"Who’s Ivan?" Abby said.

  "Her brother. Her younger brother. They were almost two decades apart, but they were like two peas in a pod despite the age difference. Sadly, in my opinion, both were chemically impaired from an addiction to alcohol and gosh knows what else. Somehow Ivan still managed to be an insightful amateur geologist, astronomer and historian until he gave it all up and went to wander the world."

  At the top of the staircase, they reached the corridor which separated the second story into two wings.

  Brenda nodded to the right. "That was her brother's side."

  Abby realized that was why the windows on the right side of the second story were shuttered.

  Brenda gestured at a bronze bust on a pedestal. "That's him. That's Ivan."

  Wavy hair, remarkably depicted in bronze, was his most appealing feature. His squinty eyes, sunken cheeks and thin lips gave him a morose expression. "Ravenna said she sculpted that shortly before he passed away. She did have a talent for it but she gave it up. That was the last sculpture she did."

  Brenda wiggled a finger at a painting on the wall. "Oh, and that's him too."

  Abby stared at a much younger man in the painting. "You'd never know it. Except for the wavy hair, it's like two different people."

  In the painting, Ivan Ramstead was in his twenties and had bright, curious eyes and a wide grin depicting a sunnier demeanor.

  Lulu sighed. "I guess, wherever he wandered in the world, it took a terrible toll."

  On Ravenna's side of the second story, there were more paintings of the family, and quite a few of a younger Ravenna.

  Lulu noticed an alcove with a set of narrow stairs leading up to the third story. "Your room's up there, Brenda?"

  "Yes. Most of the third story is attic space, except for my room. There's a hallway that leads to the balcony over the front of the house, and my room is down the hallway on the opposite side. I do have a window that looks out over the back acreage, otherwise it would be like a hole or a box. I used to stand at the window and look out at the stars almost every night."

  Brenda's room was neat and tidy with dark wood floors and a casement window on the back wall.

  A single bed, with a staid brown and beige quilt, stood against one wall.

  A short squat dresser occupied the other wall. Books sat on the top along with a decorative red and green Christmas tin.

  Brenda darted to the window and cranked it open to allow fresh air into the overly-perfumed space. "I like to burn candles and incense," she said apologetically.

  Abby could understand why. The musty odor of the old house needed to be camouflaged. It was especially strong and dank up here in the attic. This is awful. Why didn't Ravenna give her a nice room on the second floor instead of up here? All those empty rooms and the girl has to stay up here?

  From a shallow closet, Brenda withdrew three brown wheelie bags with plastic daises tied to the handles.

  Within a few minutes, they'd packed her clothes and personal items. From the fuss she made Abby could tell her most valued objects were the paranormal romance and fantasy novels she kept under the bed and the red and green Christmas tin.

  While Brenda packed the smaller bag with her books, Abby picked up the two larger ones. "I'll take these down to the car."

  As she strolled down the hallway with a bag in each hand, she eyed the paintings on the walls. She counted four of Ravenna at various ages, usually dressed in extravagant gowns with lots of chunky jewelry, including a tiara. Several other paintings depicted an older man or woman either separately or together. Parents, Abby guessed.

  She glanced at the painting of young Ivan. "I wonder what happened to you?" she mused.

  Gripping the bags, she made it down the wide staircase and as she reached the last step, a gust of wind blew open the unlocked front door. A raven with glistening black feathers flew inside.

  At one time, she would have thought it was a crow, but Lulu had taught her a significant difference in the two black birds. The raven was larger with a bass-like "kronk" call, unlike the higher-pitched "caw" of the crow.

  Lulu called the crows 'sneaky scrappers' but considered the ravens to be smart and noble.

  Abby had to agree, since the birds often accompanied her now when she practiced broomsticking.

  Although Bubsy had given her tips, the ravens were her actual companions in the night sky as she learned to accurately judge air currents, dodge various kinds of turbulence and avoid the drift of chem trails.

  Celtic tradition considered the raven an omen of death, but Abby preferred the Native American view of the bird as a wise friend. She had both in her lineage. Celtic on her mother's side and Native American on her father's since his great-grandmother was Seneca.

