The Icing on the Corpse Page 9

  “It was a boxer named Felix Constantine.” Fox referred back to his notes. “Back in 1949. He was supposed to fight one of the locals and vanished after a big bash in town the night before the match. His body was found a few days later. In the basement. No one was ever charged, according to my research. Lack of evidence, supposedly. But perhaps Felix thinks it’s finally time to set himself free.”

  Stan hung on every word. She loved ghost stories. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jake’s face turning cloudier and decided to ignore it. She couldn’t concentrate thinking about his anger.

  “So what does that mean? This ghost wants to tell us who his killer was?” Izzy asked. “Is that . . . dangerous?”

  Fox’s face turned somber. “There’s always the possibility a spirit is demonic. It’s actually not common. Spirits like those in The Amityville Horror and The Conjuring aren’t the norm. Sometimes the deceased doesn’t actually realize he or she is dead, and they’re just trying to get home. But we have to be prepared for anything, and that includes ‘evil’ spirits.” He accented the word evil with air quotes. “Have you felt or experienced anything while you were in here?”

  “I haven’t,” Izzy said. “But I’m not here that much. Jake, have you?”

  Jake’s face remained stony. “No.”

  Izzy frowned at him. “He wouldn’t tell you anyway. We just started renovations about a month ago,” she said, turning back to Fox. “The building has been vacant for a long time. I wonder if all the work stirred something up?”

  Fox nodded. “Could very well be.”

  “Wow. This is bananas.” Izzy looked like she wasn’t sure if she should be excited, nervous, or both. “I wish we could ask Helga about the murder.” The words left her mouth before she caught them, and she cast a guilty look at Jake. His face didn’t change.

  “You said someone called and told you about this place,” Stan said. “Who was it?”

  “It was an anonymous tip,” Fox said.

  Jake looked skeptical. “Shouldn’t you be able to tell me who it was, since I’m the owner?”

  Fox spread his hands wide and offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. That’s part of my protocol. If someone asks to remain anonymous, I respect that.”

  Stan thought about that. “Did they tell you about the old murder, or only about weird things happening today?” she asked slowly.

  “The tip was about the activity,” Fox said, but there was something in his tone—a tad less confidence? a change of voice inflection?—that told Stan there was more to the story.

  “Don’t people usually want to be involved in tracking down the alleged ghost if they call in a tip?” Stan asked. “Or at least knowing for sure there was something weird going on?”

  “It really depends on the motivation of the person making the call,” Fox said. “No two tipsters are exactly the same.”

  No, they certainly weren’t. If it had been simply a worker spooked about something, would they have gone to all the trouble of calling Fox and team? Perhaps, if they were big fans of the show. But if it was someone else—someone who knew something about the old murder—they might have a very different reason for calling. And for staying anonymous.

  Chapter 13

  “So.” Fox rubbed his hands together. “What day should I plan on getting the crew in? We’ll need some setup time. I’m open to any of you joining us, since you have a connection.”

  “Really?” Stan must’ve sounded a little too excited, because Jake shot her a look. She pretended not to notice. A real, live ghost hunt with Adrian Fox? No way was she passing it up. Maybe they could help solve a cold case. Fox could help Frog Ledge find fame and fortune.

  “Absolutely.” Fox turned his highest wattage smile on her.

  “I’m in,” Izzy said. “Long as the ghosts aren’t gonna possess me or anything.”

  “I’m in, too,” Stan said, deliberately avoiding the daggers Jake sent her way.

  “Well, in all seriousness,” Fox said, “we do like to get a sense on our own, first, about what kinds of spirits we’re dealing with here, even with the worker reports. We’ll want to spend some time investigating before we bring in a civilian. So two separate visits are in order.”

  “A civilian.” Jake shook his head and looked at Izzy. “Are you sure we want to waste time on this? You know it means construction’s stopping, most likely for some ridiculous amount of time.”

  “We don’t like to upset people’s livelihoods any longer than necessary,” Fox said. “Trust me, I’m a businessman, too. I understand the pressures. If everyone is comfortable being in the building, I’m not suggesting work stops. We can certainly come in at night after the crew is finished.”

