The Saucy Lucy Murders (19 page)

“Quit nosing around about Whitehead’s murder. That’s my job.”

Lexie stiffened. “I’ve been far to busy with my aunt lately to go snooping around.”

He lifted a dark brow. “Good. Because you only complicate things when you get involved.”

Lexie released a frustrated breath. “Are you insinuating that what happened tonight is somehow my fault?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then what are you saying?” Lexie asked.

“Nothing.” His mouth quirked. “Just watch your back and mind your own business. It’s for your own good.”

Lexie shoved her hands on her hips. “Are we done talking, Detective?”

“Yes.”

“Good night, then.” Lexie stormed back to Lucy and Eva.

Otis walked up to Gabe and they shook hands. Then the detective got into his squad car and drove off.

“Does that police guy, like, have the hots for you, or what?” Eva asked. “’Cause if you’re getting hooked up, I want to know.”

“I knew it,” Lucy said with a grin.

“Stop it, you two,” Lexie grumbled. “There’s nothing between Detective Stevenson and me.”

“Shut up,” Eva said. “He called you by your first name.”

Lexie shrugged. “He’s working on a murder investigation and I’m a witness. Nothing romantic about that.”

“Let’s get going, Lucy,” Otis said when he walked up beside them.

“What about my car?” she asked.

“I’ll drive you over tomorrow to pick it up.”

“Talk to you later,” Lucy said to Lexie. She waved tiredly and walked with Otis over to the sheriff’s car. A few seconds later, they were gone.

Lexie gave Eva a big hug. “Thank you for the birthday party, hon, even if it didn’t turn out the way we wanted.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I feel so responsible for what happened to Elton.”

“You’re not. It was a terrible accident. No one was at fault.”

“I guess,” Eva said miserably.

“It was just an accident,” Lexie repeated sternly. “And we’ll call the hospital in a bit to check up on him. Now, let’s head inside. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

When Lexie finally crawled into bed, sleep refused to come. She’d called the hospital earlier to get a report on Elton’s condition and they said he was out of surgery, but still in critical condition. Lexie couldn’t stop thinking about him. And worrying.

Fitful dreams kept her tossing and turning. She woke several times and stared at the ominous shadows lancing across her bedroom. The night was warm, despite the fact it was October. At last Lexie glanced at her alarm clock on the bedside table.
Midnight.
What an unholy hour to find herself awake.

A fine sheen of sweat caused her thin nightgown to cling to her limbs, so she got up and opened her window wider. A warm breeze caressed her face and body, relieving the sticky sensation. Taking a deep breath, she studied her neighbors’ dry, withered lawns stretching like silvery material beneath the streetlights.

With the west still in the grips of a severe drought, Lexie wondered if it would ever get cold enough to rain or snow. No doubt they would have another brown, parched Christmas—just like last year. She stared up at the moon’s luminous, smiling face, imagining it mocked the waterless situation.

Well, she didn’t think it was one bit funny. And it was awfully hard for an avid gardener such as herself to have a decent crop of anything besides weeds in these conditions. Hopefully, the weather cycle would change again, for the better, and the drought would finally end.

Thump, thump.

Lexie looked up at the ceiling. The sounds seemed to have emanated from the attic.
Aunt Gladys.
What on earth was she doing? Had she fallen out of bed? Or perhaps she’d left her tiny television blaring.

Lexie reached for her bathrobe and headed into the hallway, figuring she’d better go upstairs and make sure the old loon was all right. She’d had an upsetting night and maybe she couldn’t sleep either.

Creak, creak
…

The ancient stairs complained as Lexie padded barefoot to the attic. At the top she stepped into a short hallway and reached the door to Aunt Gladys’ room. Even with all the renovations, Lexie’s nostrils twitched with the musty odor of century-old walls.

Lexie heard Aunt Gladys’ voice. And it sounded like Winkie was with her. What were those two doing at this time of night?

Lexie rapped on the door. “Aunt Gladys? What’s going on?”

No answer. A dog barked.

She raised her hand to knock again. “Aunt Gla—”

More barking—Muffin no doubt—and the door swung open.