  "You better get out of here, my wise friend," she said to the bird, dropping the bags so she could wave her arms. "Shoo, shoo. If the Celtics are right and you are an omen of death, you're too late," she said. "That happened days ago."

  The raven flew over her head and glided around the room, issuing its signature, "kronk, kronk" call.

  A sudden movement in the room startled her. It was the rat she'd seen earlier eating the cake crumbs. It skittered to the recliner chair and jumped into the seat.

  The rat eyed the circling bird, then shot a look at Abby. With a squeal, it revealed sharp yellowing teeth and stood up on its black furry legs with a puffed out chest as if ready to battle both Abby and the raven to claim the chair and the manor as its own.

  At first, she expected the raven to dive bomb the rat, but instead it glided pass and flew out the front door, leaving her alone with the rodent.

  The rat suddenly jumped from the recliner, skittered across the floor and jumped on the couch to bury its head in between the seat cushions.

  The rat's sharp teeth plucked out a reddish object that had fallen or been stuffed between the cushions. It swung the object back and forth before dropping it on the cushion. Abby stared at the creature as it jumped off the couch and raced back to Ravenna's recliner.

  Instead of hiding, the rat curled up to sleep and seemed to glow a ghostly white before it vanished.

  Abby gasped. Had she just seen a ghost? She was the only one of them to see the rat when they entered the house. Is that why? She shuddered with a bizarre thought. Was the rat the ghost of Ravenna? Is that why it was clinging to Ravenna's favorite chair?

  Stumbling over the bags she'd dropped, Abby hurried to the couch and picked up the reddish object. It was the size of a paperback book, except thinner.

  A diary. Whose? She turned to the first page and saw Brenda's name. Should I take a peek? Or give it to Brenda?

  Take a peek won.

  She sat down and read the first page entitled: "affirmations." I am starting this new year with a better outlook. I will double-down on my affirmations. I will be more open. I will smile and be sociable with others. I will like myself.

  Suddenly a deep voice bellowed in the silent room. "Who's in here?"

  Heavy footfalls sounded on the stone steps outside and suddenly a man with a full head of blonde hair and wearing a classic tweed suit burst into the foyer.

  Abby stared at Gilbert Inglewood.

  He stared back, snapped at her. "What are you doing here?"

  "Me? What are you doing here?" she snapped back while her left hand slyly slipped the diary back between the cushions.

  Then another sound. The clicking of high heels on the stone steps announced the arrival of some else. From the chill prickling up her spine, she guessed who it was.

  Gilbert's head swiveled toward the strikingly attractive woman who had just stepped into the foyer. No one in Moon Water knew anything about the onyx-haired beauty, except for her name, Camille.

  Abby had seen her with Gilbert Inglewood back in October. From their body language, as well as the town's ever vigilant grapevine, she'd assumed they were in the midst of a passionate affair.

  But then, Camille had disappeared. A new assumption had taken root: Camille ditched the handsome, yet slightly dense real estate attorney. For the past few weeks, his peevish mood had seemed to confirm the assumption.

  Apparently, however, they were back on again. Gilbert lashed out at Abby. "You have no right to be in here."

  "I can say the same thing for you," she countered.

  Camille squared her shoulders back and lifted her breasts. "Do tell her, Gilbert."

  Her soft, mellifluous voice might have fooled some, but Abby sensed a brittle core in the beautiful Camille.

  Gilbert's hand gestured, as if he was presenting royalty. "Let me introduce you to the new owner of Ramstead Manor.

  Into the pin-drop silence came another voice from high atop the mahogany staircase. "The new owner?"

  Lulu's tiny feet shuffled down the stairs. Brenda, gripping the smallest wheelie bag, followed closely behind her.

  Gilbert didn't hide his contempt. "That's right, Lulu Dupree."

  He turned to Camille with devotion sparkling in his eyes. "Camille Capra is Ravenna Ramstead's niece and, I'm delighted to let the world know, her sole heir."