  Izzy crossed her arms. “See? It’s not a waste of time, McGee. This isn’t like the stall tactic that committee is trying to use to flat out stop the construction. The committee who doesn’t ever answer the phone, by the way. Nope, if there’s ghosts in this building, I wanna know about them. And if they’re ghosts who need relocating, I want some help before we open. Plus, haven’t you heard what we’ve been saying about publicity? It’s a no-brainer.”

  “Not if this drags on forver,” Jake said. “Fine, Izzy. Do what you want. I’ll let Frank know. Stan? You coming?”

  With an apologetic look at Fox, Stan nodded. “Yep. Izzy, I’ll call you later.”

  “It was lovely to meet you,” Fox said, taking her hand.

  Stan blushed. “You too, Mr. Fox.”

  “Call me Adrian.” He smiled and let her hand drop. Behind her, Jake’s thinly disguised snort became a cough.

  “Thanks, Adrian. Good luck in your investigation.” She turned and followed Jake, certain she was going to get an earful as soon as they were far enough away.

  But Jake said nothing as they walked the next block. He walked fast, the way he did when he was annoyed and trying not to say something to make matters worse.

  “It could be interesting,” Stan offered, grateful for the three dogs yanking on leashes in between them. She kept her gaze on the sidewalk ahead, not wanting to see the look on his face right now. Still, she felt his frown vibrating in the air between them.

  “Have you lost your mind?” he asked.

  Stan sighed. “Jake. These guys are pros. If they’re here, there’s a reason. And I’m sure it’s not undercover research for a new reality show about historical renovations.”

  “Come on, Stan.”

  “Come on, what? You really don’t believe in the paranormal?”

  He didn’t respond to that question. “Did you know Izzy had met with them already?” he asked.

  She stopped walking. “No, I didn’t. Last time I saw Izzy was yesterday morning. Sounds like Fox got to town yesterday afternoon. If you’re going to accuse me of lying or withholding information because Izzy’s my friend, that’s not okay. Just because you guys can’t stop bickering.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything. Don’t be so defensive.”

  Stan huffed out a breath. “Me? You’re the one having issues right now, not me. Come on, dogs.” She tugged them ahead. Henry tried to remain in the middle of her and Jake. Scruffy pranced ahead, and Duncan strained to keep up with her. Jake stayed by her side but remained silent. They stopped at the crosswalk heading to the library area and the green. Stan jabbed at the button and waited for the walk signal. Jake checked for cars and started walking, then backtracked when he realized she wasn’t joining him.

  “I forgot you don’t jaywalk. Look, I’m sorry. It’s just been a crappy week so far.”

  Her mind flashed to Helga at the bottom of the stairs, and she immediately felt bad. “I know. I’m sorry about that, but don’t take it out on me.”

  “You’re right. I just . . .” He blew out a frustrated breath. “Between Helga, and Frank, the regular stuff at the bar, and now this, I could use a vacation.”

  Stan brightened. “Somewhere warm? I could get on board with that.” Then she remembered her new commitments. “But I
can’t. With the wedding and everything.”

  “Wedding?” He slowed and stared at her. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

  She laughed. “No, my new job. I got sidetracked last night and didn’t get to tell you about it.”

  “Whose wedding? You’re doing human events now?”

  “Nope, it’s a doggie wedding.” The light turned and Stan stepped off the sidewalk. Scruffy, recognizing the familiar town green ahead, wooed in delight and tried to run. Stan kept a firm hold on the leash.

  Now Jake stopped dead in the crosswalk. “A what?”

  “Lucky you’re not jaywalking. You’ll get hit just standing there. You heard me. Long story. But it might be fun. It’s on Valentine’s Day. Although it’s outside. Which might not be fun if it snows or something.”

  “Whose dogs?” He jogged the rest of the way across the street to keep up with Duncan.

  “Dede Richardson.”

