Zoe Donovan Mystery: Haunted Hamlet Part 3

"This is wonderful," I said after taking a bite so large my mouth could barely contain the wonderful combination of flavors.

"It's got a kick, but not so much as to make it unbearably hot. I like it," Zak agreed.

"The pasta salad Ellie sent looks really good as well." I peeled off the lid and handed Zak a fork. "When she said she added some pasta salad to our bag I was picturing something heavy, but this is actually refres.h.i.+ng. So fill me in on what you found while I was out."

The previous night we had not only found the mama cat and her four newborn kittens, all of which were tucked safely away in one of our spare bedrooms, but also the body of the man we'd noticed in the costume shop on Friday evening. He was lying at the bottom of the stairs that led from the second floor to the attic. It looked as if he had simply fallen and broken his neck as he attempted to access the attic via the steep, narrow staircase. Salinger didn't suspect foul play, but I wasn't so certain.

Zak picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth before speaking. "The victim's name is Adam Davenport. He was a scholar, writer, and filmmaker. He came to Ashton Falls two weeks ago to film a doc.u.mentary about paranormal activity in this area."

I swallowed and set my sandwich down. "You're kidding. The guy was a ghost hunter?"

Except for the fact that a man was dead, which was always a tragic thing, the setup was too good to be true: a ghost hunter falls victim to the spooks he's studying right before Halloween. Talk about a perfect plot for a cheesy movie.

"I'm not sure if 'ghost hunter' is exactly the right term, but according to what I've been able to find, the man was a legit ghost researcher. He had a doctorate in consciousness studies from a major university and was widely respected in his field."

"Consciousness studies?"

"It's a field of study that focuses on moving toward an integrated understanding of human consciousness by bringing together differing fields, including philosophy, neuroscience, medicine, and the physical sciences. I know it sounds pretty out there, but there are accredited colleges that offer postgraduate work in the field."

"So why was he here? In Ashton Falls?"

"To study the Henderson house. He wrote a paper about six months ago chronicling the paranormal activity in the house and came to the area to prove or disprove the presence of paranormal beings."

"Okay, so this guy is in town to study paranormal activity in a house where weird stuff has been happening for years and mysteriously falls down the stairs. Seems like a pretty big coincidence."

"Yeah, I have to agree."

"Have you informed Salinger about the man's profession?" I asked.

"I did. He'd already discovered most of what I found on the Web."

"And does he suspect a supernatural cause for the man's death?" I wondered.

"He does not."

"But we're thinking there could be something more going on?" I fished.

"It does seem like the circ.u.mstances leading up to his death point to something more," Zak agreed.

"So you think he was killed by a poltergeist," I added.

I could tell by the skeptical look on Zak's face that of the two of us, I was the only one who believed that our suspect might just possibly be living impaired.

After lunch, Zak and I attended an emergency meeting of the events committee. Joel's haunted barn was the cornerstone of the five-day event, but Salinger had closed off access to the Henderson property, which meant we were once again without a venue for the most popular event of the Haunted Hamlet. Without it, it was doubtful that we'd be able to attract the visitors we needed to make the fund-raiser a success. Given the fact that the meeting was unplanned, only half of the committee members were able to make it on such short notice, but Zak came with me, bringing the total to seven. Normally, event committee meetings were held in the back room of Rosie's Cafe, but since today was a Sunday, Rosie's was packed. Hazel Hampton, our town librarian, was off for the day and offered her s.p.a.cious living room as a subst.i.tute.

Unlike the house I share with Zak, which is decked out with every spooky decoration imaginable, Hazel had decorated her home tastefully with fall accents depicting the season rather than the holiday. The dining table was covered with a cloth in burnt orange that was accented by a vase of yellow, orange, red, and dark purple flowers, which I suspected had been clipped from her garden. As was her custom, Hazel had set out an arrangement of yummy treats, including my favorite pumpkin cookies, to go with the coffee and fruit punch she provided.

As I mingled with the other members of the committee, waiting for the stragglers to arrive, I could sense the elevated level of tension that seemed to consist of both concern and excitement at the same time. I supposed that the others felt much as I did. While I was concerned that the annual event would be a bust if we couldn't figure out an alternative to the haunted barn, knowing that a parapsychologist had died in a house everyone suspected was haunted just days before the annual Haunted Hamlet gave an extra feeling of awesomeness to the event. Okay, I guess that sounds insensitive and morbid. I don't mean to indicate that I'm taking a casual view of death, but there's something about the holiday that makes spooky and unexplained sort of cool, and it wasn't as if I'd ever actually met Adam Davenport.

"It looks like we're all here," Hazel said, calling those of us who had wandered outside into the house.

Zak and I went back inside, where we joined Hazel, Willa Walton, Gilda Reynolds, my dad-Hank Donovan-Levi, and Joel. Ellie and Paul Iverson had to work, and Tawny Upton was home with her kids.

