Read Online Shades of Midnight by Linda Winstead Jones - Free Book Online
Authors: Linda Winstead Jones
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Since everyone remembered the storm that came through that night, I think we can take it as fact."
"I'll concede that one."
"Thank you so much," she said caustically. "We know that at ten-fifteen Viola and Alistair were... you know, and just minutes before midnight, Alistair stabbed his wife in the back. Sometime later that night, or in the early hours of the next morning, he killed himself."
Lucien screwed up his mouth and wrinkled his nose. "Stabbed himself in the heart. That's rather unusual. There was most likely a firearm in the house. Why not simply shoot himself? It's a much more common method of suicide."
"I think we can safely say that there was something not quite right with the way Alistair's mind worked." A man who would coldly murder a woman who adored him... no, that was definitely not right.
"Might he have forgiven her, as some of your informants have claimed, but then simply snapped on the evening in question?"
"Perhaps." Eve rested her elbows on the table and placed her chin in her hands. "We haven't much time. Halloween is in four days! Once that day passes, it'll be almost another year before the spirits who haunt this house will be forceful enough for us to see and hear them. If we can't solve this mystery soon, I might have to wait another year to get rid of the ghosts."
"And of course, you can't begin your ordinary life until Viola and Alistair move on," Lucien said dryly.
"There's nothing wrong with what I want," she said defensively.
"It's a waste," he said, returning his attention to the dish of ectoplasm on the floor. "A complete and total waste of an exceptional woman."
Apparently not exceptional enough.
When someone knocked soundly on the front door, Eve almost jumped out of her skin. Lucien, intent on studying his goo, seemed not to hear.
"I'll get it," Eve said, rising sharply to her feet. Lucien muttered something unintelligible, and she rolled her eyes as she walked past.
Eve opened the door to Douglas Hunt, Alistair's old business partner and the man who had sold her this house. From the expression on his face, something horrible had happened. In the last light of day, it was quite clear that he was livid.
"I want you out of this house," Hunt said as he pushed his way inside.
"Excuse me?" Eve asked. "Is there a problem?"
"Yes!" Hunt turned on her and raked a hand through his gray hair. "There is most definitely a problem. I hear you have ghosts, Miss Abernathy."
Word certainly traveled quickly. "Perhaps..."
"I took you for a sensible woman who would not become hysterical and imagine... ghosts."
"I'm not the first to report such sightings," Eve said calmly. "Isn't that why this lovely house stood vacant for so long?"
This house had been quite a bargain, since it had been sitting empty for so long. She could not have afforded anything so nice, otherwise. In the past three months she had painted, cleaned, repaired... all on her own. This was her house. She had come to love it.
Hunt gritted his teeth. "It's been years since anyone tried to drag up the past."
"That's because it's been years since anyone lived here." She cocked her head and studied the man's florid face. "Why are you so upset? If there are indeed ghosts, I'm the one who has to deal with them. Not you. If Alistair and Viola's spirits are present, then they are residents of this house and none of your concern."
Hunt's eyes examined every corner, much as Justina Markham's had, as if he searched for signs of another presence. Did he wish to see them? Or not?
"Alistair and I were partners in the mill for seven years," he said softly. "I introduced him to Viola, for God's sake. I thought..." He caught his breath, as if catching a confession before it could escape. "I thought they would suit one another well. If not for me Alistair never would have married Viola, much less..." He choked on the words that would not come.
"You have no reason to feel guilty." She didn't like Hunt, particularly, but at the moment she
"I'll concede that one."
"Thank you so much," she said caustically. "We know that at ten-fifteen Viola and Alistair were... you know, and just minutes before midnight, Alistair stabbed his wife in the back. Sometime later that night, or in the early hours of the next morning, he killed himself."
Lucien screwed up his mouth and wrinkled his nose. "Stabbed himself in the heart. That's rather unusual. There was most likely a firearm in the house. Why not simply shoot himself? It's a much more common method of suicide."
"I think we can safely say that there was something not quite right with the way Alistair's mind worked." A man who would coldly murder a woman who adored him... no, that was definitely not right.
"Might he have forgiven her, as some of your informants have claimed, but then simply snapped on the evening in question?"
"Perhaps." Eve rested her elbows on the table and placed her chin in her hands. "We haven't much time. Halloween is in four days! Once that day passes, it'll be almost another year before the spirits who haunt this house will be forceful enough for us to see and hear them. If we can't solve this mystery soon, I might have to wait another year to get rid of the ghosts."
"And of course, you can't begin your ordinary life until Viola and Alistair move on," Lucien said dryly.
"There's nothing wrong with what I want," she said defensively.
"It's a waste," he said, returning his attention to the dish of ectoplasm on the floor. "A complete and total waste of an exceptional woman."
Apparently not exceptional enough.
When someone knocked soundly on the front door, Eve almost jumped out of her skin. Lucien, intent on studying his goo, seemed not to hear.
"I'll get it," Eve said, rising sharply to her feet. Lucien muttered something unintelligible, and she rolled her eyes as she walked past.
Eve opened the door to Douglas Hunt, Alistair's old business partner and the man who had sold her this house. From the expression on his face, something horrible had happened. In the last light of day, it was quite clear that he was livid.
"I want you out of this house," Hunt said as he pushed his way inside.
"Excuse me?" Eve asked. "Is there a problem?"
"Yes!" Hunt turned on her and raked a hand through his gray hair. "There is most definitely a problem. I hear you have ghosts, Miss Abernathy."
Word certainly traveled quickly. "Perhaps..."
"I took you for a sensible woman who would not become hysterical and imagine... ghosts."
"I'm not the first to report such sightings," Eve said calmly. "Isn't that why this lovely house stood vacant for so long?"
This house had been quite a bargain, since it had been sitting empty for so long. She could not have afforded anything so nice, otherwise. In the past three months she had painted, cleaned, repaired... all on her own. This was her house. She had come to love it.
Hunt gritted his teeth. "It's been years since anyone tried to drag up the past."
"That's because it's been years since anyone lived here." She cocked her head and studied the man's florid face. "Why are you so upset? If there are indeed ghosts, I'm the one who has to deal with them. Not you. If Alistair and Viola's spirits are present, then they are residents of this house and none of your concern."
Hunt's eyes examined every corner, much as Justina Markham's had, as if he searched for signs of another presence. Did he wish to see them? Or not?
"Alistair and I were partners in the mill for seven years," he said softly. "I introduced him to Viola, for God's sake. I thought..." He caught his breath, as if catching a confession before it could escape. "I thought they would suit one another well. If not for me Alistair never would have married Viola, much less..." He choked on the words that would not come.
"You have no reason to feel guilty." She didn't like Hunt, particularly, but at the moment she
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