The question was, how could I sneak away unnoticed? Then I had it. “Luis, is there more furniture—couches or love seats that we can bring in to keep everyone comfortable?”
“I can sit on the floor,” Alice countered.
Ruth elbowed her. “Not with your bursitis, you can’t.”
“Oh yes, I forgot about my bursitis.”
Luis answered. “Yes, this house is full of furniture.”
Roan moved past me. “I’ll help.”
As everyone started moving pieces here and there, I discreetly sneaked from the room. There wouldn’t be a lot of time for me to investigate, so I had to plan accordingly. I could either stay downstairs or head upstairs and search out Zelda’s bedroom. If her spirit thought she was still living, that might be where she was—tucking herself into bed the day before Christmas Eve.
Wow, time had really gotten away from me. It was Christmas Eve today, and here I was, stuck in Zelda’s house of craziness.
Decision made, I quietly padded to the stairs and made my way to the second floor.
Now, a lot of folks save the Christmas decorations for the downstairs of the house, not bothering to do much with the upstairs, but that’s not what had happened here. Zelda spared no space when it came to covering the floor with either tinsel, greenery or, you guessed it, an elf.
Sconces threw ambient light on the walls and gleaming wooden floor that peeked out the sides of an ornate rug. As quietly as possible, I made my way to the first door and slowly turned the knob.
It opened to a room that was clean but void of any personality. Zelda had not lived in this room. I tried the next door and got the same result, and the next one.
When I reached the last door on the second floor, I could smell Zelda’s perfume before I even turned the handle.
Bingo!
When I opened the door, the smell assaulted me, engulfing me in a cloud of a light, flowery scent.
I flicked on a lamp that sat just inside the doorway and gently closed the door.
“Zelda,” I whispered. “I know you’re still in this house. I want to help you. I want you to cross to the other side, but I also want to know who killed you. They have to be brought to justice.”
The lamp hummed, the only sound in the room. The decorations didn’t have one touch of Christmas in them, but still the holiday couldn’t be escaped. Bing’s velvety smooth voice drifted up from downstairs, even with the door closed.
If I didn’t find anything up here, should I go back to Roan and suggest we return to our ridiculous plan of pretending something existed in the will that wasn’t there?
No. It was stupid. Lemon and Luis would see right through that. Besides, Luis probably knew the will backward and forward, as Traylor would have since he had been Zelda’s attorney.
I sat on Zelda’s bed, glancing around at the roomful of knickknacks you would expect a medium to have—crystal ball paperweights, a satin turban the color of an amethyst, blonde wigs of various lengths. Zelda had certainly played her role to the hilt.
Exhaling, I laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.Who killed you, Zelda? And where are you?
This house was full of spirits, I could feel them, but they all were still out of reach, not wanting to be seen.
I had to find out why my father needed Lucky’s soul. Why would he have stolen it? And I had to return it to Lucky because it was simply the right thing to do.
As I laid there, a tingle worked its way up the back of my head—a spirit.
Sitting up, I felt the energy become stronger. The tingle became a jolt that wound its way down to my toes.
“Zelda?”
She appeared in a flash of white before me. She blinked and looked around. “I really should have done different drapes. I regret those, but you know, when you’re a medium, you have a certain reputation to live up to.”
There was no time for niceties. “Who killed you?”
Zelda placed a heavily jeweled hand to her chest. “My dear, I’m not here to talk about me. I’m here to talk about you.”
