Phantoms Can Be Murder: Charlie Parker Mystery #13 by Connie Shelton Page A

skirted the lumps in the ground
that felt like they undoubtedly contained bones and we made our way back to the
paved path. A lone young woman was walking toward us in the shade of the huge
trees. Surrounded by the church, the abbey and high walls, with the path that
disappeared around a curve in the distance, I could easily imagine making that
same journey on a dark, foggy night. A scatter of goose-bumps rose along my
arms.

 
     
    Chapter
6
     
    The sunshine had dimmed behind
thick clouds and I pulled my blazer a little tighter around me as Louisa led
the way back toward the street. Cars zipped by on the narrow street and the
shouts of school children came from somewhere nearby. The moody feel of the
graveyard dissipated in a flash.
    Louisa glanced up at the sky.
“Got your brolly?”
    I patted my oversized purse. The
umbrella never got any use in New Mexico but I had a feeling it would come in
handy here.
    However, by the time we reached
The Knit and Purl’s front door the wind had shifted and the clouds were
thinning again. Warm light glowed from the shop windows and I could see
Gabrielle inside, flicking at the rows of candles on the shelves with a feather
duster. She smiled at us when we walked in.
    “Dolly’s up in the apartment,”
she said. “Go on up if you’d like.”
    Louisa knew the way and I
followed along, through a good-sized stockroom lined with shelves and up a
flight of uneven stairs, a reminder of the age of even the most simple
buildings in this town. Ahead of me, she’d come to a landing and before she
could knock at the door a shriek pierced the silence.
    Louisa gazed around with
momentary confusion. With no qualms, I barreled ahead of her, grabbed the
doorknob and shoved my way into the apartment. I found myself alone in a parlor
similar in size to the one at Louisa’s house.
    “Dolly!” I shouted. “Where are
you?”
    She bustled in from a doorway to
my right, her hands fluttering, confusion on her face.
    “It’s another one!” she cried.
    I stared around the room and
through the open door to the kitchen. “Another what?”
    Louisa had followed me inside and
she rushed to her friend. “What is it, pet?”
    Dolly’s voice didn’t want to
work.
    “Take a deep breath,” I said.
    Archie, the husband I’d briefly
met yesterday, appeared from a hallway on the left. His hair was mussed, as if
he’d just woken from a nap. “Dolly, what is it, love?”
    Dolly’s eyes scanned our faces,
her mouth working without saying anything.
    “Breathe,” I reminded.
    She finally focused on me and I
breathed deeply, hoping she would imitate me. She did and finally calmed down
enough to speak.
    “The tea. Again. Just like
yesterday.”
    I automatically glanced down at
her hands but didn’t see a new injury.
    “This time it went cold. My tea
went ice cold in less than two minutes.”
    We all stared at her.
    “It’s true. I’d just made a fresh
cup. I’ll show you!” She led the little procession into the kitchen. “See? The
kettle is still hot. I had poured a cup.” She pointed to a solid white mug on
the counter. “I felt the, well, the call of nature . . . went to the loo. I was
not gone two minutes. When I came back—well, just feel this.”
    Call me suspicious but I held my
hand above the cup for a second before actually touching it. When I did, I had
to agree with Dolly, the liquid was actually ice cold.
    I looked around the room, not
exactly sure what I was hoping to see. “And there was no one in the apartment
but you and Archie?”
    “He’d laid down for his nap after
lunch,” she said, glancing toward him for confirmation. He nodded.
    The electric kettle, indeed,
still emitted a tendril of steam when I poured some of the water into the sink.
The tea in the mug had not come from this source, not recently. Puzzling.
    “I felt a rush of cold air come
through the parlor as I left the toilet,” she was telling Louisa. “But this
place can be drafty. I didn’t think anything of