The Ghost Writer Mystery by Anita Birt

Author:Anita Birt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: police, international, torture, protection, tea party, guard dog, ghostly memoir, the sword dance
Publisher: Anita Birt

CHAPTER NINETEEN

As soon as they left Liz put on the kettle for tea and ate the last chocolate biscuit in the packet as she waited for the water to boil.

“What do you think, Ghost?”

“I’m thinking you are brave.”

“More scared then brave, Ghost. I wish I could give the police Pierre Dumais’s name. It’d make their search for answers easier.”

“Mr. Peterson must know who he is. Or maybe not. He didn’t get the key from Miss Taylor, that’s for sure.”

“When the police track down the man in the chair we might get some answers. In the meantime I’m going to drink a mug of tea and relax. What about you, Ghost?”

“The Alepponi home is a mansion. It’s surrounded by a six feet high wrought iron fence, signed. Guard dog. Do not Enter.

“I checked inside the house. Apart from a maid and a cook there was no one home. I’ll visit Miss Taylor in the hospital and report on any visitors.”

“Ghost, I’m still worried about Mrs. Alleponi.”

“I’ll have another look inside their home. It’s really magnificent. No money spared.”

“Good night, Ghost.”

“Sleep well, Liz.”

With Ghost gone snooping Liz finished her tea and nodded off to sleep. Kim’s bark wakened her.

“Mrs. Stanley. I’m one of the forensic officers may I come in?”

“Show me your ID.” She wasn’t taking any chances.

He held it up to the small window next to the door. Satisfied he was who he said he was, she unlocked the door and waved him in.

He explained the process. “Very simple,” he said and swished inside her mouth with a piece of soft material on a stick and stowed it carefully in a glass tube.

“Thanks.” He closed the door when he left.

Too tired to read and nothing of interest on television, Liz stuck her head outside the door to see what was going on next door. Sergeant Miller and Constable Stacy were inside the cottage with the forensic team. Watching them work would be useful when she wrote her next Lady Mary Mystery.

Undecided about signing a new contract she’d asked her editor for time to consider whether she wanted to continue the series. Her fans clamored for another book. “Take a couple of weeks off, Liz. Let me know as soon as you make up your mind.”

Liz locked the door, switched off the living room lights and headed for bed. Tomorrow she’d discuss the situation in the Grother cottage with Mr. Peterson. She didn’t feel safe with the door unlocked and creepy Pierre Dumais going in and out as if he owned the place.

She slid into bed with a Reginald Hill novel to read and enjoy. Better fictional crime than what she’d been experiencing the past few days at the retirement residence. The only resident she wondered about was Gordon Jones whose state of the art key pad was similar to the one at the electronic apartment, since trashed.

Liz couldn’t keep her eyes open, put the book aside and switched off the light. Tomorrow she’d deal with Mr. Peterson.

Tomorrow.

She wakened early, made a

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