The Diva Haunts the House (30 page)

The girls squealed in horror, jolting me out of my selfish thoughts.

Jen aimed a quivering finger in the direction of Ray’s feet.

TWENTY-SIX

Mrs. Ferguson pushed Lilly behind her.

I didn’t see anything. Ray wore navy and maroon slippers, the kind with fabric encasing the toes and open backs that slapped the ground when he walked.

Wolf sprang toward him. “Take off the slipper.”

“What in tarnation . . . what is that thing?” Ray slid his bare foot out of the shoe and bent to peer at it.

I edged closer. On top of the slipper, a slimy worm, just like the one that had been attached to Frank’s neck, writhed slowly.

“You . . .” I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from finishing the sentence I almost blurted. Blake had been right all along. The leach gave Ray away. He must have nabbed Frank and left him in the casket. Only Ray didn’t realize that one of the leaches had landed on his shoe. It was a dead giveaway.

I had never considered myself particularly squeamish, yet the leaches and the realization that Ray killed Patrick sent chills rippling through me.

Wolf tore his gaze from the leach and shifted it to me. “Was Ray in the haunted house with you?”

“Not today.” Wolf’s meaning became immediately clear. Most people didn’t happen to have leaches hanging around their residences. Ray had to be the killer.

Ray held up his hands and backed away from Wolf. “Now hold everything there. I got me a feeling that you’re jumping to some kind of conclusion. What’s going on here? And what is that thing?”

I was proud of the girls for not blurting anything that might clue him in and make Wolf’s job harder.

“Oh my word! It’s a leach. He’s the killer!” Mrs. Ferguson apparently did not grasp the importance of keeping details quiet so the police could question the suspect.

“A leach?” Ray’s mouth pulled back in disgust. He limped toward it, raised his slipper-clad foot, and appeared to be ready to stomp on the leach, but Wolf stopped him.

Ray directed a grumpy look at me. “What you doin’ with leaches in my building?”

So he knew that was where he’d picked it up! Confirmation that he’d been in the haunted house when we weren’t there.

He glanced around at the people gawking at him and the leach. “Look, I haven’t been in any swamps or wherever those things come from. Is that why you’re shutting down the building? Because there are leaches loose in there? How the blazes did something like that happen? Some kid let them loose as a Halloween gag?”

Either Ray was a talented actor, or he didn’t know anything about the leaches. Risking Wolf’s ire, I challenged him. “So you admit that you entered the house last night or early this morning?”

Wolf shot me a look of daggers. “I think we’d better talk about this at the station, Ray.”

Ray’s eyes took on the appearance of a trapped animal’s and his mouth worked itself around in a full circle when he realized he’d been caught. His turkey neck wobbled. “Hold it, I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t done anything more than play an entertaining Halloween prank on the kids. It was all just in good fun. Though I have to say that I scared Frank Hart more than any of the children.” His eyes opened wide, as though he’d just realized he’d incriminated himself. “I mean days ago. I scared Frank so good he wouldn’t even go back in there.” His face wrinkled, and his bushy eyebrows nearly met over his nose. “Hold everything! If Frank was afraid to go back inside—what was he doing in there today?”

He gave such an innocent impression that I almost believed him. Questioning people was hard. How did Wolf know if they were lying?

Jen marched up and stood beside me, her hands planted on her hips in bossy mode. “You’re the one who opened the window every night!” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion and she shook a finger at him. “Did you plant the cigarette case with Viktor’s initials?”

Ray guffawed. “You’re one smart filly. I have an old engraving machine in the back and carved
VL
on it. Thought that added a spooky touch!” He beamed, clearly proud of himself.

Vegas joined us. “How did you make those little whooshes of air that flew over our heads?”

Ray ran his thumb and forefinger along the edges of his mouth and focused on me. “I thought those were one of your tricks.”

Crafty old coot. Was he denying responsibility so the kids would still be spooked about something? I just shook my head at him.

