Merry, Merry Ghost (22 page)

Jake frowned at him in bewilderment. “Why would I do that? The pot was clean and waiting on the tray. I lifted the lid and poured in the cocoa.” A look of horror crossed her face. “I stirred it.” Her hand slid up to clutch at her throat. “Do you think there was digitalis in the pot?”

“That is a possibility. What time did you prepare the cocoa?”

“Just after everyone left. It was about eight-thirty.” Her lips clamped shut.

“I’d like to see where the chocolate service was kept.”

I followed Cobb and Jake to the kitchen. She pointed at the far end of one counter near the pantry. “Every morning I brought the tray down and washed everything up. I put the tray there.”

He made a note. “Did anyone else ever use the service?”

“Oh no.” Jake stared at him with huge eyes. “Everyone knew that was for Susan’s cocoa.”

Cobb glanced from the counter to the swinging door that opened into the main hall.

I timed Cobb and Jake’s passage from the kitchen to the living room. It took only a matter of seconds. As they walked into the living room, I waited until the door closed behind them. I appeared. I wasn’t worried about anyone coming out of the living room. Chief Cobb had much more to discuss with them. Since the hall was chilly, I changed into a pink velour blouse and slacks and pink loafers, and a wristwatch with a pink leather band. I do like pink. I checked the time down to the second. I paused in the hallway, taking a careful glance around as someone last night must have checked to be certain no one was watching. I walked up the stairs, quickly, quietly, softly. Again I looked about in the upper hallway. No one. Twenty-eight steps to Susan’s room. I disappeared, slipped through the closed door, reappeared. Twelve steps to the bedside table where the pill containers had stood. They were gone, most likely removed by the crime lab. I didn’t need them. I pretended to pull a tissue from a container, pick up a plastic vial, twist off the cap, empty a dozen pills into my hand, replace the cap. Twelve steps to the door. I disappeared. In the hall, I reappeared and, after a swift glance about, hurried downstairs. At the door to the living room, I looked at my watch. I had gone up and down in three minutes and forty-six seconds. I walked down the hall, entered the kitchen, pretended to drop pills into a china pot, then walked back to the front hall. I disappeared and returned to the living room.

The atmosphere was tense.

Harrison looked both upset and frightened. “…certainly do not appreciate the inference that I might have drugged Susan merely because I was absent from the living room for a few minutes during our after-dinner coffee Saturday evening.”

Dave Lewis looked pugnacious. “I used the downstairs lavatory. I didn’t go upstairs.”

The Hammonds and Tucker spoke out, insisting they too had remained on the first floor.

Cobb was bland. “However, each of you was absent from this room at some point during the evening while Mrs. Flynn was still downstairs. Each of you, therefore, had equal opportunity to go upstairs to Mrs. Flynn’s room, take the digitalis, and return downstairs, either to place the digitalis at that time in the china pot waiting in the kitchen or during another absence from the gathering.” He gazed at Jake. “What time did you fix the cocoa?”

Jake spoke hurriedly. “I was later than usual because after dinner Susan stayed downstairs until everyone left.”

Cobb’s eyes were bright and alert. “Was this unusual?”

Jake moved uneasily in her chair. Her eyes darted around the room. “Oh.” She looked uncomfortable. “Susan rarely came down for dinner anymore but this was special. We had the annual outdoor tree trimming in the afternoon. The whole neighborhood is invited. Susan expected us to come. Of course”—she looked at guarded faces—“we all loved the tree party. It was always a fun afternoon. Then Susan asked everyone to come back for dinner at seven because, well, I guess she wanted to see everyone again.” She added hurriedly,

“Christmas, you know. There’s never much time to visit during the tree trimming. Anyway, Susan went off to rest. We all gathered again for dinner at seven.” She concluded in a rush as if successfully completing a race.

Cobb looked at each face in turn. “Everyone in this room not only saw Susan Flynn yesterday afternoon but was present for dinner. In fact, she especially wanted each of you to return for dinner. Why?”

“Susan was terribly fond—”

“Let it go, Jake. Even if you have a guilty conscience, I don’t.” Tucker’s expression was amused.

“Tucker, that’s a terrible thing to say. Susan was very fond of all of us and that’s why she wanted to talk to us.”

