“I think the whole castle is a cold spot, Vi,” I said. “The window let in enough cold air for twenty ghosts.”
Vi sighed. “You’re probably right. It’s not like we’ll be able to tell the difference between regular cold and ghost cold now. Whoever opened the window was pretty clever.”
“Do you think the ghost opened the window?” Lucille asked.
Vi considered this and then shook her head. Mac and I exchanged a “how did we get here” look.
“I doubt the ghost would have messed with the windows,” Vi said. “It usually just walks the halls or looks out the window. Isn’t that right, Jessica?”
Jessica drew in a sharp breath at being pulled into the ghost discussion.
“I don’t know, Ms. Greer,” Jessica said. “I’m not a ghost expert.”
“Obviously,” Vi said. “But you know the stories about your ghost. Has it ever opened the windows before?”
Jessica shook her head, and took a step closer to Isabel.
“It’s too bad we can’t get some ghost hunters out here with the storm and all.” Vi stroked her chin in an exaggerated gesture of thinking.
“I think it would be more useful to get the police out here,” I said.
“They won’t be any better at dealing with this than you and Phillip,” Lucille said.
Mac held up his hands and I saw his cheek muscles twitch.
“Look, Clyde and I will go downstairs and check out the whole ground floor,” he said. “Jessica and Isabel, maybe you can calm Mavis and Selma and get them back to their room.” Mac turned to Tina, Heather, and Amy. “If you wouldn’t mind returning to your rooms, we’ll take care of it from here.”
Heather and Amy nodded. Tina narrowed her eyes at Mac and opened her mouth to speak, but Heather jabbed her in the ribs and pulled her down the hall. I watched them go, wondering why Tina had an issue with Mac. She bristled every time he tried to take control of the crowd.
Isabel and Jessica nodded and ducked into Isabel’s room. Mac and I walked toward the stairs. I heard shuffling behind us. I stopped and Vi bumped into me.
“What?” she said. “Neither of you have any experience with ghosts. You’ll need me along to help deal with it.”
“What experience do you have?” I crossed my arms.
“I’ve done a lot of reading on the subject,” Vi said. “And I’ve talked to lots of ghost hunters.”
“Fine, Ms. Greer, you can come with us,” Mac said.
I twisted around to look at Mac and probably looked just as mutinous as Tina had. Vi grinned and we set off again for the stairway.
Even with the electricity back on, the sconces in the hallway had been dimmed for the evening and the three of us cast hazy shadows on the stairs as we descended. It was definitely spookier than during the daytime and I was glad I wasn’t alone. I took Mac’s hand and Vi slipped her arm through mine on the other side.
A thorough search of all the main-floor rooms yielded no ghosts. Everything was as it should be. The library was ready for the next day’s workshop, with yarn and needles laid out on the tables. I noticed striped scarves on all the statues in the reception area. That was new. Maybe the ghost had been doing some yarn bombing.
In the lounge, several of the decorative vases had been covered with neon jackets and knitted flowers nestled among the real ones.
“Maybe Mavis saw a yarn bomber,” I said. “That would explain why the person didn’t respond and then ran away.” I turned to Vi. “The whole point is to not get caught, right?”
Vi examined the knitted flower. “I think I know who did this one.”
She turned to us. “Linda must be feeling better.”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“She makes these flowers,” Vi said.
“I didn’t know she was part of the conference,” I said.
Vi wandered the lounge inspecting the new yarn installations. “She comes when she can, in between whatever she has to do with the hotel. But she’s the one who started the workshops ten or so years ago. She’s a big knitter.”
Mac and I managed to drag Vi away from the knitting and back out into the hall.
The only place we hadn’t checked was the kitchen. We turned down the darkened hall that led to the staff entrance to the kitchen. There was a line of light under the door.
I pushed it open and we were all surprised to see Linda there at the stove stirring a small pan. A thin cord ran from her pale gray robe pocket to her ears and she seemed oblivious to our entrance.
She whirled around when we moved toward her and then quickly relaxed.
“Oh, you startled me!” she said and tugged the earbuds out of her ears.
“Sorry Mrs. Garrett,” Mac said. “We’re searching the area because Mavis Poulson thinks she saw a ghost.
Linda chuckled. “Mavis always did have a wild imagination. Where did she see the ghost, exactly?”
“She thought it came down the stairs about twenty minutes ago,” Vi said.
Linda shrugged. “She probably saw me.”
“It’s possible,” I said. “Did you come down the main stairs?”
She nodded. “I couldn’t sleep.” She stopped and blinked back tears. “I haven’t slept much since Clarissa died. I just can’t get the picture of her lying there, dead, out of my mind.” She gestured at the pot. “I thought some warm milk might help.”
“She says she called out to the ghost and it didn’t stop,” Mac said.
Linda pulled her iPod out and showed it to us. “I like to listen to Mozart when I can’t sleep.” She dropped it back in the pocket. “I wouldn’t have heard her with my earphones in. Plus, at three in the morning, I wouldn’t have been expecting to meet anyone in the hall.”
Mac and I exchanged a tired look.
“That’s probably exactly what happened,” Mac said.
We turned to go. As we reached the door, I stopped. “You weren’t in Clarissa’s room tonight, were you?”
“No. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go in there again,” Linda said. “Why?”
“Someone was there and they left both windows open.”
“That’s strange,” she said. “Why would anyone do that?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out,” Vi said. She flapped her hand as if it was already handled.
Mac sighed and held the door open for us.
He walked us back to our room in silence. We all seemed to be mulling over what we had discovered, which wasn’t much.
He gave me a quick kiss and said he’d see me for breakfast. It didn’t take long to fall asleep again and this time I didn’t dream at all.
22
After the ghost sighting, Saturday morning came too early. I rolled out of bed, and quietly opened the door. Mac and I had agreed to meet early again, before the knitters descended on the lounge. Wally approached Mac and me out of breath, but with a huge smile, as we walked downstairs.
“The phone lines are working!” he said.
“Fantastic,” Mac said. “Let’s call the police.”
We followed Wally out to the front desk. “I was going to call myself, but I thought you might want to talk to them.”
The old phone was ringing when we got to the counter. Wally pressed his lips together. “I plugged this old one in when the power went out. It’s been ringing off the hook—that’s how I knew it was working. Several of the guests received phone calls from family who were worried about them when the cell towers went down.”
Wally answered the phone, took a message, and hung up. He then took the phone off the hook and handed the receiver to Mac.
“Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll dial—we have to be quick before another call comes through.”
Mac nodded at him and Wally dialed.
From what I could glean by listening to his side of the conversation, it sounded like Mac was being put straight through to homicide. I began plotting how long we would likely have to stay after the police arrived.