“I’m having lunch with an old friend.”

A.J. considered and discarded a variety of responses. She settled on the all-purpose, “Oh?”

Belatedly, though only by a second or two, Jake asked, “Would you like to join us for dessert?”

“I don’t think so.” Somehow, despite A.J.’s best intentions, it came out sounding like an action hero’s line seconds before he blew the bad guy away.

She couldn’t read Jake’s expression at all, and he seemed to be having a similar problem with her. He said, “Well, at least let me introduce you.”

“Of course!” It came out far too brightly, but she was oversteering, trying to make up for the snippiness of her earlier response.

Scrubbing her teeth with her tongue in search of any stray bits of spinach, A.J. slipped out of the booth and followed Jake through the crowded tables.

“How is your back?” he asked as an afterthought. “Are you back at work now?”

“It’s better,” she said. There wasn’t time for more as they had reached Jake’s table.

Jake’s companion smiled confidently up at A.J. Her eyes were a strikingly light shade somewhere between green and blue.

“A.J. this is J-” Jake broke off, looking confused, and the woman smiled that frank, white smile and offered her hand.

“Francesca Cox. But everyone calls me ‘Chess.’”

“Nice to meet you, Chess.” Chess? What kind of nickname was “Chess”? Affected was what it was.

“I’ve heard so much about you.” Chess was smiling.

Maybe it was intended as a pleasantry-well, it was almost certainly intended as a pleasantry, what was the matter with her? She was not this insecure. But it did bother A.J. that Chess apparently knew all about her, and she’d had no idea of Chess’s existence until that instant.

A.J. asked with all the cordiality she could muster, “Are you visiting or are you new to Stillbrook?”

“I’ve just moved here, yes.”

“How nice! Welcome to the neighborhood.” Welcome to the neighborhood? Break out the zippered cardigans. A.J. had morphed into Mister Rogers.

“It’s a lovely little town,” Chess said. She smiled at Jake. He, meanwhile, was doing his best impersonation of one of those Easter Island statues. Why did he look so… so stony if everything was on the up and up?

“It is lovely, isn’t it? You should see it in the autumn. Where are you from originally?” A.J. inquired.

Chess’s eyes flickered. “Oh, I move around a lot. I admit that’s one of the charms of a small town like yours. The idea of putting down roots, of getting to know your neighbors, of building a real home: it’s very… alluring.”

A.J. heard herself give one of those terse murmur-laughs that sounded uncannily like Elysia when she was displeased and barely trying to hide it.

“What do you do, A.J.?”

Apparently Jake hadn’t shared all the pertinent details if Chess didn’t know something this basic. Then again, she was probably just making conversation. Someone needed to.

A.J. replied, “I run a yoga studio.”

“Really? Now I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“What do you do, Chess?”

“I’m a travel writer.”

“That sounds like fun,” A.J. said politely.

“It is mostly.”

A.J. checked her wristwatch. “Gosh, is it that time? I’ve got to pay my check and run.”

Literally.

Jake said woodenly, “I’ll walk you out.”

“Nice to meet you, A.J.,” Chess said cordially.

A.J. paid her check and walked out of the dining room with Jake a silent presence behind her.

She knew it was unreasonable to be angry. She reminded herself that they didn’t-did not-have an exclusive arrangement.

As they reached the lobby front door, she said, “Chess seems pleasant. How long have you known her?”

Never one to waste time on polite chitchat, Jake said, “I’ve been meaning to call.”

A.J. couldn’t read anything in his expression. “Well, things are weird right now. I realize that better than anyone.”

“They are, yeah.” He raked an impatient hand through his hair. “Look, we need to talk. Are you going to be home tomorrow night?”

She hadn’t made her mind up about going with Elysia until that very instant, but A.J. suddenly realized how much she did not have the emotional energy for whatever this talk was about. “Actually, I’m going out of town.”

His face tightened. “Come on, A.J.”

“I’m not playing games,” she said. “I’m going out of town with Mother.”

“How far out of town?”

“Sussex County. Andover, to be precise. Don’t worry. She’s not trying to make a break for it. She’s going to stay with a friend for the weekend, that’s all.” She added, “If you want to talk, we can always use the phone.”

She didn’t like the expression that crossed his face. “This might be a little complicated for a phone call.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you when I get back.”

Jake nodded, looked away. Staring into the distance he said tersely, “I’m not enjoying this, you know.”

“I can see it. That makes two of us.”

Ten

A grinning skeleton leaned against the etched glass front of the long-case grandfather clock in the long reception hall of Medea Sutherland’s restored Victorian mansion. The black-flocked velvet walls were lined with horror movie posters with titles like The Devouring, The Girl in the Grave, She-Wolf.

“That’s Wee Geordie,” Medea said cheerfully, following A.J.’s gaze.

“Please tell me you found him on a movie set somewhere.”

Medea-Maddie Sutherland-laughed her unexpectedly raucous laugh. She was tall and mournful looking with gaunt features and black eyes beneath Joan Crawford eyebrows. In her black trousers and black turtleneck, she could have played the dour housekeeper in any number of low-budget scary movies, but in her heyday she had been cast exclusively as demon-possessed vixens or terror-stricken ingénues.

“A.J.’s afraid you dug him up in the garden,” Elysia remarked, and Medea laughed that deep laugh again.

“I’ve found interesting things in the garrrden, but no skeletons so far. Not human ones, anyway!” While most of Medea’s native Scottish accent had been trained out of her, she retained a small but definite Scottish burr, that charming way of rolling the Rs. “Let me take you up to your rooms and then I’ll give you a wee tourrr of the house.”

One thing for sure, Medea seemed in good spirits. If she was aware of Dicky Massri’s death, it clearly wasn’t ruining her day. She led them briskly down the long reception hall adorned with artfully placed fake cobwebs, gilt-framed mirrors with cracked glass, and a huge chandelier with flicker bulbs.

A.J. exchanged a glance with her mother. Elysia seemed to be taking it all in stride. The house was immaculate, so it wasn’t a housekeeping issue, just some very funky ideas about home décor. Medea had to be the oldest goth A.J. had met.

They reached the staircase to the second level and A.J. examined the gallery of old photographs and tintypes. “Are these your family?” she inquired.

“No, no,” Medea replied. “I just like the look of their faces.”

A.J. had no particular response to that, but if she had, it would have been lost as a small, furry creature came sliding down the banister. For a moment she thought it was a rat, although it looked more like a weasel. She let go of the banister and just missed stepping into Elysia, who had stopped on the stairs.

“What on earth?” Elysia stared as the black-and-white creature streaked past. “Was that a skunk?”

Medea chuckled at the very idea of such craziness. “It’s a ferrrret.”

“A ferret?”

“That’s right, hen. Her name is Morrrag.”

Morag the ferrrret had safely reached the lower level and scampered away into the gloom. A.J. and Elysia followed Medea as she continued the trek upstairs. They reached the top landing where the statue of a mournful marble lady weeping into a hanky seemed to be commiserating with A.J. over her weekend plans.