a tendency toward jealousy
, I thought to myself.

“The right answer would be,
” Zak kissed the tip of my nose, “the perfectly original girlfriend who has a compassionate heart and a strong spirit that I am madly in love with and want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Oh
.” I hugged him. “You’re the best boyfriend. I don’t deserve you.”

“I think you do, but if you want to do something you think I’d enjoy
, I’m pretty sure it’s not the opera.”

I smiled as Zak grinned at me. I love that he can’t seem to keep his hands off me in spite of the fact that we
’re now living together.

“Later,” I promised. “For now
, I want to know if you found out anything about the victim in the Henderson house while I was in town.”

Zak kissed me firmly on th
e lips and then took a step back. “Let’s eat and I’ll fill you in.”

It was warm for October
, so we took our food out to the deck. There are October days in Ashton Falls when the weather is simply perfect: clear sky, blue lake, no wind, warm temperatures. Today was one of those perfect autumn days. I unwrapped the crab sandwich Ellie had insisted I try and gave half to Zak.

“This is wonderful,” I said after taking a
bite so large my mouth could barely contain the wonderful combination of flavors.

“It’s got a kick
, but not so much as to make it unbearably hot. I like it,” Zak agreed.

“The pasta salad Ellie
sent looks really good as well.” I peeled off the lid and handed Zak a fork. “When she said she added some pasta salad to our bag I was picturing something heavy, but this is actually refreshing. So fill me in on what you found while I was out.”

The previous night we had not only found the mama cat and her four newborn kittens,
all of which were tucked safely away in one of our spare bedrooms, but also the body of the man we’d noticed in the costume shop on Friday evening. He was lying at the bottom of the stairs that led from the second floor to the attic. It looked as if he had simply fallen and broken his neck as he attempted to access the attic via the steep, narrow staircase. Salinger didn’t suspect foul play, but I wasn’t so certain.

Zak picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth before speaking.
“The victim’s name is Adam Davenport. He was a scholar, writer, and filmmaker. He came to Ashton Falls two weeks ago to film a documentary about paranormal activity in this area.”

I swallowed and set my sandwich down.
“You’re kidding. The guy was a ghost hunter?”

Except for the f
act that a man was dead, which was always a tragic thing, the setup was too good to be true: a ghost hunter falls victim to the spooks he’s studying right before Halloween. Talk about a perfect plot for a cheesy movie.

“
I’m not sure if ‘ghost hunter’ is exactly the right term, but according to what I’ve been able to find, the man was a legit ghost researcher. He had a doctorate in consciousness studies from a major university and was widely respected in his field.”

“Consciousness studies?”

“It’s a field of study that focuses on moving toward an integrated understanding of human consciousness by bringing together differing fields, including philosophy, neuroscience, medicine, and the physical sciences. I know it sounds pretty out there, but there are accredited colleges that offer postgraduate work in the field.”

“So why was he here? In Ashton Falls?”

“To study the Henderson house. He wrote a paper about six months ago chronicling the paranormal activity in the house and came to the area to prove or disprove the presence of paranormal beings.”

“Okay
, so this guy is in town to study paranormal activity in a house where weird stuff has been happening for years and mysteriously falls down the stairs. Seems like a pretty big coincidence.”

“Yeah, I have to agree.
”

“Have you informed Salinger about the man’s profession?” I asked.

“I did. He’d already discovered most of what I found on the Web.”

“
And does he suspect a supernatural cause for the man’s death?” I wondered.

“He does not.”

“But we’re thinking there could be something more going on?” I fished.

“It does seem like the circumstances leading up to his death point to something more,” Zak agreed.

“So you think he was killed by a poltergeist,” I added.

I could tell by the skeptical look on Zak’s face that of the two of us
, I was the
only
one who believed that our suspect might just possibly be living impaired.

After lunch, Zak and I attended an emergency meeting of the events committee. Joel’s haunted barn was the cornerstone of the five-day event, but Salinger had closed off access to the Henderson property, which meant we were once again without a venue for the most popular event of the Haunted Hamlet. Without it, it was doubtful that we’d be able to attract the visitors we needed to make the fund-raiser a success. Given the fact that the meeting was unplanned, only half of the committee members were able to make it on such short notice, but Zak came with me, bringing the total to seven. Normally, event committee meetings were held in the back room of Rosie’s Café, but since today was a Sunday, Rosie’s was packed. Hazel Hampton, our town librarian, was off for the day and offered her spacious living room as a substitute.