Page 9 of Dragged Home for Christmas

“Oh no, Mr. O’Neill. They live there—that is, they’ve been living there for the past seven years. And when your uncle died, they stayed put.”

“Why didn’t they leave when he passed?”

“You’ll have to ask them that question.” Mr. Hopkins opened a drawer and removed a large brown envelope. “This contains all the keys and the details relating to the Velvet House.”

“Excuse me? The what?”

He smiled. “That’s the name of the property. It’s located within Provincetown’s historic district, and parts of the building date back to 1858. President Ulysses S. Grant is supposed to have stayed there overnight on July 22, 1871.” Another smile. “There is some doubt as to the veracity of that claim, however, and some say that while he did visit Provincetown, he did not actually stay the night.” He gave a conspiratorial smirk. “There are rumors aboutwhyhe visited, and none of them required more than a few hours at most.”

“How big is the place?”

Mr. Hopkins steepled his fingers. “The Velvet House has had many incarnations. It was at one time a thirty-three-room hotel. There are three bars located on the site. There was also a basement nightclub that used to host several gay parties per week in the summer, and even hosted experimental theater in the 1960s. There was a restaurant too, along with a commercial kitchen, but the more recent use of the space was as a playhouse.” His face fell. “Since your uncle’s death, it has been empty.”

“Apart from four drag queens,” Mike prompted.

He coughed. “Quite.” He placed a sheaf of papers in front of Mike. “Please sign where you see the marked places.”

Mike took the offered pen and signed. “Then that’s it?”

“That is it.” Mr. Hopkins handed him the envelope. “You’ll find the Velvet House on Carver Street. And… Good luck.”

It sounded as though Mike was going to need it.

He paused at the door. “I guess Halloween has been rained off.”

Mr. Hopkins chuckled. “I’m afraid you’ve missed it. All the festivities took place over the weekend. That’s usually what happens here. There won’t be much happening tonight.” He followed Mike out, and stared in surprise at Ashley. “Oh. Are you the young lady with whom I spoke on the phone?”

“Yes, Mr. Hopkins. I’m Ashley Winters.”

His gaze went from Ashley to Mike, his brow furrowed. “I didn’t realize you had a partner.”

Mike and Ashley’s twin bursts of laughter couldn’t have been more synchronized.

“Oh, he issonot my partner,” Ashley said with a grin.“I’m his roommate.”

Mike wasn’t about to stand around indulging in small talk, not when daylight was fading, and he wasn’t sure what awaited him on Carver Street.

“Thank you again, Mr. Hopkins.” He grabbed Ashley by the elbow and tugged her toward the door. They ran to the truck, trying to dodge the heavy drops of rain that were still falling. Once he was behind the wheel again, he shook his head.

“You arenotgonna believe this.” He shared what Mr. Hopkins had told him.

Ashley grinned. “Drag queens? Who lived with your uncle? Oh, this gets better and better.”

“That makes it sound as though there was something going on between them all. Maybe they were just long-term guests,” Mike suggested.

“Mm-hm. Andmaybenow we know why your dad broke off all contact with him.” She got her phone out. “So where are we going?”

“Carver Street.”

Ashley typed. “Okay, head back up Commercial Street. Carver Street is on your left. It’s not far.”

Mike switched on the engine and carefully backed out onto the road, the wipers going like they were possessed. Relying on street signs was useless in the heavy rain.

“Any second now,” Ashley told him.

Mike took the next turning. Carver Street was steep, and at the top of the hill, he spied an imposing building. “That must be it,” he murmured. He drove toward it and pulled into the parking lot.

The Velvet House was a four-story L-shaped building with a white-painted veranda, reached by a set of steep steps, a railing up the middle of them. On top of the railingswere flower boxes filled with flowers, and skeletons in black robes hung at intervals.

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