I could hear the three guys and the old lady squabbling on the other side of the door. I waved my right hand slightly in an attempt to shush them, but they simply raised their voices and spoke louder. Eager to make the stranger on the doorstep go away, I smiled at him and nodded encouragingly, hoping he’d hurry with whatever the heck it was he wanted. The last thing I needed was for someone else to witness the disaster going on inside. Or worse still, have someone confirm my biggest fear that all this was just a figment of my imagination and I was indeed going crazy.
“Well, Miss Jones,” the man said. He fumbled in his jacket pocket and pulled out a crisp cotton handkerchief which he twisted nervously as he spoke. “Price, I mean. Price. I work at a small law firm just down the road. I was the one who managed Mrs. Bentley’s affairs and she was... well, she was kind to me. And she was very happy when she called me and asked me to come help put her affairs in order a few weeks ago. She was excited to work with you, and she told me that you didn’t know anything about the estate being in your name. That she wasn’t going to tell you anything. That it was what she wanted; she was a very strong-minded woman, you know, very capable.”
“I see,” I said slowly, uncertain where on earth the conversation was going.
The man swallowed hard. “Well, I just wanted to let you know before you heard from another source; some new evidence came to light following the pathology report and Mrs. Bentley’s death is being investigated as suspicious. And, well, with you arriving so suddenly and inheriting everything so unexpectedly…” My mouth fell open a little as the cogs in my brain began to turn. The man gave me a tight smile. “I’m very sorry, Miss Jones. I just wanted to warn you before anything happens, and to let you know I’m here if you need any legal support. I owe it to Mrs. Bentley.”
Before he could add anything else, I offered a forced handshake, thanked him, and hurried back inside. The entryway was deserted, the cats and their owner, their real owner, had obviously decided the old man wasn’t worth eavesdropping on. I peered through the peephole and watched the small, balding man as he stood on the doorstep for a moment before plodding away. I had never even asked his name. As soon as he was gone, I turned on my heels and ran back up the stairs, yelling for Agatha.
I stormed into the bedroom and the ghost appeared beside the window. “I told you I was murdered.” Agatha’s face was alive with smug triumph. “Now do you believe me?”
I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands and sank down onto the edge of the bed. “You did tell me.” I glanced up at her and chewed on my bottom lip for a moment. “I’m sorry, Agatha. That I didn’t believe you, and that, well, you know.”
“That I was murdered in cold blood?” The ghost asked. “That I was savagely ripped to shreds in the prime of my life?” I drew my brows low and pressed my lips together. She was pushing it a bit with the ‘prime of her life’ nonsense. She was no spring chicken.
A shadow fell on the wooden floorboards as three figures crowded into the room. The blond guy cocked his head and made a face. “Come on, Aggy, the murder weapon was a grape and you’re at least a hundred. It’s uncool, but it’s hardly Jack the Ripper standard.”
The red-haired man knocked his friend halfway across the room with a nudge of his broad shoulders. “She was murdered, Pussy. It’s not a joke.” He turned gentle green eyes on the elderly ghost. “Are you okay, Ag? I mean, I know you thought somebody had… Jeez. This sucks.”
The dark-haired man leaned his weight against the door frame and crossed his arms over his still bare chest. I eyed the towel slung distractingly low on his hips and wondered were there any clothes in the store that would fit the three men. I had enough on my plate without the added complication of damp, ludicrously enticing bodies lounging on all sides. The man inclined his head in my direction. “And hipster here is in prime position to take the fall for a crime she didn’t commit. It’s bullcrap.”
The other men nodded, even Pussy looked somber as he pushed a lock of blond hair out of his hazel eyes. Agatha tipped her head in agreement. “It is. Total poppycock.” Her lips twisted into a grin as she turned in my direction. “It does have one upside, though.”
I raised my eyebrows and stared at the ghost, waiting for her to reveal the silver lining to the poop sandwich I’d been handed. She schooled her mouth into what I gathered was her best attempt at a winning smile. “Now, you’ve got no choice but to help find my murderer, and quick-smart, before—”
“Before I get blamed for your murder,” I muttered.
She was right, damn it. Things just got personal.
Chapter Ten
An overwhelming exhaustion flooded through my bones as I sank into an armchair in the living room. I folded my hands in my lap and stared straight ahead, seeing nothing.
“She’s doing that thing again where she doesn’t speak and makes a face like a robot,” a voice I recognized as belonging to the red-haired man whispered.
I glanced up in time to catch the man with dark hair and tattooed skin nudging his friend. “Not helping, man.”
The blond guy, Pussy, leaned casually against the doorframe, striking his trademark pose as if he were pulled straight from Calvin Klein magazine. “Is she even still alive? Someone should poke her. I volunteer—”
“Touch me and you lose a hand,” I snapped. “Or a paw, whatever.” I pushed myself up off the chair and began pacing the room. “I’m trying to think, and I can’t do that with you guys distracting me.”
“Well that’s just something you have to get used to,” the blond man drawled. “We’re very distracting.”
I eyed his slow grin and my lips twisted upward of their own accord, but they quickly thinned as thoughts of my current predicament crowded my mind again. I turned toward the three men, wondering where the ghost had disappeared to; she certainly knew how to pick her moments. “What am I going to do? A murder suspect? It’s ridiculous. Yesterday I was in Portland clearing my stuff out of the pool house…” I let my words trail off, aware of the way the men were avoiding my eye. Clearly, they hadn’t missed Agatha’s jibes about my sad, pathetic life back home. Things were really bad when men who’d been furry house pets an hour ago were shooting you pitying glances. I lifted my jaw and channeled my inner Dr. Lee. “What I mean is, I only just arrived in Salem, so how could anybody think I had something to do with Agatha’s death?”
The room fell silent for a long moment before the gravelly voice of the dark-haired man filled the room. “Agatha changed her will, with no warning or explanation, and died under suspicious circumstances only days later. And now, here you are; inheriting everything she owns, living in her home when you had nowhere else to go. It wouldn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure you’re worth investigating.”
“Are you suggesting I had something to do with Agatha’s death?” I shot him a murderous glare. “You know that’s nonsense, I didn’t even recognize her ghost.”
The slightest hint of pink colored the tattooed man’s cheeks and his scowl intensified. “I’m just telling you what the cops are probably thinking. Nobody can help you if you’re going to act like a delusional idiot.”
“He’s right.” The blond guy nodded. “Fluffy might be a bad-tempered jerk with no sense of fun or adventure.” The dark-haired man glared at him. “But he’s not stupid. The cops are going to be all over your cute butt.”
I pursed my lips. “Thanks for that, Pussy.”
The blond smiled like I’d paid him a compliment. “You’re welcome, doll. Anytime.”
I released a loud groan in his direction. “I was being sarcastic, you idiot.”
“I know.” His grin widened, white teeth gleaming.