Inside, it was just as Mrs. Garrett had described. The claw-foot tub stood in the middle of a partly circular room that would have been lovely on a sunny day. The old-fashioned cabinet and pedestal sink lined up along the wall, and a toilet hid behind a half wall in the corner.
Clarissa lay on the floor between the tub and the sink. Her right leg was bent at an awkward angle and her eyes were closed. In the weak light from the flashlight and lamp, a dark glistening stain spread from underneath her head. She was completely still. I knelt down next to her and shone the flashlight on her face. Mrs. Garrett gasped and I heard her move into the other room. Jessica followed.
“Mac,” I said quietly, “look.” I pointed to Clarissa’s neck. The faint bruises barely showed in the flashlight’s glow, but they were there. I put a thumb on her eyelid and lifted. The whites of her eyes were pink.
“I don’t think this was an accident,” I said.
Mac let out a gust of air.
“Strangled,” he said. “Whoever hit her in the head made sure they finished the job.”
I cleared my mind, as Neila had instructed, reached out, and touched Clarissa’s shoulder. I hoped I would get a sense of who might have harmed her, but all I felt was a surge of rage and fear. A wave of nausea spread and I felt dizzy. I pulled my hand away and took a deep breath.
Mac knelt down next to me, his arm over my shoulders. “Are you okay?”
I didn’t want to tell him I was experimenting with psychic solutions. “I’m fine . . . it’s just . . . she looks like she’s sleeping.”
I put a finger under Clarissa’s jaw along her neck to check for a pulse, but we both knew I wouldn’t find one.
8
We regrouped in the bedroom. Mac asked Jessica when she thought the power would be back on.
“It should have come on by now.” Jessica held her hands out and shrugged. “The generator works very well and can usually supply power for a couple of days. I don’t know why it hasn’t kicked in.” She put a shaky hand to her lips. “I had planned to go find our maintenance man after I dropped off the candles in the lounge.”
Mac paced in front of the bathroom door. “Okay, we’ll need to call the local police and see what they want us to do.”
“I thought you were a police officer,” Linda said.
Mac stopped moving.
“Yes, we both are,” he said, and gestured toward me. “But Clyde is on leave and I’m out of my jurisdiction. If the local police can get here, they’ll be in charge.”
“I doubt anyone can get through tonight,” Jessica said. “The snow is still coming down and when René arrived this afternoon just before dinner, he said he almost didn’t make it.”
“Surely we don’t need to call in more police,” Linda said. “We can make arrangements with a funeral home. . . .”
Mac held up his hand. “I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that.”
“Because it was an accidental death?” Jessica said.
Mac and I exchanged a glance and I could tell he thought it would be best not to upset Mrs. Garrett further.
“Police need to be notified whenever someone unexpectedly dies,” I said.
Mac pulled out his cell phone and dialed. He looked at it again, and sighed.
“I don’t have service. Clyde, is yours working?”
Mine was the same—no service.
“There’s only one cell tower near here and reception can be spotty,” Jessica said. “We have a landline tucked under the front desk.”
“Let’s go try the landline,” Mac said.
We trooped down the circular stairs. Mrs. Garrett had begun crying again, but it was more of a slow leak than a flood.
“Maybe you can take your mom to her room and get her some tea or . . . something?” I said to Jessica.
She nodded. “I’ll meet you downstairs.” She put an arm around Linda. “C’mon, Mom, let’s go.”
Jessica took the lamp and led her mother off a side hallway that I assumed led to the family’s living area. Mac and I went to the front desk and found the phone. Mac dialed 911 and listened. He clicked the button on the phone and tried again. He groaned.
“The landline is out as well?” I asked.
“I’m not sure what to do.” He shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of leaving her body up there.”
“We don’t want to disturb any potential evidence,” I said.
Mac nodded and rubbed the back of his neck.
He took a deep breath and blew it out. “Leave it to us to stumble onto a murder.”
“Murder?” said a voice from behind us. “I knew it!”
I turned, but it had to be Vi and her selectively tuned hearing.
She hurried over to us, her candle flickering wildly. “She’s been murdered? Poor Clarissa!” She paused and lowered her voice. “Of course, she didn’t have many fans around here.” She looked from me to Mac.
Neither of us spoke.
“Unless . . . it was the ghost seeking her revenge!” Vi announced.
“Ms. Greer, that’s ridiculous,” Mac said. “And dangerous. Don’t get everyone all worked up about a ghost story.”