Page 25 of Gumbo, Ghosts, and Deadly Deception
"Could be the old wiring," he said, scratching his head as he examined the fuse box in the basement.
I was pretty sure that was totally one hundred percent obvious. But I bit my lip and stayed quiet.
"This house has been rewired at least three times over the decades. Sometimes the systems don't play nice together."
"So it's not ghosts?" I asked, only half-joking.
Sam gave me the look he usually reserved for Teddy. He wasn’t a fan of my skunk. "Harper, honey, you know I don’t believe in that mumbo jumbo."
After he left, with a promise to return Monday with some new electrical components, I found myself completely alone in the house for the first time since Delia's death. The Houston family had finally relocated to a hotel downtown ("nothing personal," Pete had said, "but Jan's nerves can't take any more excitement"), and Arthur was at the convention.
I actually found myself missing Pete. His jovial classic dad jokes and demeanor were the normal I could use.
I had new guests arriving for Rooms Three and Four on Saturday and that felt odd. I wasn’t sure what my responsibility was in terms of telling them someone just died in the house. Maybe I could talk Arthur into switching from Room Five to Three since he didn’t seem bothered by death.
The silence of being alone should have been peaceful. Instead, it felt expectant.
"Just you and me, Teddy," I said to my skunk, who was conducting his afternoon inspection of the kitchen baseboards. "Maybe we can finally get some answers about Aunt Odette's famous jambalaya recipe."
Teddy looked up and chittered softly, which I chose to interpret as "excellent plan, let's solve some mysteries."
I'd been thinking about Delia's note all morning. Look for the room that doesn't exist on any blueprint. Yesterday, Maggie and I had found the brass key hidden behind the pantry baseboard, but we hadn't had time to search for whatever it might open. Today, with no guests to worry about and Sam's assurance that the house wasn't about to burn down, I was ready to do some serious exploring.
I started in the kitchen, studying Aunt Odette's hand-drawn floor plan from the recipe card. The room marked "F.D." was definitely positioned where the pantry wall stood now. But if there had once been a passage to the old summer kitchen, there had to be more evidence of it somewhere.
Teddy had resumed his baseboard patrol, but now he was focusing on a section of wall near the stove. He scratched at it persistently, then sat back on his haunches and looked at me expectantly.
"What is it, boy?"
I knelt down beside him and ran my hands along the wall. When I pressed on the wood paneling, it gave slightly, like there was hollow space behind it.
"Bingo," I murmured.
But before I could investigate further, the lights flickered again three times, then went out completely. The skies had darkened on cue with an incoming storm. That's when I heard it.
Whispering.
Not the old-house-settling sounds I was used to, but actual voices. Soft, urgent, coming from somewhere inside the walls.
"She knows."
"Should have stayed away."
My skin erupted in goosebumps. Teddy had gone completely still, his fur standing on end. It was like the voice on the recording.
"Hello?" I called out, feeling ridiculous. "Is someone there?"
I mentally kicked myself. That’s what every woman about to die in a horror movie does. Sure, let’s just call out to the potential killer.
The whispering stopped immediately.
The lights flickered back on.
And standing in my kitchen doorway was Ginger St. James, her crystal necklaces catching the restored light like tiny prisms.
I jumped. “Geez! You scared the pants off of me.”
Was Ginger randomly whispering? Was that what I had heard?