"I a.s.sume we all know and understand the situation presented by the events of the past twenty-four hours," Willa began. "While I am saddened by the death of the man visiting our town, I feel that as the event committee, we should address the problem at hand. The Haunted Hamlet is set to open Thursday afternoon. That gives us exactly four days to find another venue in which to hold the haunted barn."

"I've been setting up for a week," Joel informed the group. "It's too late to start over, even if we find another location."

"Maybe we should forget about the haunted barn and go in a different direction entirely," I suggested.

"A Haunted Hamlet without a haunted barn?" Hazel gasped. "The haunted barn is and always has been the cornerstone of the event."

"I realize that," I began, "but I really don't see what choice we have. We still have the zombie run, the kiddie carnival, and the spooky maze, as well as the pumpkin patch and pumpkin-carving compet.i.tion. Maybe that will be enough."

"The Haunted Hamlet is a huge revenue source for us," Willa worried. "If we can't attract folks from the valley, we might be forced to cut programs next year. We're already projecting a huge deficit. As we've discussed in previous meetings, the only way to meet the needs of emergency services will be to cut funding to the arts. If we don't have a good showing this holiday season, we might not be able to fund programs such as subsidized day care, summer youth camp, or theater at any level."

"Okay, so what can we do to replace the haunted barn that wouldn't require a lot of props or preparation?" Hazel asked.

"I've always thought that having both the haunted barn and the spooky maze was sort of redundant," I offered. "Maybe we can come up with something totally different that might even draw a slightly different crowd."

"What about a play?" Willa looked at Gilda, who ran the local theater arts program.

"Not enough time," she responded. "Although doing a play next year would be a wonderful idea."

"What about a movie?" Zak suggested.

"What kind of movie?" Hazel asked.

"I have a friend who works in Hollywood and might be able to get us the rights to show some of the old cla.s.sics like Dracula or The Blob. We could have the drama club dress up and maybe show up at key points in the film to add a sense of eeriness to the event."

"I once attended a showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show where they had people who acted out parts of the movie," Levi offered.

"We have four days," I reminded everyone.

"What about a hayride?" Gilda suggested. "I know several people who have hay wagons, and the forest provides a naturally spooky landscape. We can write a script and get a couple of my better students to narrate it as the wagons travel along a designated trail. I have other actors who can dress up like ghosts and zombies and linger about in the forest for the wagon to happen across. I've already checked the weather forecast and it's supposed to be clear."

"I can set up a few props to give a hayride a spooky feel," Joel offered. "It won't be as elaborate as the haunted barn, but it will be something."

"We won't be able to accommodate the volume we did with the haunted house," Willa pointed out.

"We won't need to. The event will be more exclusive, so we can charge more. It's worth a try, unless someone has a better idea," Gilda insisted.

No one did.

"Let's see how many wagons we can round up. Gilda, go ahead and get started organizing the narrators and the actors who'll be placed in the forest."

"I'll check with Ellie, but I'd be willing to bet she'd help organize a snack bar at the staging area if we can get enough volunteers to run it. I figure there'll be folks waiting around for the next wagon, so we might as well sell them hot cider and cupcakes," I said.

"Good idea." Willa smiled at me.

"I can get the cheerleaders from Ashton Falls High School to run the snack bar at the hayride," Levi volunteered. "We could give a percentage of the proceeds directly to their camp fund."

"That's a wonderful idea," Willa responded. "The main problem I see with the idea is that, unlike the haunted barn, which we could run all day, the forest is only spooky at night, which will give us fewer hours of operation."

"True, but we can have less spooky hayrides for little kids earlier in the day," I suggested. "Sort of like they do with the spooky maze."

"Let's see what we can pull together. If you locate a wagon that will commit, call me and I'll start a list," Willa decided.

Everyone indicated their agreement as they gathered their belongings and began to disperse.

Chapter 4.

Monday, October 20

October in Ashton Falls is a special time. Not only is the alpine village decked out in nature's grandeur as the yellow and orange of aspens paint every hillside with breathtaking color, but the downtown section of my hometown is dressed out in man-made splendor as well. As they do every year, the vendors along the main strip hang orange twinkle lights in every tree along the stretch of town that's bordered on one side by the lake and the other by the mom-and-pop shops that give my hometown its charm. Not only is every tree adorned with lights and other decorations such as handmade ghosts and rubber bats but every window is decorated as well.

While I loved all the windows along Main Street, my favorite was the miniature village Dad and Pappy set up in the window of Donovan's, the general store that has been in the family for two generations. This year Mom contributed a haunted train to the annual display that wound its way through the spooky houses, mechanical graveyard, and monster-infested swamp, so I decided to stop by and add my own piece to the magical display.

Charlie trotted over to the seating area Dad had arranged around the potbellied stove that stood in one corner of the main floor. Dad had brought all three of his dogs to work with him, so Charlie enthusiastically greeted each and every one, while Nick Benson, a retired doctor and member of the book club Pappy and I belong to, and Ethan Carlton, a retired history professor and also a book club member, focused all their energy on the game of chess they had set up on one of the tables my dad provides for just such a purpose.

