“Okay, the cards indicate that you will have a lover’s quarrel—oh, my. I didn’t ask the cards about you and Mac. . . .”

“Maybe they’ll fight about who the killer is,” Vi said. “Or Clyde will get tired of seeing him in that snowman sweater.”

I grinned at Vi. “That’s already happened. Don’t worry about Mac and me. We’re fine. What else do the cards have to say?”

Mom shook her head. “It looks like this will be a tough case. There are many secrets surrounding the situation and some of them are still hidden.”

In the past I would have said something like “super helpful as usual” but my new leaf dictated a more tolerant view. “Thanks, Mom. We can ask again when we know more.”

“Let me have a try,” Vi said. She grabbed the pendulum and set up her piece of paper with the big plus sign indicating the yes and no directions. The pendulum is only able to answer if given two choices.

“What are you going to ask it?”

“I’ll ask whether the killer will be caught before the weekend is over.”

Vi stabilized the pendulum and let it go. It hung from its chain, unmoving. Slowly it began to move in the yes direction.

“Well, that’s good news,” Mom said.

“Was the killer a knitter?” Vi asked the pendulum.

The pendulum swung rapidly in the yes direction. Vi looked up, her eyes intense.

Unfortunately, the pendulum seemed to sense Vi’s eagerness and refused to identify any of the knitters as the killer. By the time she had run through the list it was almost midnight and I could barely keep my eyes open. Mom and I both begged her to give it a rest.

I walked Mom back to the cottage and hurried through the snow back to the hotel.

By the time I got back to the room, the cold had seeped into my core. I wore a pair of Vi’s wool socks, three T-shirts, and my jeans to bed and still shivered. I was sort of wishing I had Mac’s snowman sweater as I struggled to get warm enough to fall asleep.

21

I am running through the snowy woods. The wind sucks the air from my lungs and snowflakes pelt my face, so I can’t see where I’m going. My heart races and I feel the panic rise in my chest. I’m looking for someone and getting more and more worried. I realize that I am lost. I can’t see the castle anymore and none of the trees look familiar. The snow is piling up so fast I can barely keep moving. My thin sweater doesn’t protect me from the cold and I am shivering.

Then I hear a weak cry. “Clyde . . .”

I run in the direction of the voice, then I hear it behind me—is it an echo? The sound is getting weaker. “Clyde . . .”

A gust of wind knocks me to my knees and I can’t breathe. Just as I fall into the snow on the forest floor I hear it again. “Clyde . . .”

I jerked awake in an unfamiliar bed and realized Vi was shaking my shoulder and saying my name.

“Clyde, wake up!”

I sat up quickly and still felt panicky from the dream.

“Vi, what is it?” I felt like I should have paid more attention to the dream. Something was wrong.

“I think I heard a noise in the hall,” she said. She pulled her fluffy robe tightly across her chest. Her hair was in a braid, but pieces had come loose while she was asleep. Her brows drew together and she looked every one of her seventy-three years.

“It’s a hotel, Vi. It’s probably someone going to their room.” I rolled away from her and pulled the covers over my head, trying to get warm and slow my heartbeat.

“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” Vi said. “This isn’t a party cruise. Everyone is asleep.”

Grumbling, I swung my legs over the edge and clicked on the lamp by my bed. I stood and walked to the door, cracked it open, and listened. There was a cold draft in the hall. I stepped into the darkened hallway with Vi. I was about to head downstairs to see where the draft originated when a door banged shut. The cold air stopped abruptly and I realized that the slamming door was in the turret room.

Vi grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the turret stairs. “It came from up there.”

We started to climb the stairs and then a low moaning sound began and increased to a shrill shriek.

“It’s the ghost!” Vi said. Her bony fingers dug into my upper arm and she slipped behind me on the stairs but I felt her pushing me upward.

“It’s not a ghost,” I said. I gripped the banister tightly and willed myself to continue up the stairs.

“Then what’s that noise?”

“It must be the wind,” I told her and tried to sound brave and not at all freaked out.

We made it to the closed door at the top. The noise was coming from inside the turret room.

I looked at Vi, took a deep breath, and turned the knob.

The door didn’t swing easily open, but as soon as I pushed it a few inches, the noise stopped. Just as we were about to step into the room, the white cat rushed out just like the night before when we had found Clarissa.

“She’s really spooked about something,” Vi said as we watched her race down the steps.

Inside, the room was frigid. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and spun to confront it. White filmy curtains billowed in the wind. Both windows were fully open and snow blew in onto the carpet.

Vi and I rushed forward to slam the sashes shut.

“What’s going on?” Isabel said from the doorway.

We turned quickly to see Isabel and Jessica standing just inside the room.

“We heard noises up here and came to investigate,” Vi said.

“Someone opened the windows, and the wind shut the door and trapped the cat,” I said.

Isabel and Jessica exchanged a look and they both relaxed.

“Mavis is downstairs in a state of high anxiety,” Isabel said.

“She claims she saw a ghost,” Jessica said.

“Mavis saw the ghost?” Vi sounded disappointed that we had only found a cat.

“She pounded on my door a few minutes ago,” Isabel said. “I had her wait in my room with Selma while I went to find Jessica.”

“It was so cold in the hallway,” Jessica said. “I checked all the doors to be sure they were locked and closed and then, while we were reassuring Mavis that everything was fine, the cat streaked past the doorway and downstairs into the lounge.”

“Why was she wandering the halls in the middle of the night?” Vi demanded.

Isabel’s lips thinned. “She claims she heard a noise in the hall.”

“What did Mavis see?” I asked.

“It’s not clear,” said Isabel. “She thought she saw someone walking down the stairs wearing a white old-fashioned nightgown, but when Mavis called to the person she just kept walking and then seemed to disappear.”

“Let’s go down and talk to her,” I said.

Every door was open and the knitters were milling about talking to Mac when we arrived back in the hallway. He was in plaid drawstring pants and an old Michigan State T-shirt. His hair was rumpled and he didn’t look happy at being dragged from his bed for a ghost sighting. Lucille stood next to him in a deep green quilted satin dressing gown. Her spiky hair was a bit lopsided and she looked more fascinated than annoyed.

“Phillip, I think you should go down there and check things out,” Lucille said. “I’m sure we’d all sleep better knowing there isn’t a ghost roaming the halls.”

Mac ran his fingers through his hair, making it look almost as spiky as his mother’s.

“We’ll go with you,” Vi said as we approached.

Mac turned and I saw relief and annoyance flash across his face.

“There’s no ghost,” Mac said. “I don’t know how to prove the castle is safe from something that doesn’t exist.”

Vi gave him a pitying look.

“We can go downstairs and check for cold spots,” Vi said in a tone that should be reserved for kindergartners. “If there was a ghost, there will be cold spots.”