But Lilly never came out with the truth about Maggie. Why?

"I asked Eddie that, too. He said there was something on Dr. Lilly's laptop that was pretty incriminating. Maggie Kline had sent the woman an e-mail promising to give Lilly an exclusive interview during Quindicott's Film Noir Weekend-but with one stipulation. Dr. Lilly had to keep Maggie's true identity in the strictest confidence and only reveal it at the time of her second book's publication."

Very clever. The Kline broad knew Dr. Lilly would never get the chance to publish her second book.

"Right. Maggie was already planning to kill the woman and make it look like she'd died in an accident. Then Maggie could go on to exact her revenge on Hedda and Pierce, killing them without anyone suspecting she had a motive."

Jack whistled. That was quite the little murder plot.

"Well, it was concocted by a screenwriter. And guess what? After Maggie was arrested, I went back and took a harder look at her books. I even looked up summaries of her old screen and teleplays on the Internet, too. And lo and behold, most of the woman's stories were revenge fantasies." I shook my head. "Maggie Vreen Kline never got over what happened to her father and her family and herself."

But you said it yourself, baby, the key word wasn't revenge. It was fantasy. If Dr. Lilly hadn't decided to dredge up the past again and rub Maggie Kline's nose in it, the Kline broad probably would have let the past fade away, just like Hedda and Pierce's careers.

"I think you're right about that… I mean, she never actively tracked Hedda and Pierce down to harm them. Maggie said it herself the night she was arrested: She just couldn't take her father's murderers being honored, being celebrated." I took a breath, considering Maggie's story.

"It's so sad when I think of what she must have gone through as a little girl… knowing her father died a horrible death, watching the unfolding scandal in the papers, the shame her mother must have felt-even to the point of drinking herself to death. I can only imagine Maggie's own pain, finding herself alone in the world at such a young age, being adopted by a family on another coast. Her feelings of anger and vengefulness toward Hedda and Pierce must have been off the charts for a long time… and, I guess, after all these years, Maggie finally did get her revenge on them."

But don't forget, doll, she took innocent people out with them. She became as cold-blooded a murderer as Hedda. "And she almost got away with it, too… " If it weren't for you. baby.

I smiled. "And you, too. Jack. Partners, remember?"

Jack grunted, which I took for full agreement.

"Anyway," I said, "it looks like your cold case is closed, too."

Yeah, and Hedda's granddaughter, Harmony, turned out to be an innocent after all.

"I don't know if I'd use that word. The girl's already started partying, I hear. She's moving to New York City next month. She's due to inherit a lot of Hedda's money-of course, there's one big stipulation."

Let me guess. She has to ride Hedda's horse two hours a day.

"Close. To keep her share of the inheritance, she's got to devote a large block of it to creating a Hedda Geist Museum, filled with costumes and scripts that the old actress kept preserved in plastic from her days as a femme fatale."

You know, doll, that doesn't really surprise me.

"Me, either."

Once a diva, always a diva.

Just then, another episode of Jack Shield started up on the television. Spencer and I watched for a while. Every few minutes I'd hear Jack gripe about how silly the show was or ask, Do you know how often a real gumshoe would do that? Never.

Finally, the show ended, and Spencer went off to bed. I kissed my boy goodnight and headed to my own room. Jack had gone quiet by now, so I clicked off the light and settled under the covers. Then, just as I closed my eyes and started drifting off, I heard the ghost's familiar deep voice again, rumbling through my mind-

Hey, baby?

"Yeah?"

Remember when I kissed you? Back in '48? In my ransacked office?

"Yeah." My eyes were still closed. I smiled. "I remember, Jack."

Remember what you were thinking? "I was thinking that it felt like heaven."

Just wanted you to know… it felt like that for me, too. Heaven, I mean.

There was a long silence after that, so long that I thought Jack had gone away, until I heard the faintest whisper.

I'll see you in your dreams, baby…

Then the ghost's presence receded once more, into the fieldstone walls that had become his tomb.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alice Kimberly is the pen name for a multi-published author who regularly collaborates with her writer husband. In addition to the Haunted Bookshop Mysteries, she and her husband also write the bestselling Coffeehouse Mysteries under the pen name Cleo Coyle. To learn more about Alice Kimberly, the Haunted Bookshop Mysteries, or the Coffeehouse Mysteries, visit the author's virtual coffeehouse at…

www.CoffeehouseMystery.com