Alice Kimberley - The Ghost and the Femme Fatale

"What's she doing here so early?" Aunt Sadie asked. "Her book signing isn't scheduled until noon."

"She's probably worried about that overnight shipment of her new book arriving from the publisher. Remember? The first shipment never got here." I grabbed the key from behind the counter and hurried to open the door.

"Good morning, Mrs. McClure. Ready for another big day?"

Once again, Dr. Lilly looked very West Coast in a sunshine yellow ankle-length cotton dress and leather sandals. Her tanned complexion contrasted attractively with her straight, dark blonde hair. Despite the early hour, she was brimming with energy as she entered the store. Laugh lines deepened around her eyes when she greeted my aunt.

"Sadie and I were just about to set up while we waited for the delivery of your books," I told her, closing and locking the door again.

"Good," said Dr. Lilly. "I just know your shop's going to get a big crowd today. I wanted to bring you both coffee and pastry, but the line at your town's wonderful bakery is running halfway down the block!"

"Uh-oh," I murmured, glancing at my aunt. "I hope Linda Cooper remembers the order I placed." I'd requested four dozen of their lighter-than-air doughnuts and two giant thermal containers of coffee to be ready by nine this morning. "I'd better get over there and pick them up."

Dr. Lilly slipped the suede purse off her shoulder and set it down on the counter. "Go," she commanded. "Your aunt Sadie and I can get the event room set up."

"Thank you so much, Dr. Lilly-"

"Please, it's Irene."

"I'll be back with coffee and donuts in no time," I promised, snatching up my keys and purse.

I SHOULD HAVE known this day would be a disaster when I turned the ignition key on my battered Saturn and nothing happened.

"Not now," I groaned. "How am I ever going to get everything back to the store without a car?"

I can't help you solve every mystery, doll, Jack replied. "It was a rhetorical question," I pointed out. "Beside which, you don't have a body, so how could you help?" Low blow, baby.

"Sorry. I'm not mad at you, it's just-"

It's just that sometimes a dame needs a real man around the house, not just some spook. Well, open your peepers or you'll miss your pal, Charlie Big Suds-

"Huh?"

Jack the Biscuit. The pie-eater who featherbeds for the mail service-

" Seymour!" I cried out the window.

Seymour turned on the sidewalk and waved. Then he slung his mailbag over one shoulder and sauntered up to my window. "Car trouble, Pen?" he asked. I nodded.

"It's probably a lost cause, but if you unlock the hood, I'll be glad to take a look."

I popped the hood and Seymour lifted it. He tinkered around for about a minute and told me to turn the key again. I did, and we both heard the sound of silence.

Seymour closed the hood. "It's your battery."

"What's wrong with it?"

"You're kidding, right? The thing's deader than a Kennedy. When I roll out my ice cream truck later, I'll give you a jump and you should be good to go."

When Seymour wasn't delivering mail, he was moonlighting as an ice-cream truck vendor. That was all well and good: "But I need a car now-this minute!" I told him. "I have to bring a bunch of goodies from Cooper's back to the store."

Seymour eyes brightened. "You're heading to the home of the melt-in-your-mouth bear claw? Treat me and I'll help you out."

"It's a deal!"

I opened the trunk so Seymour could stash his mail. Then we set off down Cranberry Street toward the busy bakery. All along the main street, the faux antique Victorian streetlamps were festooned with posters advertising the movie festival's films. Many featured the voluptuous form of the young Hedda Geist, star of Wrong Turn, Man Trap, Bad to the Bone, Cruel and Unusual, and Tight Spot.

"Did you go to the lawn party at the Finch Inn last night?" I asked Seymour.

"You bet," he replied. "I never miss a chance to goad Fiona Finch. Did you see the way she and Barney renovated that miniature storm tower she calls a lighthouse? I told her I liked it better when it was painted Day-Glo orange and covered with graffiti-"

"Oh, come on. I haven't seen it yet, but it can't be that bad. And who needs graffiti? It's just an eyesore."

"Hey, you can learn a lot from reading that stuff. Archaeologists search for Roman graffiti just to get a feel for what the common people were thinking."

"But that's history-"

"Yeah, and I learned the romantic history of Quindicott High School from that old tower, before Fiona defaced it. By the way, do you happen to know anything about a girl named Brenda? She'd probably be in her midtwenties by now, and-" Seymour stopped in his tracks. His slightly bulging eyes bulged a little wider.

I followed his gaze to the front of Mr. Koh's grocery store, where a beautiful young blonde was selecting fresh fruit from the store's wooden bins. I recognized her immediately.

"That girl," I whispered, "she was with Hedda Geist last night. Do you know who she is?"

"Her name's Harmony Middleton," Seymour informed me. "She's Hedda's granddaughter."

The girl wore a hot pink tank top over white, very short shorts, and a young man in jeans and a rock band T-shirt was obviously flirting with her. I recognized the shaggy dark hair and the shamrock forearm tattoo. It was Dixon Gallagher, one of Bud Napp's part-time employees at the hardware store, and I wondered if Bud had used him on the final fix-it work he'd done for Brainert's theater.

A roaring engine suddenly shattered the quiet on Cranberry. I turned to see a black-and-chrome motorcycle pulling up to the Koh's fruit stand. The rider was a big guy, wearing blue jeans and a black leather jacket. Without pulling off his ebony helmet, or lifting its tinted visor, he grabbed a drink from the outdoor refrigerator. Then he turned to observe Harmony and sauntered over to her. He finally pulled off his helmet. but I couldn't see the blond man's face. I could tell he was making some kind of joke, purposefully finding a way to join the conversation. Harmony laughed and smiled at him, pushing his beefy arm playfully while Dixon smirked and folded his own tattooed arms tightly.

Seymour shook his head. "Like moths to flame."

"Excuse me?"

"That same little scene got played at least ten times at last night's lawn party-except with different players." "What do you mean exactly?"

I'll tell you what the postman's saying, Jack piped up in my head. Harmony just might be a chippy off the old block. "Excuse me?"

She wears skirts that defy gravity. She buys underwear with loose elastic. In other words, she's a real-

"Okay, okay!" I told the ghost. "I get it!"

"That girl not only resembles her granny," Seymour said, "she attracts male admirers the way Hedda did back in the day. And let me tell you, the wolf pack was circling Harmony for hours-much to Hedda's chagrin."

"Oh, really? Hedda didn't like it?"

"As soon as Harmony started flirting with the young men at the party, Hedda had some trivial reason to call the girl over and order her around. It seemed pretty obvious she didn't like sharing the spotlight."

Seymour struck a diva pose and assumed a falsetto. "Get me another punch, dear! I don't care for this ballpoint they gave me; find me the one I brought to sign autographs! I need my wrap from the car!"

Seymour lowered his voice. "I'll give the girl this: She never back-talked her grandmother. Just scampered around and did the woman's bidding. Me? I would have told the old bag to go jump in the duck pond."

"Maybe Harmony simply respects and admires her grand-mother. And Hedda's probably used to speaking to Harmony like a child-"

"More like an employee," Seymour said. "Which would be more accurate, because Brainert told me that Harmony isn't just a relative, she works full-time as Hedda's assistant. And, boy, does Hedda work it!"