The Ghost and The Haunted Mansion: A Haunted Bookshop Mystery

just know you suspect me of something. Why don’t you enlighten me on the what ?”
    “I need to know the name and address of Miss Todd’s living sister. It’s important.”
    “Why?”
    “I think she’s trying to hurt Seymour.”
    Ophelia’s eyebrows rose. “What makes you think that?”
    “A lot of things make me think it, but I’d rather not go into all of that right now.”
    Just spill, Cleo. Give up the name.
    “Cleo?” Ophelia frowned and glanced around. “Who’s Cleo?”
    “You,” I informed her. “Your makeup reminds Jack of Cleopatra.”
    She’s not Egyptian, is she, doll?
    Ophelia rolled her eyes. “The ‘smoky eye’ look is in, sir.”
    Don’t call me sir. It makes me feel old.
    “As opposed to dead?”
    This whole thing was freaking me out. I drained my glass, which began to impair my ability to stand completely straight. Whoa.
    Listen up, raccoon eyes! Answer the questions and lose the attitude!
    “It’s my attitude. Live with it. Oops. You can’t, can you?”
    Show some respect for the dead!
    The room began to spin a little and suddenly got a whole lot colder. I shivered. “Stop pissing him off,” I warned, knowing instinctively it was Jack creating the chill and not some other spook.
    “Sorry,” she said, but her tone was still insolent.
    Then Ophelia’s handbag rang—or rather the cell phone inside it. She fished it out and took the cell call in front of me (and Jack).
    “Yes?” She glanced at me, then higher up. “I’m at Mr. Tarnish’s,” she told the other party. She listened some more, then looked back at me. “Excuse me.”
    She walked away, her voice a whisper. After a minute, she closed the phone, threw me an uneasy glance, and approached Seymour, who was laughing with April Briggs on the red velvet, claw-footed loveseat in the corner.
    “Alas, I’ve got to go,” Ophelia announced.
    Brainert wandered over to say goodbye to Seymour as well. As I bid him pleasant dreams, I noticed Leo Rollins had finished working on the television and was drinking a bottle of Sam Adams. His gaze appeared preoccupied with Ophelia. Did he know her? It sure seemed to me she threw him a nod of recognition when she’d first walked in.
    I addressed the ghost: “I was just thinking . . .”
    Considering your inebriated state, that’s a miracle—
    “No, not thinking.” I shook my head, trying to clear it. “More like remembering. Leo Rollins has that suspicious knife with the Todd Mansion pentagram design. And Leo was on the road that day I found Miss Todd’s corpse. Don’t you recall? I heard that Harley motor of his first, and then I saw him pass me going in the opposite direction.”
    So?
    “So Leo was coming from Larchmont. He could have been at Miss Todd’s house. He could have been involved in her death!”
    I passed Bud Napp, who was loudly complaining about the construction vehicles parked in front of his business. As I approached Leo, I noticed him glance at me, then nervously shift his bottle from one hand to the other.
    “He’s looking awfully uncomfortable, Jack.”
    Could be he’s just bashful around attractive redheads.
    “Who, me?” I pushed up my black-framed glasses. “Get a grip!”
    “Hi, Leo,” I said, a little too loudly. (The Long Island Iced Tea was most definitely talking now.) “I wanted to thank you again for helping my aunt and me on the highway the other night!”
    “No big deal,” he grunted, then lowered his eyes.
    “So, are you having fun?”
    “Sure,” he said with a shrug.
    “Really something about that pentagram design on the floor, huh?” I pointed to the rug. “It looks just like the one on your dagger.”
    Leo’s head bobbed once. “I guess.”
    “Tell me again where you got that—”
    “Hey, Leo,” Bud cried, interrupting.
    “Yeah,” Leo said, looking past me.
    “You know Jim Wolfe, right? You did work for him last year. Can’t you ask him to move his trucks?”
    “I haven’t seen him much, not this summer. He cut back—having a bad year, I think. I’m not on his payroll. Anyway, I’m just an independent contractor. He’s not going to listen to me.” Leo drained his bottle, and before I could speak with him again, he whirled and headed for Hardy Miles and a refill.
    Sadie appeared just then, and offered me the last pass on the tray of fried chicken. I wolfed down two wings, suddenly ravenous, and realized eating might help me sober up. I found more snacks, then headed to the bar again and ordered