Murderous Matrimony(28)

“I don’t know.” His eyes narrowed in the dim light. “Let’s go take a look.”





Chapter Nine



We went quietly up the stairs to the museum. I could smell coffee brewing at Sir Latte’s Beanery on the other side of the Village, along with bagels cooking at Bawdy Betty’s. There was laughter floating out on the night air, and the sound of someone playing a guitar.

It was what I expected for a Village evening, but whoever had killed Dave—and now sneaked into the museum—had taken away my peace of mind.

The front door was closed and locked, but I saw the small light go by the window again.

“Stay here,” Chase whispered close to my ear.

“No way,” I whispered back. “There’s no one else here to help you.”

He sighed. “At least stay behind me. This could be Dave’s killer, for all we know.”

“Okay. You go first.”

We crept to the back door that was on the ground level. It was slightly open. Chase pushed it open a little further and glanced inside before he walked in. I followed right behind him, wishing I had a taser.

The area downstairs was used for storage. There wasn’t much here yet since the museum hadn’t opened. I planned to eventually have various exhibits kept here that we could pull out in case one of our crafters cancelled.

It was dark and quiet. I saw the flashlight beam again, and pointed it out to Chase.

The intruder tried to brush by us in the dark. Chase moved quickly after him, as he got close to the basement door. I heard a scuffle, and someone cried out. I flipped on the overhead light to see what was going on.

Chase had tackled Pat Snyder, who played William Shakespeare in the Village each day. Pat was sitting on the floor with his head held down, slowly rocking back and forth as Chase held his arm in a taut grip.

Pat was a middle-aged man with a pointed gray beard and thick gray hair. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He was attractive—especially when he was in his Elizabethan garb. Even the young girls giggled when he spouted a fresh sonnet for them. He struck his thinking pose at his podium, feather quill pen in hand, and women listened.

“What are you doing in here?” I asked him.

“This is the only place I get any peace from Wanda.” He wiped tears from his face. “I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t work. She won’t leave me alone. I don’t know why, but the few hours I can hide in here are different. Maybe there’s some kind of protection spell on the museum that keeps her out.”

“Protection spell?” My doubt carried into my voice. “Where would that come from?”

“I’m desperate, Jessie. I don’t know what to do.”

“Have you tried leaving the Village?” Chase asked. “I’ve read that some spirits are tied to certain places.”

“You’ve been looking up ghost facts?” I couldn’t believe it. I was glad that he was finally interested, but I was surprised.

“We’ve got a ghost.” He shrugged. “I need to know all I can about them.”

“I tried spending the night at a hotel,” Pat said. “It didn’t matter. She followed me. Any other suggestions?”

“That’s about the extent of my ghost knowledge right now,” Chase admitted. “Sorry.”

“We should talk to Madame Lucinda about it,” I suggested. “Maybe she knows why Wanda can’t get into the museum. I noticed that Wanda can’t enter her tent either.”

“We should go see her right now then.” Pat struggled to get off the floor.

Chase helped him up. “None of us expected to have this problem. We’re going to have to figure it out as we go along. I think Madame Lucinda is a good place to start. But breaking and entering isn’t necessary.”

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

“How did you get in?” I asked.

“The back door there was left open. I started hiding in here each night. She’s worse at night, you know.”

“I don’t see any reason why you can’t stay here downstairs, until we can control Wanda a little, or get rid of her. I’m waiting right now for someone who’s supposed to be able to do that.” I smiled at him, knowing how hard it was being around our resident ghost.

She was hardest on her ex-husband.

“Thank you.” Pat threw his arms around me and sobbed into my T-shirt. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

“I’ll have a key made for you so you can lock the door when you’re not here. We don’t have many thefts, but there are a few.” I was thinking of the crossbow that had disappeared from next door. Some of our first exhibit about tapestry weaving was old and worth a fortune. I didn’t want to go through what Phil was going through.