The Ghost and The Haunted Mansion: A Haunted Bookshop Mystery

a corner of the fabric. “That’s all right, Pen,” she said. “This rug is much lighter than it looks.”
    In a flash, Fiona pulled the carpet aside—and the room exploded with shocked gasps.
    “My God! Look at that,” Dr. Pepper cried, staring at the newly exposed floor.
    “What is it?” Seymour asked, staring at the bizarre design etched into the floorboards.
    I stepped forward, examined the strange circle on the hardwood, and immediately recognized the familiar pentagram pattern with the fleur-de-lis center. The star design was surrounded with weird symbols.
    “It’s a magic circle,” Brainert said in a tone of amazed disbelief.
    “A magic circle?” Bud scratched his head. “Just looks like a star design to me. The same one that’s on the fence outside. What the hell’s it for?”
    “People who practice the occult arts use the magic circle for protection against harm,” Brainert replied.
    Seymour’s eyes bugged. “Protection? Protection from what?”
    Brainert hesitated a moment, then answered. “Evil spirits. Demons from hell. That sort of thing.”
    Harlan Gilman leaned forward on his cane. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
    In silence, everyone gazed down at the weird design. I dropped to one knee beside Brainert.
    “What are these symbols?” I asked. “They look familiar.”
    “Astrological signs. You see them every day in the paper.”
    “Oh, yes, I see.”
    He pointed. “And over there, those are the Greek symbols for alpha and omega.”
    “It looks like these designs were carved into the wood and then painted.”
    Brainert gingerly touched the edge of the circle, then sank his index finger into the groove. “No, it’s not painted. I think it’s burned in.”
    “Burned?” My aunt gasped. “How?”
    “By Hell’s fire—wooo-woooo,” Gilman said in a spooky voice.
    “Cut the crap, Gilman,” Bud said. With one arm, he hugged my aunt’s narrow shoulders. “The design was made with a wood burner, honey. Satan had nothing to do with it.”
    “How old is this?” Brainert wondered aloud. “I suppose that it’s possible Miss Todd didn’t even know what was under her rug.”
    I rubbed my own finger inside a groove and it came away clean. “You’re no housewife, Brainert. Look, there’s no dust. And candles have been burned here.” I pointed to dollops of melted black wax at each point of the star, then rubbed the wax with my thumbnail. “Recently. The wax is still soft.”
    “Ah . . . Listen, guys,” Seymour said. “I saw this design somewhere else in the house, besides the wrought-iron fence out front, I mean—”
    The doorbell rang, its bing-bong startling everyone.
    “I’d better get that,” Seymour said. He glanced down at the magic circle. “Cover that up, please!”
    Seymour headed off to the foyer and Fiona reached for the carpet. I stopped her and pulled my cell phone out of my pants pocket. After snapping several images of the circle from different angles, I helped Fiona cover it up again.
    A minute later, Seymour returned holding a black bottle with a velvet ribbon around its neck. At his side was that intense young woman who’d manned the front desk at Emory Stoddard’s run-down law office.
    “Hey, everyone, I’d like you to meet Ophelia Tuttle. Ms. Tuttle works for my lawyer.”
    Tonight Ophelia Tuttle wore a form-fitting sleeveless dress of crimson silk. Her dark hair was piled on her head and held in place by a gold clasp in the shape of a scarab. Around her long neck she wore a choker of black velvet. Her sophisticated hair, low-cut dress, black polished fingernails, bloodred lipstick, dark eye shadow, and heavy black liner beneath severe rimless glasses contrasted dramatically with Ophelia’s pale complexion and obvious youth. I saw more than a few of Seymour’s male friends take immediate notice.
    I noticed one other thing about her—a very important thing. With her glossy raven hair in an upsweep, I could now see the shape of the tattoo on her upper arm. It was a gold ankh, just like the ankh ring Stoddard had been wearing.
    Was it pure coincidence? Or had she gotten the tattoo because of Stoddard’s ring? Had she given him the ring? Either way, it seemed to me Miss Todd’s lawyer and his assistant were more than employer and employee.
    “And what’s she doing here anyway?” I silently wondered.
    The mailman invited her, remember?
    “I remember, Jack, but he invited her to come with Stoddard. I don’t see him, do you? As