  “Really? I know Dede. She’s sweet. Her dogs are great. Well, the little one’s kind of a yipper, but the setter is awesome. Okay, then I guess it will be cute.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Stan frowned at him. “It would be cute anyway because I’m going to put on a rockin’ wedding.”

  “Of course you are.” But he’d shifted back to the problem at hand. “To go back to your earlier question, I wonder who the anonymous tipster is? If that’s even true.” He jammed the hand not holding Duncan’s leash into his pocket. It was getting colder, and he wasn’t wearing gloves.

  Stan didn’t want to bring up her conspiracy theory yet, especially given Jake’s reaction to the whole situation. “Are you sure it isn’t Frank?”

  They jogged down the gravel path, lightly dusted with snow from last night’s flurries, and hit the trail. The dogs immediately began their sniffing-everything-in-sight routines.

  “Frank? Why would Frank do that?” Jake asked. “It just means he’ll have to work at this job site longer. And it hurts me and Izzy, because if he gets another job, we’re on the back burner. Plus, Frank isn’t the type to believe in ghosts. Trust me.”

  “Does he want to hurt you? He didn’t look all that happy back there.”

  “No way.” Jake shook his head emphatically. “He’s a friend. He’s done a lot of work in town, and he’s hoping for more. This could go either way on the popularity scale.”

  “I don’t know. You sure there’s nothing he’d get out of this? Does he want fifteen minutes of fame? You know, he was the one who experienced the haunting, that sort of thing?” Maybe he wasn’t making enough on the job after all and wanted to find a way to up his fee. She didn’t say that to Jake, but it was possible.

  “Frank’s not one for the spotlight. No,” he said. “It’s not Frank. Although I’m clueless about who it could be.”

  “What about someone else in town who doesn’t want the construction to move forward?” Stan asked. “What about that committee that’s trying to shut it down?”

  “I doubt a historical committee would resort to ghosts to plead their case. And I can’t think of anyone else.” He glanced at her again. “Unless it was Izzy.”

  “You think Izzy was the tipster? No, she would’ve said something if she thought there were ghosts in the building, for crying out loud.”

  “Not if she’s the one with an ulterior motive.”

  “What motive? She wants a bookstore. Yesterday.”

  Jake shrugged. “Maybe she’s looking for a guaranteed sales number when she opens. They were talking about all the publicity that comes from this stuff. She mentioned it three times during the conversation. Look, I don’t care that she wants to buy me out. I support that wholeheartedly. But while we’re co-owners, I don’t need any nonsense.”

  “Buy you out? What are you talking about?”

  “Well, yeah. As soon as she can get a handle on the finances, she’s going to take it over. I was trying to help her out with the construction and all that. I didn’t want it to be forever.”

  Izzy probably doesn’t want it to be forever either. “No?” she asked, noncommittal.

  “Nope, I’ve got enough on my plate with the bar. And you’re going to need more cooking and baking space soon. We might have to expand the kitchen at McGee’s so you have a place to work when you’re really busy.”

  “Wait. What?” This was the first she’d heard of that plan.

  “Yeah, Brenna’s always talking about how busy you’re getting and how long it takes to make all the batches of treats to fill orders. I figured at some point you could start using the oven in the bar’s kitchen. Depending on how well it goes, we might need to expand.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t really know what to say to that. “That’s really sweet of you.”

  He grinned. “You didn’t think I was sweet a few minutes ago.”

  “You weren’t being sweet a few minutes ago.”

  “Not when you were making google eyes at Adrian Fox or signing up for Ghostbusters.”

  “Oh, please!” It was nice to be joking around again. “Did you know about the murder?” she asked as they started around the circle.

  “I remember Helga talking about it once or twice, but didn’t really pay much attention,” he said. That dismissive tone again.

  It struck Stan as odd that he wouldn’t care about something as big as a murder on his property, but she didn’t feel like getting into another spat about it. It was too cold to fight. For the second time that week, she wished she’d brought her hat. Her ears were starting to freeze. Jake either noticed or he was just as cold. Maybe they had been a little too eager for spring.

