Page 4 of Southernmost Murder
“Adam,” I began, “I’ve been managing this home for two years. I spend more time here than I do in my own house. I can absolutely assure you that it’s not haunted.”
“You’re a cynical New Yorker—what else would you say?”
“I’m not cynical.”
“I’ve seen things,” Adam insisted. “Not here, but at my grandmother’s house. It was old. We’re talking Revolutionary War old. And sometimes, at night… I’d hear someone walking up and down the stairs in heavy boots. It was just the two of us there, and my grandma’s as big as you. No way she was clunking around like that. One time,” he continued, “I decided to get up and follow the sound.”
A breeze rustled the leaves of the sapodilla trees. A few fruits loosened and fell to the paved walkway with a splat. The morning chatter and the laughter of tourists were beginning to fill the streets just past our white picket fence, but it sounded… distant. Like a bubble had encased us.
“A man was standing in the living room,” Adam said. His face had gone pale, and he licked his lips. “He was juststanding there, Aubs. With a musket over one shoulder and an old hat on his head. He turned and looked right at me, and clear as day, he said, ‘I’ve got to go fight.’”
I didn’t believe in ghosts.
And I didn’t believe Adam.
But we were fairly friendly at this point, and the guy was too sweet to lie, so his story left me… puzzled.
An unwelcome shiver crept up my spine.
“Mr. Grant?”
I jumped at the call of my name, and Adam grabbed my shoulder. The bubble around us burst, and the roar of a busy Key West morning invaded the garden. There was a plain-clothed officer standing outside the fence.
“Oh yes! That’s me. Thank you for coming.” I left Adam and hurried to unlock the gate and allow him into the garden.
“Detective Tillman. I was told there was a body on the property,” he said. He was a tall (well, everyone was, by my standards), lean guy. Brown hair, a light tan, and no features that really stood out. He wasn’t ugly or anything, just sort of someone who blended into a crowd. Except his eyes. They were sharp like broken glass. Definitely a cop, even in trousers and a button-down shirt.
“Believe me, if it had been closer to October, I’d have thought someone was pulling my leg. But this is very real.”
“Been around a lot of bodies, Mr. Grant?”
I raised an eyebrow. “I have enough understanding of human anatomy to know the difference between a plastic skeleton from Kmart and the real deal.”
Tillman’s mouth tightened.
Yeah, I could be sassy too, buddy.
“Mind showing me?”
I nodded and led the way up the porch steps. I unlocked both doors, ignored Herb’s snoring, and walked into the house. “It’s on the third floor,” I said, starting up the stairs.
“How exactly did you come upon it, Mr. Grant?” Tillman asked.
“Aubrey,” I insisted over my shoulder. “And I was getting ready to remove old wallpaper in the closet. I guess during the process I uncovered some sort of latch, the false wall gave way, and Skelly—uh, he or she came tumbling out.”
“Find many hiding places in this house?”
“Not exactly a regular habit, no.”
I led Tillman across the hall of the second floor and up another set of stairs. When we reached the landing of the third floor, I walked over to the closet.
The skeleton was gone.
Chapter Two
DETECTIVE TILLMANraised an eyebrow.
“Wait! It wasright here. How did…?” I stepped into the cramped closet and turned a full circle. “I don’t understand. It was here. See, this little nook,” I protested as I pointed to the empty space inside the wall.