It took a couple of moments for Lexie’s eyes to adjust to the inky blackness. Then she saw Aunt Gladys bathed in candlelight wearing a purple caftan covered in gold stars, golden, curly-toed slippers on her feet, her snowy white hair covered by a purple turban decorated with a tall ostrich feather. She clenched a cigarette, which was tucked into a long holder.

The scent of spicy incense wafted into the hallway and Lexie sneezed.

“Shhh, you’ll scare them away, Leslie.”

Lexie blinked. “Scare who away, Aunt Gladys?”

“The spirits.”

Oh, my.
“The spirits? What spirits?”

Winkie pulled the door open further and scowled at Lexie. “The spirits who were telling us what is going on in this wicked, wicked little town.” Muffin, who rested comfortably in his arms, yapped at Lexie. You couldn’t really call the rat-dog noises coming from the mutt real barks.

“OK, you two are busted. I heard weird sounds up here.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It wasn’t the boy-man—he must be out of town tonight. It was probably just Winkie moving his chair,” Aunt Gladys said.

Yap yap.

Ignoring Winkie’s rat-dog, Lexie pushed her way past the culprits and entered the room. She didn’t see anything out of order in the cozy quarters. Aunt Gladys’ curtained alcove with the bed looked fine as well as the little sitting area with the sofa and overstuffed recliner.

The round cupola nook, however, where Lexie had positioned the antique drop- leaf table she’d re-finished, along with two ladder-back chairs, looked suspicious. A board game of some sort covered the surface of the table with a thingie-ma-bob overturned on the top of it.

Lexie noticed the lacy curtains were pulled back, revealing a zillion twinkling stars in the dark autumn sky. Along the windowsill sat several chunky pillar candles, all ablaze with flickering light. The burners
nestled next to them were filled with tiny cakes of smoking incense.

Lexie whirled toward Winkie and her aunt. “Are you two insane? Do you want to set this house on fire again, Aunt Gladys?” Put those candles out this instant!”

Yap yap yap yap … yap yap!

“Oh,
pish, posh.”
Aunt Gladys spoke over the rat-dog’s protests. “Your sister Lucille is right, dear. You’re too melodramatic for your own good.” She took another puff on her cigarette.

“You shouldn’t be smoking either, Aunt Gladys.” Lexie folded her arms across her chest. “You know what the doctor said.”

She shrugged. “Dr. Demented is an old hack with a cork up his butt. I don’t give a hoot what he thinks.” Aunt Gladys stood by the drop-leaf table, her purple silk robe flowing gracefully around her as she sank into a chair. She frowned at the board game. “We had just gotten to the good part, Leslie. Now you’ve ruined it.”

Yap yap yap!
Muffin’s beady eyes glared at Lexie.

“Winkie, will you
please
tell me what kind of monkey business you and my aunt have been up to at this time of night? In the dark? And can you get that dog of yours to be quiet?”

Winkie stroked Muffie’s silky head and the rat-dog’s annoying
yap yaps
turned into low growls. “You’ve heard of a Ouija Board, haven’t you?”

“A what-gee what?” Lexie looked back and
forth between Aunt Gladys and Winkie. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“A Ouija Board,” Aunt Gladys said again. “Pronounced
wee-gee.
Didn’t you ever play it when you were a kid?”

“No.”

“Of course you wouldn’t have,” Aunt Gladys said with a nod. “Your father, the preacher, would never have allowed such a device of the devil in his home. How your mother stood his holier-than-thou ways all those years, I’ll never know.”

Lexie threw her hands in the air. “Would somebody please tell me what a
wee-gee
board in the middle of the night and trying to set my house on fire has to do with anything?”

Winkie took her arm and steered her toward the drop-leaf table. “Sit,” he commanded gently, prodding her into one of the chairs.

Against her better judgment, Lexie did as he asked. She studied the strange looking board with the thick black letters and the plastic what-cha-ma-call-it lying on top. “Once more, will somebody tell me—”

“The Ouija can conjure spirits from the Great Beyond.” Winkie matter-of-factly plopped Muffin on his special pillow. He dragged a stool over and sat beside Aunt Gladys.