  In the silence came a faint voice. Brenda's. "Hello, Ms. Capra."

  Lulu turned. "You know her?"

  "I do," Brenda said. "We met in October."

  "A lovely day in October," purred Camille, nodding at Brenda who, in return, beamed like a mirror reflecting the sun. "We met when I came to see my father's sister."

  "You're Ivan's daughter?" Lulu gaped at Camille.

  A twitch of triumph emerged as Camille eyed Lulu then Abby and Brenda. "It seems I am."

  Gilbert motioned to the suitcase in Brenda's hand. "I see you came to get your things, Brenda. Are you finished?"

  "Yes, sir, almost. I have a few books down here and that's my shawl on the couch."

  Her head swiveled to Lulu. "And my coat. Lulu, would you please grab my coat from the stand behind you? It's the brown one with the white collar."

  She hefted the suitcase in her hand and gave Abby a pleading look. "Would you mind, Abby, taking this and the other suitcases to your car while I find my other books?"

  "Glad to," Abby said, although she didn't really want to leave Lulu and Brenda alone with Gilbert and Camille. The couple made her uneasy. She couldn't nail it, but there was something not quite right with those two.

  Positioning the smaller bag onto the larger ones, she managed to wheel all three out of the front door and carried them to her car.

  Once she'd lodged them into the trunk, she returned to the living room to find Brenda with the multicolored shawl wrapped around her shoulders, looking through a pile of paperbacks.

  Lulu had a wastebasket in hand and was dumping cake crumbs and empty bottles into it while Camille and Gilbert stood watching.

  Abby made her way to the couch, intending to find the diary she'd slipped back between the cushion and give it to Brenda. Except there was nothing in between the cushions now. The diary was gone.

  Brenda, with a stack of books in her arms, said, "Well, I guess this is everything."

  With a rude wave of his hand toward the door, Gilbert said, "It was a delight to see the three of you. Goodbye, ladies."

  Lulu, with angry shoulders up to her ears, swept past Gilbert and Camille. Brenda dawdled a few steps behind her and gave Camille a smile as she walked out the door. Abby was last. As she passed by Camille, she heard the woman mutter something.

  Her head swiveled and her eyes met Camille's. "What did you say?"

  Camille's dark eyes turned sly. "What did I say? I believe I said goodbye." Her lips twitched. "Isn't that right, Gilbert?"

  "You're always right, Camille, always."

  Abby inwardly gagged. What a sap,

  She wanted to get away as quickly as possible but she made herself slow down. You're not going to rush out of here because of those two jerks.

  Once she stepped over the threshold, she heard Gilbert's footfalls right behind her and felt the vibration as the massive oak door slammed shut.

  Chapter Seven

  On the trip back to Honeyberry Woods, doubt seeped into Abby's mind. Had she heard Camille correctly or was it her imagination?

  "This Camille person, I don't know about her," said Lulu, interrupting her thoughts. "I swear Ravenna never ever mentioned having a niece."

  With a glance to the backseat Lulu continued, "Brenda, you said Gilbert brought her to the manor in October."

  "Yes, ma'am. Mr. Inglewood introduced her as the daughter of Ravenna's brother, Ivan."

  "And how exactly did Gilbert know that?" Lulu said.

  Brenda's thin shoulders hiked up in a shrug. "I don't know, Lulu. That's what he told Ravenna and me."

  Lulu shook her head. "It doesn't make any sense. The Ravenna I knew would have sent her packing unless there was absolute inconvertible proof she was her niece. She would've required DNA proof. It just doesn't add up. Ravenna never married because she feared her suitors were after her money, and they probably were since she was never a pleasant person to be around even in her younger days. She was always worried that someone would take her money."

  Lulu asked Brenda, "Was there a DNA report? Did Gilbert say there was?"

  Brenda shrugged. "I didn't hear that."

  "Ravenna would've yelled and screamed. I can't imagine her accepting a stranger's word, a stranger just showing up out of the blue. Ravenna was no dummy."