All humor gone, he sat straighter. “Coincidences happen, Chief Cobb. Once I had a mare stolen and the next day somebody called and tried to sell me a mare that looked just like her. It turned out to be a different horse altogether. What are the odds? Anyway, last night Susan brought all of us together after dinner to talk about her will. I told her at the time she didn’t owe us any explanations, but she was always direct and open. I guess you’ve got the drift that her grandson arrived out of the blue. Susan had her lawyer investigate and she got plenty of proof that Keith is her son Mitch’s child. Susan told us she intended to change her will and leave everything to Keith though she made it clear she was providing generous bequests for all of us. She’d already worked everything out with Wade Farrell so I guess the old will is out. Now everything will go to Keith, instead of being divided among us.”

Gina watched her brother. A telltale flutter moved one eyelid.

Peg’s face creased into a puzzled frown.

“It’s a shame she died before the new will could be drawn.” Harrison shook his head as if in regret. “Barring a new will, it seems obvious to me that the old will stands. However, all of this discussion of her estate seems distasteful. There is no proof that Susan’s death was anything other than an accident or possibly a result of misjudgment on her part.”

Gina turned a bracelet on her arm. The gold band had a cunning inlay of diamonds in the design of tiny Christmas trees. “We can ask Wade Farrell about the will.”

I felt content. Soon they would meet with Wade Farrell and they were in for a shock. Especially one of them.

Tomorrow morning in the mail, Wade Farrell would receive the holographic will unmistakably written and signed by Susan and witnessed by Leon Butler.

Harrison’s nod was pleased. “That’s a good idea, not that there’s any doubt about the current will standing.

I’ll call Wade and suggest we all be present for a formal announcement, possibly tomorrow afternoon.

Certainly we are entitled to have an idea of what amount we will receive.” For an instant there was an empty look of fear in his eyes.

Was he wondering if the inheritance was going to be enough to keep him out of bankruptcy?

“I don’t like this talk about Susan’s will. It’s as though”—Jake glared at Cobb—“you are suggesting someone killed Susan for her money. That’s horrible. Besides, the whole idea of murder is absurd. There are too many things that haven’t been explained: my car being stolen and where Susan went last night, if it was Susan, and who that redheaded woman was. If Susan drove out with someone none of us knew, maybe they came back here together and that woman put digitalis in her cocoa and Susan drank it. Or Susan got confused and took too many pills. Then there’s that pillow on Susan’s face. Why, that’s crazy enough to prove something weird was going on. And,” she concluded triumphantly, “none of us know anything about any of it.”

Chief Cobb closed the legal pad. He gave it a thoughtful glance, then stood. He was a big man, a powerfully built, impressive man with a face seamed by effort and intelligence and experience. He stood in that elegant living room, his gaze steady. And grave.

“All of these matters must be explained, including the fact that after death, Susan Flynn’s body was moved.

She died lying on her left side. Someone put her body on the floor on her back. This changed the settling of her blood. A pillow, smeared with her lipstick though she wore no makeup, was placed over her face.”

Jake shuddered, shook her head in negation. She looked as if she wanted to run away.

Gina gripped her bracelet so hard her fingers showed white. She stared at the floor, her face half hidden by a swath of drooping hair.

A frowning Tucker glanced from Jake to Peg to Gina as if judging and measuring and wondering. He no longer slouched, but sat upright, slightly bent forward.

Peg pressed one hand against her lips, her round face creased in distress. Dave slipped an arm around her rigid shoulders. She seemed unaware of him.

Harrison drummed the fingers of one hand on the arm of his chair. A slight tic pulled at one eyelid. “Possibly so, possibly not. Science is often discredited these days. In any event, whatever happened, the movement of Susan’s body is irrelevant to the cause of her death and the suggestion of murder has yet to be proven.”

Charlotte’s intelligent face looked thoughtful. “Susan on the floor and the pillow on her face made a huge difference, didn’t they, Chief Cobb?”

“An enormous difference. An alarm was raised. The police were summoned. An investigation began. An autopsy was performed. That autopsy revealed death was caused by a massive overdose of digitalis, not suffocation. Let’s consider what would have happened had Mrs. Flynn’s body been found in her bed this morning. The doctor would have been summoned and death by heart failure recorded. There would have been no police, no investigation. Instead, I’m here today because her body was found on the floor, a lipstick-smeared pillow on her face. Someone suspected that Mrs. Flynn had been murdered and was determined to have an investigation made.”

