A wave of icy panic coursed beneath Felipe’s heart, but when helooked over the mayor’s shoulder, he found Oliver shutting the church doors. His features were tense and his skin was even whiter than usual, but the remaining fear rapidly galvanized into anger as he realized what was going on. Oliver’s mouth opened in silent outrage as he stepped from the shadows of the church and loomed over Mayor Stills’ shoulder.
“Sir, I insist you lower your voice and speak calmly. There is no need to take that tone with Inspector Galvan or Miss Jones,” Oliver said, his voice the sternest and loudest Felipe had ever heard it. “They are merely doing their jobs, and I suggest you do yours.”
Luther Stills turned, ready to fight with Oliver too, when he jerked back as if he had seen a ghost. “And who the hell are you?”
“The medical examiner,” Oliver replied indignantly at the mayor’s sharp tone. “I assume you don’t have one of those in your town. Why did no one send for the county coroner to autopsy your dead?”
“There was no need. None of them were murdered. Dr. Miller confirmed that.”
Oliver made a face and a half-hummed noise that suggested otherwise, eliciting a snicker from Gwen and a half-hidden smile from Felipe. It wasn’t often that Oliver became waspish with others, but when he did, Oliver gave no quarter. There was something about watching his sweet, quiet partner take someone to task who fully deserved it that warmed Felipe’s heart.
“Your dead are in abysmal condition. Were you the one who bashed in Mr. Ridder’s skull?”
“No, that was me!” a voice called breathlessly behind them.
The man jogging toward them was half a head taller than Luther Stills and only had a mustache, but the echoes of the other man’s features in his own were obvious, even if their demeanors were night and day. The mayor crossed his arms impatiently and murmured something about him being unfit for company. Felipe assumed that had to do with the younger man’s lack of a hat and overcoat. His wavy, auburn hair blew into his eyes as the wind whipped anew, and he rubbed his arms with a shiver as he ran. Despite the chill and gathering clouds, he wore no coat over his brown and cream striped three piece suit as if he had run out of wherever he came from in a hurry. By the time he reached them, his pale cheeks were pink from exertion, but his green eyes and open features were bright. Up close, the man appeared to be in his late thirties, though his exasperated, apologetic expression as he met Gwen and Felipe’s gazes made him appear younger.
“I hit him with a golf club. Repeatedly. I still have it at home if you need to see it, ichor and all. I assume you’re police of some kind,” he answered, in an airy, fast voice that felt at odds with his father’sdemanding baritone.
“They’re from the Paranormal Society,” Mr. Allen said flatly.
“And they’re leaving, and so are you! Lucien, go back to the office.”
“I will not,” Lucien replied, sidestepping his father as he tried to shoo him away. “That man tried to kill Mother! We need to do something before it happens again.”
“There is nothing to do! This is simply how it is. End of discussion.” Sticking his finger in Felipe’s face, Mayor Stills added, “The three of you had better leave town before I send the sheriff to remove you.”
Mr. Allen and Lucien exchanged a look as the mayor stormed back toward town. With a sigh, Lucien turned to them. “I must apologize for my father’s behavior. He has been under a lot of pressure lately. Losing Sheriff Ridder and having him attack my mother on the same day hasn’t been easy for him to come to terms with. I’m Lucien Stills, by the way,” he said, reaching out to shake Felipe’s hand. He nodded along as Felipe introduced himself and then Gwen and Oliver. “If you folks need anything, I would be happy to help and smooth things over the best I can. I know we weren’t very forthcoming with the last two sets of investigators, but after what happened… We can’t go on like this.”
Felipe hoped the incredulity didn’t show on his face.Nothing’s ever a problem until the monsters are eatingyourfaces, he thought bitterly. If he never set foot in a murder town again, it would be too soon. Beside him, Oliver’s features twisted with confusion.
Before he could speak, Gwen grabbed Felipe’s fallen notebook and pencil from behind the tombstone and asked, “If you’re willing, could you tell us what happened the night Sheriff Ridder attacked your mother?”
