Leighann Dobbs - Mystic Notch 02 - A Spirited Tail (6 page)

She got busy pouring the tea and handed me a cup. I looked into the cup, then narrowed my eyes at her. “You didn’t put anything in here, did you?

Pepper leaned back, a smile on her face. “Of course not.” 

Pepper had fancied herself to have a way with herbs since she was a teenager. She claimed she could use the herbs in her teas to help people feel better and push them along the ‘right path’. I’d always been skeptical, especially since her teas usually had the opposite effect of what she intended. Though I had to admit, they did seem to work sometimes … like earlier this summer when her teas had seemed to change Ophelia Withington from mean and bitter to nice and generous.  

“So, go on, tell me what happened. I heard Bruce was found at Van Dorn’s. What were you doing there?

I broke a cookie in half and nibbled on it while I told her about finding the body. Normally, I’d scarf down the whole cookie, but I’d noticed my jeans getting a little tight in the waist and figured I’d better start watching what I ate. Her eyes got wide when I told her about the mark on Bruce’s forehead. I finished the story by telling her about Charles Van Dorn’s ghost and the death of the starlet, Lily Johanson, fifty years ago with the same mark on her forehead.

“So, you think Charles lied to you about being murdered?” she asked.

“I have no idea. He left a note and confessed to killing Lily. But why would he lie to me?”

Pepper shrugged. “Who knows with ghosts? Maybe he’s up to something. But those murders have to be related. Does Gus know about the old murder?”

“If she doesn’t, I’m sure she’ll find out soon enough.”

“Well, this sure is turning out to be a mystery. Do you think Charles’s ghost killed Bruce?”

“It would make sense, but why would he do that?  And how?” I wasn’t sure if ghosts were capable of bashing someone on the back of the head and leaving marks on their forehead.

“Maybe he just wants to be left alone and figured a new murder would scare people off for another fifty years.” 

“He
did
say he wanted to be left alone, but also that he wanted me to find his murderer so he could move on.”

“Well, it sounds like you’ve got a real mystery on your hands.” Pepper’s eyes sparkled at me over the rim of her teacup. “You
are
going to investigate it, aren’t you?”

“I really shouldn’t. Gus warned me not to, but I have to admit, I am curious.”

“Pfft. Gus always warns you not to and you never listen. Are you sure you’re not hesitant because you know Striker will get mad at you?” Pepper teased.

I felt my face flame. I certainly didn’t decide whether to investigate or not based on if I thought my sort-of boyfriend would get mad. Did I? I mean, heck, we’d only had a few dates, and I wasn’t going to let anyone tell me what to do. 

“No. It has nothing to do with him,” I said, a little too forcefully. “And besides, I never said I
wasn’t
going to look into it. I’m just not sure how to go about it. I wonder if Van Dorn knows more than he’s letting on.”

“He was in the house and probably saw the whole thing. When do you go back?”

“I’m going to call Ophelia and see if we can go back tonight. I think she said the nephew was coming in today.” I glanced over at Ranger and Pandora. They were sleeping peacefully, Ranger on the floor and Pandora in the window. Could they be trusted alone together? Probably not. “Will you watch Ranger if I go back up there tonight?  I can swing by your place and fill you in when I pick him up.”

Pepper’s face brightened. “Sure. I love dogs.” 

“I hope I get a chance to talk to Van Dorn, because if he didn’t kill himself over guilt for killing Lily, then maybe he didn’t kill Lily.” 

“And if he didn’t kill Lily, he probably didn’t kill Bruce.”

“Which means the killer could still be out there somewhere.”

“And he’s still killing.”

Chapter Six

I closed shop at four p.m., leaving Pandora sunning herself in the window. After dropping Ranger off at Pepper’s teashop, I drove up to Van Dorn’s to meet Ophelia and the nephew. Pulling into the driveway, I noticed the police were gone, but the yellow crime scene tape remained. I wondered if the fact that a murder had been committed there would spook the new owner.

I made my way onto the sagging porch, glancing anxiously at the windows. I didn’t see any signs of a ghost and I felt anxiety building in my chest. I had hoped Charles’ ghost would be around—I had some questions for him. 

