The Ghost and The Haunted Mansion: A Haunted Bookshop Mystery

with off-putting pretension. Take the cupola crowning the roof. I usually liked cupolas. The doming tops of cathedrals always reminded me of the top tier of a wedding cake. But the trapezoidal shape of the cupola on the roof of this Victorian was an Addams Family fright.
    The worst detail was the decorative wrought iron, spiking out of the roof’s upper cornices like a punk rocker’s overgelled hair. Almost as bad, in my opinion, was the porch.
    The Finches’ wraparound veranda was as wide and open as a grandmother’s arms. The narrow deck of stone on the Todd mansion appeared to be demanding references. A pair of Ionic stone columns felt intimidating, and the triangular gable that sat above them completed the sort of formal, Greek Revival style one usually saw in government buildings. The effect was chilly and forbidding, a theme echoed in the rusting, eight-foot fence built around the perimeter of the large property.
    Miss Todd’s was the oldest house on Larchmont. Its grounds were also the largest since it was built well away from the rest of the neighborhood, the last home in the development. Larchmont Avenue kept going after Miss Todd’s place, wending its way down, down, down, the countryside, through a densely wooded area until it finally turned into Mill Run Road, and connected to a large highway, which led to Millstone, the next town over.
    As we approached Miss Todd’s drive, I took a closer look at the wrought-iron fencing around the property. The design in the fence always caught my eye—not because I liked it. The motif was one I’d never seen before or since: a continuous pattern of five-pointed stars, each with a fleur-de-lis in the center.
    “You know, I’ve seen pentagrams before—especially in our occult book section. But I never saw one with a fleur-de-lis at its center. This is the only place I’ve ever seen that design.”
    Oh, yeah? Well, I’ve seen it before.
    “You have? Where?”
    It’s a long story, honey. Ask me when you have time to listen.
    Jack was right. I had books to deliver and errands to run, and I was already turning my car through the gated entrance to Miss Todd’s mansion. The heavy iron doors were open wide, and I suspected they’d rusted in place. My car’s tires bumped and rumbled up the cobblestones. I cut the engine and climbed out.
    The wind was still strong, but it was a hot wind, offering little relief from the warm day. I redid my ponytail, securing the flyaway auburn strands. That was when I noticed the double doors at the front of the house standing wide open.
    “I guess Timothea is expecting me.”
    Even as I said it, I found the sight of the open doors disturbing. But it was Jack who gave voice to my buried suspicions.
    Something’s wrong, dollface. A dame who’s got a phobia about going outside isn’t about to leave her front doors like that.
    Deep inside I knew Jack was right. But a more shallow part of me wasn’t in the mood to foresee gloom ahead.
    “Maybe the house just got stuffy!” I chirped, electing to believe my sunny side. “It is awfully hot.”
    Uh-huh. Sure you want to go in there?
    “Either that or I drove up here for nothing.” I reached for the carton of books in the backseat, only to find they’d tumbled onto the floor. “Great.”
    Leave the kindling. Keep your hands free.
    “For what?”
    The ghost did not reply. With an exhale of frustration, I slung my bag over my shoulder and dropped my car keys into my pocket.
    “Okay,” I told the ghost, whether he was listening or not. “I’ll come back for the books. But I’m sure nothing’s wrong.”
    I reassessed that opinion a few moments later, after I passed through the towering Ionic columns of the formal front porch and discovered the mess inside the mansion’s foyer.
    Not good, baby. Looks like signs of a struggle.
    Mail was scattered all over the hardwood floor, and a delicate little black-lacquered table had tumbled onto its side.
    Nervous now, I remained outside and began ringing the doorbell. Its electronic buzz sounded from somewhere deep inside the massive house. I knocked loudly and called out: “Miss Todd!”
    Silence.
    “Jack?” I whispered.
    Go inside, honey, but be careful. Keep your peepers open.
    I took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold. “Miss Todd?” I called again.
    My voice echoed back to me. I took another step, moving into the hallway. There was nobody on the staircase; nobody lying at the base of the steps, either.
    “At