There was not a breath of sound or movement.

Chief Cobb’s heavy face was somber. “Whoever set up that scene, tell me what you know. Before it’s too late.”

I gently pulled the
soft blanket over Keith’s shoulders, bent to lightly kiss his cheek. He slept with his lips curved in a smile, one arm tucked around the soft furry plush of Big Bob’s arm. Was Keith remembering the thrill of setting the glistening star atop the tall tree, or the fun of hide-and-seek, or possibly, deep inside, to be held forever, the joy in his grandmother’s eyes as she curved an arm around his shoulders?

Whatever the source of that faint smile, I knew that Susan was pleased that her grandson was safe and secure in Pritchard House. Tomorrow when Susan’s will reached the office of Wade Farrell, Keith would be established as her heir. My task would be done and it would be time for me to board the Rescue Express.

I had one more day to enjoy Adelaide’s holiday bows and bangles.

CHAP
TER TWELVE

S
oft December sunlight splashed cheerfully into the living room through the east windows. Peg placed an alphabet block—letter
K
—on top of a stack of seven on the fireplace hearth. This morning’s modest fire crackled cheerfully behind the black mesh screen.

Keith whooped, “Keef,” and knocked over the blocks, then rolled in laughter. He looked happy and well cared for in his new red turtleneck with Santa Claus on the front and brown corduroy trousers and fancy sneakers that flashed as he walked.

Though she was pale and drawn, Peg’s face lighted for an instant. “That’s one more for you. You have five and I have three. This time, you build the tower and tell me which letter I can push. Let’s pick out a letter.

How about
C
?”

Keith nodded, his face intent beneath the tangle of blond curls. His slender fingers hovered over a mound of blocks.

I smiled though I was restive and hungry. Last night, lurking in the kitchen, I’d managed a lovely dinner, taking advantage of the generous outpouring of food from friends and church ladies. However, breakfast had been hit-or-miss, cadging tidbits while Jake, Gina, Peg, and Keith ate largely. Keith had beamed a brilliant smile at me, but he had a mouthful of waffle and didn’t say hello. My measly single slice of bacon and sparrow-sized serving of scrambled eggs hadn’t satisfied. Wiggins had never explained how one was to be on the earth, thereby requiring sustenance for energy, but not of the earth with the right to sit at table for meals.

Next time I traveled back to earth as an emissary, I’d have that little matter straightened out. I was confident I would be dispatched again because I’d done so well in this instance, assuming Wiggins was feeling charitable enough to overlook my encounter with the church secretary, the befuddlement of Officer Cain, and Susan’s slight delay in departing.

His small fingers agile, Keith selected the block with
W
and placed it in the exact center of one of the hearth tiles. Next came
S, B
—

Jake pattered into the living room, her face worried and abstracted. “Wade’s secretary called. We’ll meet at two o’clock this afternoon in his office.”

“Can’t the vultures wait until after the funeral?” Peg’s voice wavered.

Jake’s face flushed in outrage. “Missy, you keep a civil tongue in your head.”

“Is that horrible will more important than Susan? How can any of us go to Farrell’s office and not be ashamed? Everything”—Peg waved her arm—“should belong to Keith. That’s what Susan wanted. One more day and this house and the ranch and the money would be his.”

Jake’s hands clenched. “Susan wanted me to have this house. I’m the one who’s taken care of everything and kept the house going and made it beautiful the way Susan always did. Susan appreciated me. She told me more than once that she was glad Pritchard House would be mine, that I would always love and care for it.”

Jake’s eyes swept the ornate and elegant living room with pride and passion and possessiveness.

Peg looked at her mother with compassion, but spoke with stubborn honesty. “Pritchard House should belong to Keith.”

“He can live here.” Jake’s cry was forlorn. “Of course we’ll take care of him. But Susan promised the house to me. She promised!”

Peg’s eyes brimmed with tears. “We can’t pretend we don’t know what Susan wanted. Instead, everyone wants to know what they’ll get. Susan’s dead and no one cares. She was kind and brave. The world took her heart and crushed it and she kept on going and then she had a chance to be happy, to love Mitch’s little boy, and someone killed her.”