A Drop in the Potion by Constance Barker

A Drop in the Potion by Constance Barker

Author:Constance Barker [Barker, Constance]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Constance Barker
Published: 2019-12-11T06:00:00+00:00


Chapter 10

“Is what a ghost?”

“The murderer. Was that woman murdered by a ghost?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Who’s saying that?”

“Well, some of the people at the party thought it had to be the ghost of Amelia Windermere who returned to reclaim the manor.”

“Why would they think that?”

“Because no one was seen entering the room before the body was found. Only an invisible ghost could sneak into the room.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think it was the ghost of Amelia. I don’t think it was a ghost at all.”

“I’m just saying what a lot of folks are saying. After all, the manor was sold right after she died.”

I could have argued with David, but my knowledge of ghosts was limited. Still, I didn’t see where Amelia would have a problem with Linda Downs. Amelia might not like Mr. Bluth much, but I couldn’t see why Linda Downs would be a target.

David and I blended up a wave of morning, pick-me-up smoothies. Since virtually everyone in Goodsprings had been at the party, they all needed something that would power them through the day. Coffee was one way, but the smoothies were better. I smiled as I served, and they smiled as they walked out. The town had to run despite the party and the snow. Luckily, the sun was shining, which would melt the snow and buoy attitudes.

“My lord,” Phineas said as he stood in front of me. “This nightly snow is getting tedious. I was hoping for a respite.” Chuckles popped its head from the bag and eyed me, as if it knew the snow came from the coven.

“I hear you and agree,” I said. “It is worse than tedious. It’s getting dangerous. What will you have, something filled with energy?”

“I certainly could use that, but I’ve done so well on wheatgrass, that I’m loathe to change. So, Wheatgrass, it is.”

Phineas took his smoothie and his rooster to the back of the shop. I knew both of them missed the patio. I did too. But the snow was just too much.

Four out of the next five customers mentioned Amelia’s ghost as Linda Down’s murderer. I tried my best to reason them out of that opinion, but they were convinced. If no flesh-and-blood human had entered the room, how else could the woman be killed? It made sense, in a blinkered sort of way. The fifth customer didn’t agree with the other four. The fifth claimed the murderer was a...

Vampire.

“What?” I said. “A vampire?”

“Figure it out,” the woman said. “No one shows up on the video. Why? Because vampires don’t appear in mirrors, or photos, or videos. They’re invisible. So, it had to be a vampire.”

“There are no vampires in Goodsprings,” I said. “If there were, don’t you think you’d find some bodies drained of blood?”

“I’d say he hasn’t been here long enough to leave many bodies.”

“Who?”

The woman smiled and whispered. “Mr. Bluth.”

By lunch, I had heard several discussions where people argued ghost versus vampire. People were choosing sides, and that wasn’t a good thing.



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