Lexie wrinkled her nose. “What?”

“Dead people, Lexie.” Aunt Gladys smashed her cigarette butt into an ashtray. “In fact, we were just talking to Morris Van Scoy. He told us to call
him by his nickname, though.”

“Huh?” Lexie stared at Aunt Gladys. Good Lord, the old gal had really flipped her lid this time.

“Mortie had this house built in 1898,” Winkie said. “He was a banker.”

“Rich, too,” Aunt Gladys said. “He brought his wife and five kids out here from Indiana. The railroad had just arrived and Moose Creek Junction was booming. He thought he could get even richer.”

“Unfortunately, his wife missed her family back in Indiana,” Aunt Gladys said. “She got addicted to laudanum and it drove her crazy.”

“She killed herself in 1906,” Winkie added. “Poor Mortie was so sad. He had to raise the kids by himself.”

“He’d invested a lot in this town,” Aunt Gladys said. “But when the railroad pulled up stakes and left, Moose Creek Junction was left with only a few wheat and cattle ranchers.”

Winkie templed his fingers on the table. “Mortie lost everything, so he sold this house and moved back to Indiana in 1911.”

“It’s obvious where the Castleton curse came from,” Aunt Gladys said. “Mortie’s wife, Hortense, is still haunting this house. She brings disaster upon everyone who lives here. Your grandparents bought this place, and a few years later they drowned in Gun Smoke Lake in a freak accident. They left the house to my sister Lucille and her husband—your parents, Lexie—and look! They wound up dying in a tragic
automobile accident. I was even affected from my sister marrying into the Castleton clan—look at all the husbands I lost! Now, Lexie,” she said, staring deeply into her niece’s eyes, “the curse has come to haunt you. It’s the cause of all those murders you told me about.”

Lexie shook her head. “You’re kidding me, right? This is a joke.”

“This is no joke, Leslie. Mortie told Winkie and I some very interesting things. By the way, he likes what you’ve done to the house. Figures everyone else would like it, too.”

“Everyone else?”

“Everyone who has owned the house, you know. It’s been owned by many people, or didn’t you know that?”

“Whatever.” It was all nonsense and she had to admit it had her spooked. “OK, so you two think you talked to someone who has passed on. I acknowledge that. Now it’s time to put up the board game and call it a night.”

“I don’t want to,” Aunt Gladys whined. “You’re so mean. And I know you don’t like me staying here. Why, you’d rather I went back to that lunatic asylum with Dr. Demented and the panty thief.”

Lexie rolled her eyes. “Panty thief? What panty thief?”

“It was humiliating.” Aunt Gladys
harrumphed.
“No one could catch him, though we were certain it was one of the attendants sneaking around. When we were out of our rooms exercising or having game
night, he’d ransack all the ladies’ drawers, pulling out their panties and sniffing the crotches. I caught him once, the sneaky little turd. It was disgusting.”

“No way,” Lexie said. “Mountain Shadows is an expensive place. The staff would never allow such a thing to go on.”

“You think they actually cared?” Aunt Gladys tapped a be-ringed finger on the table. “People’s jewelry turned up missing. You better believe the panty thief was stealing that, too. I’m sure he gave half of it to the staff so they’d keep their mouths shut.”

Lexie reached over and patted Aunt Gladys’ age-spotted hand. “Honestly, you’ve got to quit imagining such things. Did you take your medicine this evening?”

“Of course I did! And I’m telling the truth.” Aunt Gladys started to cry.

“Now look what you’ve done.” Winkie patted Aunt Gladys’ back soothingly and Muffin growled at her from atop his special silk pillow.

Lexie felt awful. “Please, you’ve got to calm down, Aunt Gladys. Otherwise, you’ll wear yourself out and get sick. Then what will Bruce think about you staying with me?”

“Do you think he gives a hoot about his old mother?
Pffft.”
Aunt Gladys flicked her red-nailed, be-ringed fingers at Lexie. “All he cares about is making money. Hand over fist. Or whatever way he can. That’s all that matters to him. The curse has affected him, too. I’m just a nuisance to him, you know.”