One of the double doors gaped open and I tapped on it, reluctant to enter uninvited. 

“Hello?” I yelled into the house.

“Come on in!” Ophelia’s reply echoed down the front hall.

Inside, the house looked different. Sheets had been pulled off a few of the pieces of furniture and boards pried from some of the windows to let more light in. I realized the inside of the house was in a lot better condition than the outside. I could see the house had been a showplace in its day. Carved moldings framed the doors and windows and intricate, scrolled details enhanced the ceiling fixtures and wall panels.  The furniture, while outdated, looked to be of the highest quality.

“We’re in here.” Ophelia’s voice drifted toward me and I followed it to the kitchen. Boards had been removed from the windows and the room was bathed in the waning late afternoon light, allowing me to get a better look than I’d been able to earlier that morning.

Large, dark wood cabinets ran the length of two walls. A soapstone sink set under a tall window interrupted the wooden counters and two ovens, one on top of the other, sat opposite it. A long, stainless steel prep table ran down the middle of the room. Ophelia had her head in one of the bottom cabinets, her back-end sticking up in the air in a most uncomplimentary way. A tall, thin man with longish, wavy brown hair was pulling things out of an open drawer and loading them into a cloth shopping bag. 

It looked for all the world as if they were looting the place.

I paused in the doorway. “Hi.”

Ophelia backed out of the cabinet and the man turned to face me. 

“Willa Chance, this is Steven Van Dorn, the new owner of the house.” Ophelia waved her hand between Steven and me. “Willa is an expert on books. I’ve asked her to appraise your uncle’s collection.”

Steven extended a large, callused hand toward me. I judged him to be near sixty years old and his face had an edge to it that said he’d had a hard life. His handshake was rough and the way he eyed me made me uneasy.

“You can call me Steve,” he said.

I glanced at the bag he held. “Packing up already?”

“Let’s just say I’m in need of immediate cash and this stuff is gonna sell like hotcakes on eBay.” He leaned closer to me and lowered his voice. “Especially now with the Van Dorn curse coming back into the public eye.”

I slid my eyes over to Ophelia, who shrugged.

“You don’t mind that someone was murdered in the back yard?”

“Mind?” He laughed. “Heck no, that’s gonna make this stuff more valuable! There’s already an interest in old occult legends and this new development is going to make the personal items of Charles Van Dorn highly collectable.”

I took a step backward, a bit put-off with his attitude. He seemed completely insensitive to the fact that a man was dead, focusing only on how much more that death would allow him to profit. 

I turned away. “I guess I’ll go start on the books.”

“So, what about those books? Are any of them any good?” Steve asked.

Just thinking of the beautiful books in the library warmed my demeanor. “I didn’t get a chance to look too closely the other day, but it does seem your uncle had some valuable volumes.  Just the sheer number of books is incredible. You might consider a specialty auction. I believe you’ll get the most money that way and it will be easy for you to consign the whole lot.” 

I felt a little sad about seeing the library empty of books, but at least an auction would insure they went to good homes.

He narrowed his eyes. “Well, I don’t wanna get ripped off. I have important uses for this money.”

“Oh?” I had a sneaking suspicion what he thought was important and what I thought was important were two different things.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Well, I can’t really say what they are, but it’s not all just going to me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll write up a full appraisal and list the most valuable books. You can double check those on eBay or with another appraiser if you want.” It was none of my business what he did with the money. It was my responsibility to do a good job appraising the books, and I took my responsibilities very seriously.

That seemed to satisfy him. 

“Okay, you get to it, then. I gotta grab a few bags from here and then get back to the motel and start listing. This time tomorrow, I might be upgrading my room.” He flashed a grin, which I noticed was missing several teeth, and turned back to the drawer.

I headed down the hall, past the butler’s pantry and the curtained room that I figured had been Van Dorn’s séance room. I was glad Ophelia and Steve would be busy in the other part of the house. I wanted to be alone in the library in case Van Dorn felt like making an appearance.

I pulled out my notebook and shut the door, wondering where to start. It made sense to pick a corner and work from one end of the room to the other, so I made my way to the opposite end, then crouched down to start with the books on the bottom shelf. 

