Page 6 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
Norah blanched at the wordautopsy. She noticed Sebastian had caught her expression. His eyes narrowed. She looked away.
“Unfortunately,” the detective went on, “Mrs. Miller insists there was a woman in the bedroom right before her husband’s heart attack.” He gave Norah a meaningful grimace. “We know what that means.”
“A woman?” Sebastian took a loud slurp of his coffee.
Dover turned to Sebastian. “You’ve heard the stories...” His words trailed off.
Sebastian nodded, ignoring Norah’s shifting of her feet. “The ghost of Isabelle Addington? Aye. That’s why I’m here. Investigatin’ the historical cold case for my podcastCold,Dead,But Never Buried.”
“Oh, that’syou!” Dover broke into a grin, and the two men exchanged handshakes. “I’ve heard your podcast. You do a thorough and unbiased investigation. I appreciate that you don’t cater to conspiracy theories and the like.”
Norah wondered if she slipped away whether she would go unnoticed.
“Conspiracy theories can sometimes contain elements of truth,” Sebastian was claiming. “You need to know how to tell the difference between fact and fiction.”
“No kidding.” Dover hefted a deep breath. “Even with eyewitness testimony! Mrs. MillerinsistsIsabelle Addington’s apparition was what instigated her husband’s heart attack. I’ve no evidence of that—there’s certainly no way to prove death by paranormal.”
“She’s not claimin’ the spiritkilledhim, is she?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow, slurping his coffee again.
“No. Just that the appearance of theghostmade him go into cardiac arrest. Actually frightened him to death.”
“I’ve heard worse.” Sebastian’s words and Dover’s nod of agreement did nothing to make Norah feel better. “I interviewed a man once who said he would wake up in bed to find razor blades in the sheets and cuts on his flesh.”
“How is that worse than cardiac arrest?” Norah inserted out of curiosity and then bit her tongue as her voice drew the attention of both men. She hugged herself tighter, regretting her question.
“Maybe it isn’t,” Sebastian acquiesced. “I believe the idea of razors an’ blood simply sounds more violent.”
“Yeah,” Dover agreed. “So, Norah?” He studied her for a second and then continued, “You don’t have to worry about our investigating Mr. Miller’s death any further. I’m not concerned about chasing a ghost—literally. Mr. Nielson said that all signs support there was no foul play, paranormal or otherwise. But...”
Norah didn’t like the way Dover dragged out his words.
“...I would advise you to seek counsel,” he concluded.
“Counsel?” Norah’s voice squeaked. Her mouth was dry. She needed a drink of water.
Detective Dover gave a cynical roll of his eyes toward the upstairs. “Mrs. Miller doesn’t impress me as the kind to let something go. She is adamant her husband was murdered by a ghost.”
“That’s ... no.” Norah shook her head. “Why would I need counsel for that?Legalcounsel?”
Detective Dover shrugged. “These days you can be sued for just about anything. And you own this place, which means that technically, you’re responsible for the actions of its permanent residents.”
“A ghost is hardly a permanent resident.” Sebastian stated what Norah was thinking.
Dover laughed. “It probably won’t go anywhere, and I might be exaggerating my concern. But remember several years ago,that kid and his family sued the sandwich shop for advertising a half-foot thick steak sandwich, which he’d measured to be five inches? They settled with the restaurant, but I mean—”
“At least the kid had math in his favor.” Sebastian raised his mug, and a drip of coffee sloshed out onto the wood floor.
Norah eyed it.
Sebastian ignored it.
Dover chuckled. “Math, hauntings, sandwiches—point is, people find ways to try to get justice, founded or not. Again, to be on the safe side, I’d get a lawyer’s counsel on this one. If Mrs. Miller evensuggestsa lawsuit, you might have to revisit the place’s history to prove her ghost claims have no validity. And let’s be honest, such a lawsuit has a slim chance of going anywhere, but the bad publicity it might bring about this place? You can’t run a successful B and B if you don’t have any guests.”
Or if you go bankrupt paying a lawyer in defense of a woman claiming death byghost!The idiocy of the situation swept away any empathy that was gnawing at her on behalf of Mrs. Miller.
The last thing she wanted to do was revisit the history of 322 Predicament Avenue. From the turn of the century or from twelve years ago! But now a third death had marked its place in the house.
Norah felt the skeletal claws of history snatching at her ankles, stealing her breath away. No, she couldn’t revisit history here, not at Predicament Avenue. She had buried it, and it needed to stay buried. Along with tales of Isabelle Addington, Shepherd’s first murder victim, and Naomi Richman, Shepherd’s last.
