Free A Fatal Twist of Lemon by Patrice Greenwood Page A

a moment gazing at the room, then turned to me.
    â€œDo you mind if I go in?”
    I shrugged and gestured that she could. It wasn’t as though a herd of elephants hadn’t already been through there.
    She walked all around the dining table, looking at the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Finally she went and stood against the north wall, behind the table, and closed her eyes.
    I watched in horrified fascination. Was she trying to commune with Captain Dusenberry? Was Sylvia getting in the way? She did have a tendency to interrupt…
    I shook my head to clear it. I should probably find out exactly what had happened to Captain Dusenberry. Maybe the Preservation Trust would have some records. I didn’t feel like asking Willow.
    Willow inhaled sharply through her nose, then let out her breath in a long sigh. She opened her eyes and nodded, as if agreeing with something someone had said. At last she came out of the room.
    â€œYou might want to keep this door closed,” she said, gesturing at the dining parlor’s door. “I think the spirit is active.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œYes.” She glanced at me, then back at the dining parlor. “May we talk privately?”
    â€œOf course,” I said, stifling a sigh. “Would you like some tea?”
    â€œNo, thank you. I have to meet a tour group at ten-thirty.”
    I glanced into the dining parlor. It seemed perfectly normal, but still I turned off the light and closed the door.
    Willow smiled in approval. “Best to leave it quiet for a while. It may be that all the recent activity has stirred the spirit up a bit too much.”
    â€œMm.”
    â€œMany people find that they can coexist peacefully with resident spirits,” Willow added as I led her down the hall to the front parlor. “Over at La Posada they get along pretty well with Julia Staub.”
    â€œDo they?”
    â€œThere’s no reason why that can’t be true for you as well.”
    I invited her to sit in Lily, by a window overlooking the porch. She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I just wanted to tell you that it’s possible Captain Dusenberry’s spirit is responsible for what happened last night.”
    â€œAre—are you suggesting that a ghost killed Sylvia Carruthers?”
    â€œIt’s possible,” she said, her pale eyes wide behind the wire frames. “Physical manifestations are rare because they require a great deal of energy, but they have been documented. A restless spirit, one with pent-up hostility, might very well be able to attack and kill a human being.”
    I leaned back in my chair. “Forgive me, but I find that very hard to believe.”
    â€œDo you?” Her faint smile returned. “Would you also have trouble believing that no fingerprints were found on the murder weapon?”
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 5 
    I stared at Willow in astonishment. Behind her the lace curtains stirred, though the window was closed. Stray draft, I told myself. Old houses are drafty.
    â€œHow do you know there were no fingerprints?” I asked.
    â€œI have a friend in the police department. I’d better not mention who.”
    â€œWell, the killer could have worn gloves,” I said.
    Willow tilted her head, blue eyes gazing at me with steady curiosity. “Wouldn’t you have noticed someone wearing gloves?”
    I would, and in fact I had, but I didn’t care to discuss that with Willow. “My point is that there could be any number of reasons for a lack of fingerprints,” I said.
    Not the least of which being that the weapon was a necklace of tiny beads. I was surprised that none of my prints had been found on it, but then it had broken, and even if it hadn’t, getting all the strands to line up again…
    â€œTrue,” Willow said. “I don’t know that the spirit is responsible, I only wanted to alert you to the possibility. Do be careful, Ms. Rosings. There