Wolf held out his arm as though he meant to steer Ray. “Come on. I have some questions for you.”

They walked away, and Lilly chirped, “Now I can stay for the party! The cops have the killer, Mom!”

Mrs. Ferguson sighed. “Lilly Michelle Ferguson, you are to call me every fifteen minutes.”

Lilly grabbed her mom in a bear hug. “Thanks, Mom! I promise I’ll call to let you know I’m okay.”

Mrs. Ferguson kissed her daughter and walked by me. She paused, ever so briefly, and hissed, “Jen’s mother is going to hear about this!”

I forced a smile that probably didn’t appear sincere. What else could I do? Jen’s mother would hear about it all right—from me! It wasn’t as though I’d
planned
a murder for Jen’s visit.

With the cops swarming our beloved haunted house, there wasn’t anything to do except head home. Humphrey and Bernie promised Jen they would be at her party before they turned down King Street. We walked in the other direction, encountering goblins and ghosts, both small and tall.

On my block, twinkling orange lights illuminated houses and bushes as dusk filtered in. Evil pumpkins grimaced at us, and eerie music could be heard all the way to the sidewalk.

When we reached my house, Jen and her girlfriends tore up the stairs to change clothes, chattering nonstop. The door knocker sounded ten minutes later. I grabbed a bag of miniature Reese’s peanut butter cups to rip open. I hadn’t anticipated trick-or-treaters quite so soon.

But it was June who waited on the stoop wearing her Mochie cat costume. She sailed past me into the house. “Jen called me. She, Lilly, and Vegas need a little bit of help getting ready for the party.”

Why did I feel left out? Even though I was delighted by the budding relationship between Jen and her Gramma June, I had a funny feeling they were up to something.

I located the orange bowl with a gnarled green witch hand that automatically cackled and grabbed hands when they reached for candy. In a gravelly voice it asked, “Want some candyyyy?” I filled it until a variety of sweets threatened to spill out of it, and I set it on the console in the foyer, so it would be ready when kids came by.

Since it would be a very late night, I made a pot of strong coffee and went upstairs to change clothes. As much as I loved my witch costume, I’d grown tired of it and donned a Wilma Flintstone dress I’d worn once to an event. I fastened chunky rock beads around my neck and fixed a faux bone in my hair. Best of all, I slid my feet into comfortable, barely there sandals.

The girls dodged me so I wouldn’t see them when I went downstairs. I poured myself a mug of coffee and retreated to my tiny den all alone to make phone calls about the haunted house being closed. From the den, I could hear footsteps dashing up and down stairs. Even my loyal buddies, Mochie and Daisy, had forsaken me for the excitement upstairs. At least they were having fun.

I chose my words carefully when I made my calls because I didn’t want to start unfounded rumors. Trying hard to keep Frank’s and Ray’s names out of it, I simply told most of the people that we’d found something there that caused the police to rope it off for further examination. I assured all the volunteers and their parents that our party was still on.

By the time I emerged, the world outside had grown dark. The door knocker sounded, and I could hear faint voices whispering on the other side of the door. I opened it to Harry Potter and his friends. No older than seven, they shrieked with delight when the witch hand in the candy bowl moved and the scary voice spoke to them. Over and over, they stuck their hands in to set it off, staring in awe. I waved at their moms and dads and closed the door.

When I turned around, June stood at the bottom of the stairs.

“Introducing the Be Witched Sisters!” June hit a button on a small gadget in her hand and lively 1920s music played. Jen, Vegas, and Lilly appeared at the top of the stairs in flapper outfits and, one by one, strutted down to the music.

“Aren’t they wonderful dresses?” exclaimed Jen. “We found them today for seventy-five percent off.”

A light knock at the door reminded me all too much of the night Patrick died.

Jen checked the peephole. “I don’t see anybody. Do you think it could be Gabriel?”

She opened the door, and little Gabriel, wearing his cute devil costume, solemnly held out a bag.

“I’m surprised his mother let him come here,” I whispered. “Hi, Gabriel!”