"The village looks great," I commented as I kissed my dad on the cheek in greeting.

"Folks have been stopping by all week to take pictures."

"The train really does add an element of mystery," I commented. "I like the way it winds through the tunnels so that it disappears from one part of the village to reappear in another. I wanted to add my own piece to the display so I brought this."

I handed my dad a box that held a boat with a corpse sitting in it to add to the swamp.

"How did you get that fog affect over the swamp?" I asked.

"Dry ice," Dad replied.

"It's really awesome."

"Your boat goes perfectly with the rest of the scene." Dad gave me a squeeze as he placed it in the midst of the foggy landscape."

Just looking at the display gave me a feeling of warmth. Many of my most highly valued memories are of Halloween nights as a young girl, and the foggy boat scene brought up memories of summers' past as well.

"The fog over your swamp area reminds me of that summer we went camping up along the coastline of Was.h.i.+ngton State. We took the boat and spent most of our visit exploring the waterways surrounding the peninsula and the islands in the area."

Dad smiled. "And every morning a blanket of fog covered the area, making everything seem spooky and somewhat surreal," Dad offered. "I remember that trip fondly. I think it might have been one of our best."

"And spookiest," I added. "I'd just seen the original version of that movie The Fog, and every time the fog rolled in, I started to cry because I thought dead pirates were going to kill us. You had to wrap me up in a sleeping bag and hold me tight until I fell asleep."

Dad laughed. "I do remember that. It seems like there were two or three days when the fog came in early and I had to distract you with board games in the tent. I miss those summer camping trips we used to take, just the two of us."

"Maybe we can go camping next summer. Harper will be older, and I'm sure we can talk Mom into roughing it for a week. Zak loves to camp. He told me that he used to go all the time when he was a kid."

"Maybe instead of camping we can rent one of those cabins on the islands," Dad suggested. "It would be easier on Mom and Harper, but you and I and Zak can still take the boat out every morning. It's been a while since I've been fis.h.i.+ng."

"Yum, fresh salmon. My mouth is watering at the thought."

"Thought of what?" Pappy joined us from the stockroom.

"Salmon," I answered. "I didn't know you were here." I kissed his wrinkled cheek.

"I was looking for those decorations we used as a display for the counter last year."

"I seem to remember packing them away in a black rubber tub. Check the storage area where we keep the Christmas decorations."

"Thanks, I think you're right."

"I was just telling Dad how great the village looks. The whole store, in fact. I really should do more at the Zoo. I hung some ghosts and bats from the ceiling and strung some orange lights around the windows, but I don't have anything to act as a main event. We had eight new kittens dropped off over the weekend, so I was going to run an ad that should bring more than your average number of locals by. It would be fun to have an awesome display."

"Maybe you should ask Zak to do a display," Dad suggested. "He really seems to enjoy the decorating aspect of the holiday."

Suddenly, I had a vision of all of our dogs barking at mechanical monsters. Still, if I had him decorate the lobby, it would bring a cozy feel to our establishment.

"Good idea," I answered after I'd taken a moment to think about it. "I'll call him when we're done here. He's helping Gilda with the display for the haunted hayride this morning. I'm betting when all is said and done, it's going to be more popular than the haunted barn."

"Have you heard anymore about the death of the ghost hunter out at the Henderson house?" Dad asked as he returned to stocking shelves.

"Not really. The crime scene guys from Bryton Lake went through the house and scoured the forest, but they didn't find anything out of the ordinary. Salinger still thinks the guy simply slipped and fell, but Zak and I aren't so sure it's as simple as that."

"The whole thing is really odd," Dad agreed. "Are you and Zak investigating?"

"Not as of this point. At least not officially."

"A ghost hunter dying in a haunted house seems like a setup that's exactly up your alley. Seems like you'd be all over something like this."

I shrugged. "Normally, I would, but I have the Haunted Hamlet to think about, and honestly, I have no idea what I can do that Salinger hasn't. I'm keeping my eyes and ears open. Maybe something will pop. Are you and Mom taking Harper trick-or-treating this year?"

"Your mom arranged for us to go with Jeremy and Morgan. I think Jessica and Rosalie and Ava and Jasmine may be joining us as well."

Jeremy Fisher is my a.s.sistant at Zoe's Zoo, the wild and domestic animal rescue and rehabilitation shelter I run, and Morgan is his six-month-old daughter. Harper and Morgan were born at about the same time, as was the daughter of my mom's new best friend, Ava. The fact that the three babies were so close in age created a bond of sorts between the three parents, in spite of the fact that my mom was a forty-three-year-old second-time mother, Jeremy was a twenty-one-year-old single father, and Ava was a married, twenty-eight-year-old first-time mom.

Shortly after Morgan was born, Jeremy had met blond-haired, blue-eyed Jessica Anderson and her adorable five-year-old daughter Rosalie at a bunny adoption Zoe's Zoo sponsored. Although Jessica was a bit older than Jeremy, the two had hit it off and been dating for a while now.