what he expected. A medium of some renown and a self-proclaimed paranormal expert, Calendula Brite was a woman of modest height and build, who dressed with the bland conservatism of the Beacon Hill over-fifty set.
One would never guess by looking at her that this woman claimed to have catalogued no fewer than sixty "living" specters and was the current president of the Society for Fantastical Research.
A society that Tyber had always had severe doubts about.
What bothered him most about the group was that they constantly claimed to be doing "scientific" research, yet they did not adhere to any scientific method he could discern, and their results, as far as he could tell, were dubious at best. They never produced any actual data, even though they claimed they had it in their files. That annoyed Dr. Evans.
"What about you, Dr. Evans? Are you in the mood for savory buns?"
Calendula tilted her pale blond head in his direction, smiling slightly.
Tyber had to admit she was charming.
"I'm always up for savory buns." He looked at Zanita out of the corner of his eye and winked.
There was a wealth of suggestive meaning behind that wink. Zanita tried not to think of glass windows and heated kisses. She squirmed in her seat.
Tyber chuckled knowingly.
"Do you think the ghost will make an appearance tonight, Todd?" Mark changed the subject away from buns, savory or otherwise.
"Good Lord, I hope not." Todd sighed. "Last time I made a lobster bisque, he toppled a bottle of lemon juice into the mix—right after he ate almost half the pot. Curdled the whole thing."
" 'Tis a bloody crime!" Blooey jumped out of his seat, ready to do battle with the cuisine-wrecking ghost. Nothing upset the little pirate more than fine dining gone amuck.
Calm as always, Tyber took a slow sip of his drink. "How do you know someone didn't sneak into the kitchen and do it? Why do you think it was the, as you say, ghost?"
"Because I was out of fresh lemons and I would never use bottled juice." He grimaced in distaste.
Not understanding the vagaries of chefs, Tyber shrugged. "So whoever it was brought his own."
"Also, a strange, thick mist covered the kitchen floor."
Tyber raised an eyebrow.
"What was the mist like?" Zanita got excited. She leaned forward in her seat.
"Thick, wafting. That's when the pots and pans began to hum."
"Hum?"
"Yes. It was very eerie." Todd shivered at the memory.
As Tyber leaned back into his chair, mind ever working, Hambone's stomach growled, reminding everyone about dinner.
Zanita grinned. "Just in case—I hope you cooked something else besides the bisque tonight."
Everyone laughed.
Todd chuckled. "Once I found a stack of waffles right here in the parlor—stuck to the top of the chandelier." He pointed to the very spot.
Everyone gazed upward. The Florencia Inn was an old house and the ceilings were exceptionally high. Almost ten feet. Presumably, one would have to be an extremely tall person or have a ladder handy to do the deed.
"That's damn odd, Todd." Mark still stared at the light fixture as if he were looking for clues.
"Once, when I was doing an investigation of the Hollow House in
Louisiana
, we found a plate of beignets balanced on the limb of an old oak tree," said Calendula Brite. "It was the very limb that a cook was hanged from 144 years ago."
"Blimey!" Blooey's eyes bulged out. It was obvious to Tyber that his cook's rationality had already been shanghaied by the spooky tale.
"You see, the poor thing loved beignets. Unfortunately, she was a slave who also liked to snoop, and one day she inadvertently found a very incriminating letter that had been sent to her master. She had no idea what was on the paper—not being able to read." Calendula crossed her legs and waved her hand. "But they cut out her tongue, just in case."
Zanita shivered. "That's horrible."
"It gets worse. The master then sent her out into the fields. Well, naturally, she wanted to get back into the house, where conditions
One would never guess by looking at her that this woman claimed to have catalogued no fewer than sixty "living" specters and was the current president of the Society for Fantastical Research.
A society that Tyber had always had severe doubts about.
What bothered him most about the group was that they constantly claimed to be doing "scientific" research, yet they did not adhere to any scientific method he could discern, and their results, as far as he could tell, were dubious at best. They never produced any actual data, even though they claimed they had it in their files. That annoyed Dr. Evans.
"What about you, Dr. Evans? Are you in the mood for savory buns?"
Calendula tilted her pale blond head in his direction, smiling slightly.
Tyber had to admit she was charming.
"I'm always up for savory buns." He looked at Zanita out of the corner of his eye and winked.
There was a wealth of suggestive meaning behind that wink. Zanita tried not to think of glass windows and heated kisses. She squirmed in her seat.
Tyber chuckled knowingly.
"Do you think the ghost will make an appearance tonight, Todd?" Mark changed the subject away from buns, savory or otherwise.
"Good Lord, I hope not." Todd sighed. "Last time I made a lobster bisque, he toppled a bottle of lemon juice into the mix—right after he ate almost half the pot. Curdled the whole thing."
" 'Tis a bloody crime!" Blooey jumped out of his seat, ready to do battle with the cuisine-wrecking ghost. Nothing upset the little pirate more than fine dining gone amuck.
Calm as always, Tyber took a slow sip of his drink. "How do you know someone didn't sneak into the kitchen and do it? Why do you think it was the, as you say, ghost?"
"Because I was out of fresh lemons and I would never use bottled juice." He grimaced in distaste.
Not understanding the vagaries of chefs, Tyber shrugged. "So whoever it was brought his own."
"Also, a strange, thick mist covered the kitchen floor."
Tyber raised an eyebrow.
"What was the mist like?" Zanita got excited. She leaned forward in her seat.
"Thick, wafting. That's when the pots and pans began to hum."
"Hum?"
"Yes. It was very eerie." Todd shivered at the memory.
As Tyber leaned back into his chair, mind ever working, Hambone's stomach growled, reminding everyone about dinner.
Zanita grinned. "Just in case—I hope you cooked something else besides the bisque tonight."
Everyone laughed.
Todd chuckled. "Once I found a stack of waffles right here in the parlor—stuck to the top of the chandelier." He pointed to the very spot.
Everyone gazed upward. The Florencia Inn was an old house and the ceilings were exceptionally high. Almost ten feet. Presumably, one would have to be an extremely tall person or have a ladder handy to do the deed.
"That's damn odd, Todd." Mark still stared at the light fixture as if he were looking for clues.
"Once, when I was doing an investigation of the Hollow House in
Louisiana
, we found a plate of beignets balanced on the limb of an old oak tree," said Calendula Brite. "It was the very limb that a cook was hanged from 144 years ago."
"Blimey!" Blooey's eyes bulged out. It was obvious to Tyber that his cook's rationality had already been shanghaied by the spooky tale.
"You see, the poor thing loved beignets. Unfortunately, she was a slave who also liked to snoop, and one day she inadvertently found a very incriminating letter that had been sent to her master. She had no idea what was on the paper—not being able to read." Calendula crossed her legs and waved her hand. "But they cut out her tongue, just in case."
Zanita shivered. "That's horrible."
"It gets worse. The master then sent her out into the fields. Well, naturally, she wanted to get back into the house, where conditions
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