“It’s not his mother.” Vegas stared past him at the sidewalk. “Heather the Horrid brought him.”

June, Lilly, and I crowded closer for a better look.

“I bet she came to spy.” It hadn’t taken Lilly long to join the we-hate-Heather team.

“She must be freezing!” June said.

“She couldn’t have found a more revealing costume unless she wore a bikini as Malibu Barbie,” said Vegas.

The girls might not be old enough to recognize Heather’s costume, but the long blond ponytail gathered in a little tube at the top of her head, bare midriff, and see-through pants that blew in the breeze screamed
I Dream of Jeannie
.

Heather made a forty-five degree turn, snaked her arms out to the sides, and writhed more like an inept pole dancer than a graceful belly dancer.

“What does she think she’s doing?” June snorted. “I could shake my booty better than that. Oh, my word! What is that?”

In the distance, a headless skeleton walked toward Heather, its bones gleaming through the dark night. A moment later, the silhouettes of other people with the skeleton took shape. “Is that the boys coming down the street?” I asked.

Tittering and primping commenced around us. June shook her head. “Were we like that at their age?”

“Worse!” No sooner had I spoken than the girls shot out to the sidewalk. Gabriel had beat them there, but Heather was so entranced by dancing for the approaching skeleton that she didn’t notice Gabriel stepping off the curb into the street.

I ran out the door, but by the time I reached them, Jen had already grabbed Gabriel and held him in her arms. Between Jen yammering at Heather about Gabriel and Vegas yelling at Heather about Blake, not to mention Heather shouting at both of them, it was utter teen chaos. Why wasn’t I one of those people who could stick two fingers in my mouth and whistle?

I reached for Gabriel, who gawked at the skeleton. Fortunately, I knew the boy behind the bones. Blake must have had enough of being a vampire. “Jen, would you take your friends into the house, please?”

Three other kids whom I’d seen visiting the haunted house followed them. With my agreement, Jen’s mom had invited a total of seven kids to help her celebrate. Vegas remained behind, her hip cocked and her arms folded over her chest.

Holding Gabriel out to Heather, I hoped she would be responsible enough to care for him. His mother must have entrusted Gabriel to her niece again. I took a deep breath. I had enough going on. If Gabriel’s mother had confidence in Heather, it was none of my business. Was it? I hated to hand the little guy over to her. “Maybe you should wind up the trick-or-treating. It’s getting dark for someone Gabriel’s age.”

She grabbed Gabriel. “I hear you’re having a party.”

I couldn’t believe it, but the wistfulness in her voice made me feel sorry for her. For fleeting seconds, I wanted to invite her to join us. The poor girl had virtually been abandoned by her mother. Every bad call she made seemed to be a cry for attention. Was that why she had fixated on Blake? Was she seeking the attention she couldn’t get from her parents?

“That’s right. And you’re not invited.” Glee rang in Vegas’s words.

Ouch!
I had a feeling that might be retribution for Heather’s crack about Vegas’s mom.

Heather leveled a glare at Vegas that could only come from a reality show contestant or an overly confident teenage girl. “Stay away from Blake.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Consider yourself warned.”

“Enough of that! In the house. Now!” I gave Vegas a gentle shove to get her moving. No wonder they called it
in loco parentis
. Teens would drive anyone loco.

Relieved when Vegas was inside, I shut the door behind us and reminded myself that in less than twenty-four hours, Vegas, Blake, and Heather would no longer be my responsibility.

Vegas joined the other kids, and I hustled to the kitchen to make punch. Mars slouched comfortably in one of the fireside chairs with Mochie rubbing his head against Mars’s chin. Halloween candles glowed; the fire crackled, throwing shadows on the wall; and tiny orange lights illuminated the work areas. In spite of the spooky decor, my kitchen oozed warmth and comfort.

“Where did you come from?”

“I avoided the teen angst scene out front and came through the service alley.” Daisy sidled up to his chair for petting.