  Brenda agreed. "That's right. She wasn't dumb or gullible. She was shocked at first. She shouted and cursed and told them to leave. Camille, I mean, Ms. Capra, she ignored Ravenna threatening to call the cops and just stood there quietly until Ravenna couldn't shout anymore. It didn't bother Camille at all. Then, she reached into this tote bag and pulled out this elegant gold gift bag with a silver bow.

  "Ravenna wouldn't take it, so Camille tugged on the bow and it slipped apart. She reached inside and brought out a bottle of whisky with a funny name. Ar-Archambolt."

  "Archambault?" Lulu whistled. "That's close to a thousand a pop."

  "Camille said it was her father's favorite. Ravenna was absolutely shocked and then I saw tears in her eyes when she finally spoke and said it was true. It was her brother's favorite and hers, too."

  "What happened then?" asked Abby.

  "Camille handed her the bottle. Ravenna took it and hugged it to her chest, and then she told me to get some glasses. I got them from the bar, and I heard Camille insist on me joining them for a drink."

  Abby glanced into the rearview mirror to glimpse at Brenda. "Did you?"

  "I did. Normally, I never drink hard liquor but it tasted good, better than anything I had ever experienced before. I felt a little giddy from just that one sip. I said to Camille that I imagined it was how bees feel when they first get a taste of nectar.

  "She laughed and complimented me. Then the three of them agreed to talk, and that's when Ravenna sent me to my room."

  "You didn't hear anything they said?"

  "No. I stayed upstairs reading for a long time until I heard a knock on my door. It was Camille with a pretty green and red Christmas tin filled with fig cookies. She said they were her favorites, and she was certain I would love them, too. Then we talked a little while—"

  "About what?" asked Abby.

  "Oh, nothing important." Brenda swiped at her bangs. "The weather. How cold it could get in the manor. I told her the heating system needed repair. Things like that."

  Abby noticed Brenda swiping at her bangs again. Why is she so nervous? Fidgety behavior could be a sign of lying. She'd read that tidbit on the website of a former cop, turned crime novelist.

  Brenda kept fiddling with her hair as she related what happened next. "Anyway, Camille went back downstairs, and after a while, I'm not sure how long, I heard Ravenna shouting for me to come down. I did, and that's when I saw they were gone. Ravenna was in a great mood and told me she was overjoyed to find out she had a niece."

  Lulu said, "Sounds like Camille convinced her it was true."

  Brenda shrugged. "I guess so. Maybe it was the whisky. It being her brother's favorite."

  Lulu grunted. "The nerve of some people. You don't give liquor to an alcoholic."

  Brenda grew defensive. "I don't think Camille knew Ravenna had a drinking problem. If she did, she wouldn't have sent the other bottle."

  "What other bottle?" Abby sat up straighter. "She sent another bottle of whisky?"

  "For Halloween. The box was addressed to me and it included another tin of the fig cookies she brought the first time she was at the manor."

  "What happened to the Archambault?" asked Lulu.

  "I don't know. I put the bottle next to the candelabra for the party but Ravenna told me to take it away. She didn't want to share it with those people. That's what she called them. Those people. I hid it in the Chinese chest."

  A soft "hmm" whispered like a sigh from Abby, her curiosity rubbing hard against the part of her that told her to leave it alone. She'd opened the Chinese chest to get the key and there was no bottle in there. Was Brenda lying?

  Chapter Eight

  Abby popped the Volvo's trunk. Lulu reached in for the smaller suitcase, leaving the other two for Brenda and Abby. “Can I tempt you with a decaf latte, Buttercup?"

  After a peek at her watch, Abby shook her head. Jill had joined the high school's equestrian club when they moved to Moon Water and, as a newbie, she was assigned to a participating ranch where she had to clean out stalls at least twice a week. However, the program had been temporarily halted and wouldn't resume until March, depending on the weather. That meant Jill would be home shortly and starving. She was one of those lucky body types who could eat non-stop and still not gain an ounce.

  Abby had been the same way as a teenager and through her twenties. The thirties, nope. It was a whole different story now. "I promised Jill spaghetti. I like to let the sauce simmer for as long as possible."

 

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