“Finally, someone who wants to hear what happened,” he said, glaring at his father’s retreating form over his shoulder. Turning back to Gwen, Lucien sighed. “It was horrible. It was late at night, probably close to two or three when I awoke because I heard something, like adoor opening. At first, I thought it was my cousin sneaking out, but when I went down to check, I found the back door wide open, which Willard would never do. He’s too careful for that. Well, Will must have heardmebanging around because he came down to see what was going on. As we were trying to figure out how the door was left open, there was a crash and yelling upstairs. I grabbed one of my golf clubs from by the back door in case it was a burglar, and Will and I charged up the servants’ steps to see what was going on. When we got there, my parents’ bedroom door was open, and my mother was screaming while my father was face down on the floor. I thought he was dead at first, but luckily, he was merely unconscious. But someone was standing over my mother. I didn’t know who it was at first. I assumed it was a burglar or something, so I just started whaling on him with the club until he went down. It wasn’t until we turned the lights on that we realized the intruder was already dead, and that it was Sheriff Ridder of all people.”
“How decomposed did he look when you first saw him?” Oliver asked.
Lucien let out a high laugh and looked at Oliver like he had five heads. “I wouldn’t know how decomposed anything is. I have very little experience with the dead. I had never even seen a dead person, at least not one I can remember. You’ll have to ask Will if he’s willing and able to talk. He was the one who confirmed Ridder was very dead before I whacked him. See, I feared I had murdered him and was feeling very guilty about it, even if it was for a good cause.”
Oliver and Felipe exchanged a glance. They would have to speak to the cousin later. “Do you remember if Sheriff Ridder looked bloated? Was his skin greenish or red?”
“He was very wet and smelly, like he came straight out of a pond or something, and he was bloated. It was dark. I don’t remember what color his skin was. I mean, I hardly recognized him, but I was already in a tizzy. Mother was the first to say it was Ridder, and Will confirmed it when he found his hunting knife in his pocket. He never went anywhere without it. It was a shame, really. He was a good sheriff, anda dear friend to Father. And his death has left us in the lurch. No one wants to be sheriff after the last one died and came back like that.”
“And your father? How did he end up on the floor?” Felipe asked, trying to pull the conversation back on track.
“He was knocked out, somehow. We still don’t know if Ridder hit him or if it was the shock of seeing him or if he merely ran headfirst into the bedpost and knocked himself out. Father says he doesn’t remember any of that night. It took me days to convince him Ridder was actually dead and that he tried to kill Motherafterhe died. He kept telling meIwas being silly for being upset and that Horace would come back eventually. Thank god I saw the whole thing with my own eyes. If it had just been Will, Father would certainly have thought he was making it up and would have convinced us of the same.”
“And how did Mrs. Stills take all of this?”
Lucien shook his head. “She was very shaken when it happened, as we all were, but she’s barely said a word about it since. When I try to talk to her about it, she changes the subject or looks at me like I’ve brought up something distasteful. I don’t know whether she’s trying to avoid upsetting Father or if she is truly in as deep denial as he is. I mean, we were all there; we all saw the body. We had to throw out the rug in their bedroom because of the smell and mess, yet they’re going on as if the rug has always been gone. At the least, I thought Father would want someone to investigate Ridder’s death, but—” Lucien threw his hands up in exasperation. “I can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do.”
“Which is even more suspicious,” Mr. Allen said under his breath as he leaned hard on his cane.
Lucien gave him a helpless look.
“Did anyone determine a cause of death?” Oliver asked.
“I don’t know. Father didn’t discuss it with me, though Dr. Miller came to deal with the body.” Checking his pocket watch, Lucien grimaced. “My apologies, I need to get back to townhall before Father comes back for round two. I will do my best to bring my parents around and smooth things over for you. Perhaps, I can even convincethem to invite you all over for dinner. It is the mayor’s duty to host guests after all.”