Scanning the books, I pulled out the ones that would have the most value and combed the insides to get an estimate of condition as well as look at the edition, whether it was signed, and the publisher, all of which I recorded in my notebook. For me, it was relaxing work. I loved working with the books and was soon immersed in my own little world, barely aware of my surroundings.

I’d made my way halfway around to the edge of the fireplace when I felt something cold and wet at my elbow.

“Who is that odious man in my kitchen?” Charles Van Dorn’s ghost whispered into my ear.

“I hate to tell you, but that man is your nephew.”

Charles made a face, his form dissolving, then swirling back together. “Little Stevie?  Why, he’s practically giddy over selling off my kitchenware!”

“Apparently, the popularity of the Van Dorn curse makes your kitchenware very profitable. How come you didn’t mention the curse to me before?”

Van Dorn made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “That whole curse thing was sensationalism, manufactured by the press to sell newspapers. There is no curse.”

“But what about the markings on Lily Johanson’s forehead that match your logo? Did you kill her?”

“Certainly not!” Van Dorn’s face turned hard. “That’s what everyone thought, I know, but I didn’t do it.”

I slid another book out of its place to inspect the jacket, then snuck a sideways look at Van Dorn. “Did you know the man killed in your yard this morning had the same mark on his forehead?”

His eyes widened. “You don’t say?  That is odd. You don’t suppose the same person that killed Lily did this other person in, too?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t you see the murder?  It was right outside the house here.”

“I’m afraid I was off in the nethers and didn’t witness it.  His spirit must not have been restless as I didn’t even know something had occurred until I saw you out there.” Van Dorn glanced out the window. “Tell me, who was it that was murdered?”

“Bruce Norton.”

Van Dorn gasped. “No!”

“Oh, you knew him?”

“Yes, he used to come to my … umm … parties back in the day,” he stuttered. “I guess you could say we were friends.”

“Why do you think he would be in your yard, now, though?”

Van Dorn’s brow wrinkled, causing wisps of mist to swirl up toward the ceiling. “That’s a good question. I really cannot say.”

“And you didn’t have anything to do with his murder?”

“Of course not! How could I kill someone? I’m merely vapor and energy with no physical form to inflict harm.”

I chewed my bottom lip. What he said was true. I knew I could pass my hand right through him if I wanted. Then I remembered how the ghosts of Robert Frost and Franklin Pierce were able to pull books of the bookshelf in my store. If they were able to do that, then maybe Charles Van Dorn’s ghost was able to smash in Bruce Norton’s head.

I regarded Van Dorn with renewed suspicion. “Are you sure you were really murdered?  From what I hear, you killed yourself out of guilt after killing Lily Johanson. There was even a suicide note.”

“Staged!” he boomed. “I told you someone murdered me. I’m sure it was the same person who killed Lily. I believe they were trying to frame me—someone who was jealous and wanted me out of the way. That’s why they put my logo on her forehead.”

“Jealous?”

“Of my popularity and skills, I assume.”

“Oh, not like a jealous lover?”

Van Dorn looked insulted. “I should say not. What kind of a guy do you think I am?”

I shrugged.
Was he protesting a little too vehemently?

“So you weren’t involved with Lily romantically?”

“Of course not. My work was my whole life. And even if I was, which I wasn’t, then why would I kill her?”

I studied him while he swirled and misted anxiously. He did seem sincere and I couldn’t figure out what he would gain by lying to me. The scenario he outlined was entirely plausible.  I made a mental note to dig up whatever I could about his death and see if they’d even entertained the thought of it being murder.

As if reading my mind, Van Dorn spread his arms, smiled and said, “What would I have to gain by lying to you?  I’m seeking your help so that I can pass on to the next realm, which I would have done already had I not been held back by the unresolved issue of finding my killer, and the fact that I was quite comfortable hanging around in my own home,
undisturbed
.”

He did have a point. I decided to accept his story for the time being.

Crash!

Van Dorn grimaced and looked in the direction of the crash. “What
is
he doing in there? It’s so disrespectful. I have a good mind to head in there and do something otherworldly to spook him. That will teach him to come skulking around here at all hours of the day and night, touching my things.”