That would be one way to mourn the loss of her true-life blacksmithtonight.
Then, finally, she went to the newspaper archives to do some realwork.
Everything was on microfilm, so it was easy to ask for May through June of 1985—the year Kristen van Gerste had been killed. Then it just took a little time skimming through the daily papers until she found the right one. Prom would have been on a Friday or Saturday, she reasoned, so the photos would have been on Saturday orSunday.
She was just getting into the hang of loading the microfilm into the viewing machine and skimming through it with a smooth, satisfactory whir when she foundit.
The headline leaped out at her:Prom Queen Found Dead.She shuddered; that sounded like something out of a Stephen Kingnovel.
A large photo of Kristen van Gerste was there on the front page, and the moment she saw it, Leslie gasped audibly. There was no doubt. It had to be Kristen who was haunting Shenstone House—for in the photo, which was in color, the lovely young woman was wearing the legendary topazes, long white gloves…and a thick pink wrap that looked likevelvet.
She’d found herghost.
And, quite possibly, had uncovered a lot more questions about the murder from thirty yearsago.
Andnow—
“Well, hello,Leslie.”
She jolted, looking up to find John Fischer standing there. He was holding a box of microfilm rolls aswell.
“Doing some research?” he asked, glancing toward thescreen.
“Yes. Youtoo?”
“As a matter of fact I am.” He smiled and gestured with the small cardboard box. The rolls shuffled inside. “Just finishing up, actually. And I’m so happy to have run into you. Because I happened to be doing some research about old houses—for my project, you know—and I came across some interesting information about houses built in the same era as Shenstone. They built expertly hidden cabinets to hide liquor from the fuzz—as they called them,” he added with a grin, “and this article had some mention of the ways they’d mask them from the authorities, who were pretty good about finding hidden caches. I noticed something at Shenstone when you were showing me and Mrs. Bergstrom around the other day that could possibly be one of those well-hidden cabinets…I was wondering if you’d let me come by and show yousometime.”
Leslie had turned off the microfilm reader and removed the roll. She’d found what she needed; now she just had to figure out what to do next to put Kristen’s ghost to rest—a necessity before the inn could be opened forbusiness.
But John’s idea sounded just as intriguing. She’d pretty much exhausted all of her own ideas for where the gems might be hidden; she was open to hearing others. “Sure. I was just getting ready to head back home now, and I don’t have any other planstonight.”
Unfortunately.
“As a matter of fact, neither do I—other than taking all my research back to the inn and typing it up. Which is just as boring as it sounds.” He smiled behind hisbeard.
Just then, a well-modulated female voice came over the loudspeaker. “Attention, library patrons: the library will be closing in fifteen minutes. Please bring your selections to the circulation desk as soon as possible. Please return any checked-out reference materials to the appropriatedesk.”
“Oh, wow,” Leslie said, shoving the roll of microfilm into its box. “I had no idea it was almost six o’clock.” She stood. “I guess I’d better return these to the desk… So, anyway, John—I should be home and have all my stuff put away by seven-thirty or so. I was in Grand Rapids most of the day while they were sanding my floors, and the workers should be gone by now. Is sometime around eight tonight a good time for you to comeby?”
John smiled with delight. “Absolutely. I’ll be there at eight. How about I bring a bottle ofwine?”
* * *
“Thanks for coming over, Dec,”Baxter said as he opened the door to what he called his “tasting room.” Really, it was just an excuse for a tricked-out man cave that he could write off as a business expense, for the walkout basement part of his house was licensed as a commercial kitchen. This brewing and bottling area was set off from the “tasting area” by a half-wall and chromecounter.
“No problem, bud. You sounded prettyupset.”
And besides, what else would Declan be doing on a Friday night? Stephanie was at an away football game and was spending the night at a friend’s house after. Which should have been a boon for Declan—except that things had gone to shit last night at Leslie’s house, and now he didn’t have anything else to do but sit around and brood. Hanging out with Bax was far better than that, and marginally better than working at his forge on a project for the woman with whom heshouldhave been hangingout.
Somehow he’d lost his mojo when it came to wanting to work on those sexy spiral iron bars. The thought of making them just right, of coaxing those babies into the perfect curve, wasn’t as much of a pleasureanymore.
Yet another reason not to get involved with a client: it put a damper on finishing theproject.
However, Declanwasglad Steph’s game was away, for otherwise he might have found himself face to face with—or, even more awkward, sitting next to—EmilyDelton.
He sank down in one of the dark brown club chairs in front of the biggest wall-sized TV he’d ever seen. Weighed at least two hundred pounds. He knew this for a fact because he and Ethan Murphy had helped to move the mother down the hill and into the walkout basement a few months ago. He told Baxter the only way the damned thing was going back out was inpieces.
Strangely enough, Baxter looked about as tense and unhappy as Declan himself felt. He handed him a dark brown bottle. “You got here in good time. I just got home from the policestation.”