  “Want to go halfway around?” he suggested. “Then you can drive me back to the pub?”

  “Sounds good to me.” She glanced wistfully down the green. Her house was a little green dot in the distance. “Maybe we can run?”

  By the time they reached her driveway, even the dogs were ready to go inside. Stan made them all a bowl of her turkey, kale, and potato hash, and fed Nutty some treats. While Jake made coffee, she checked her phone. Char had tried to call her two more times and sent three texts since her first attempt, all some variation of Where are you? And Call me! There was also a voice mail from last night that Stan hadn’t noticed.

  Stan slipped upstairs and called her back. “What’s up? Is everything okay?” she asked when her friend answered.

  “You’ll never believe who’s staying here,” Char said.

  But Stan had already been putting two and two together. Fox said he’d been in town since yesterday. They had to stay somewhere, and Char’s place was the only B and B in town. Although, if they were looking for discretion, they’d gone to the wrong place. Char would never make a good operative. She had too big of a mouth.

  “Adrian Fox?”

  “You knew?” Char sounded deflated.

  “I didn’t until a few minutes ago. Fox came by Jake and Izzy’s place this morning. He mentioned he’d been in town since yesterday.”

  “How’s that going over?” Char asked. Always eager for the gossip.

  “Izzy’s all for it. Jake’s not. I’ll fill you in later,” she said, and hung up despite Char’s protests. Once she dropped Jake off, she’d call her back.

  But Stan got sidetracked at the general store on the way back to her house. She needed ingredients for today’s recipes. Abbie, the owner, was behind the register. She waved when Stan ran in.

  “Hello there! Did you bring my order?”

  Stan hadn’t, but she had good reason. She’d run out of carob chips to make Abbie’s requested carob chip and banana biscuits. Abbie would know if the ingredients weren’t from her store.

  “I didn’t, but I’m going to bring it by later today. I ran out of carob chips, and you know I wouldn’t buy them anywhere but here. Is that okay?” She flashed her brightest smile and held her breath. Abbie could get testy. She was very fickle—some days she loved you, but if you fell out of her good graces, watch out.

  Abbie must’ve been in a good mood, though,
because she only had to think about it for a second before she smiled back. “No worries, hon. Later today is fine. Or even tomorrow. I have to rearrange my display. I’m going to put them right there.” She pointed to the handmade chest sitting next to her counter. Today, it featured a spread of homemade scones and muffins from a local bakery. “I can include a sign about how they’re made from all local ingredients. Including mine.”

  “That’s great. Thanks, Abbie.” Stan hurried down aisle three, grabbed two bags of carob chips and a jar of honey, and returned to pay for them.

  Abbie took the purchases and punched keys on the computer, then leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “So is it true Adrian Fox is in town?”

  Char must have been in. “He is,” she said cautiously.

  “Did you meet him?”

  “I did.” Stan made a big show of pulling a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet. “Here you go.”

  Abbie went back to ringing up the order, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. “I figured you would. I heard he’s been poking around Jake’s building.”

  “He’s looking at Jake and Izzy’s building for a possible investigation.” Stan took her change and waited for Abbie to bag the chips.

  “It’s the boxer, isn’t it?” Abbie said triumphantly. “I knew that would come out someday.”

  “The boxer, yeah, he mentioned that. So . . . do a lot of people know that story?” Stan asked, tucking the small paper bag Abbie handed her into her oversized tote.

  Abbie shrugged. “Die-hard Frog Ledgers do. And it’s become sort of a town legend, too. Like how Salem has the witches.”

  Slightly different, but Stan let it go.

  “But let me tell you,” Abbie continued, “a lot of people are going to object to that story leaving our boundaries. That ain’t the kind of dirty laundry the people of this town are going to want aired out. Especially if these fancy TV people think they’re gonna help solve it.”

  Chapter 14

  Stan walked slowly back to her car. It had been cold when she went inside, but now everything about this day seemed downright frigid. Abbie’s words bounced around in her brain. While her statement had sounded dramatic, Stan couldn’t help but think there were kernels of truth inside it.