A Ghost to Die For by Elizabeth Eagan-Cox Read Free Book Online Page B

in the backyard, is that okay?”
    “Yes, do that. Then I’ll see you this evening, I’ll be there at about seven-thirty.”
    “It’s a date.”
    By late morning my hair appointment was over and I spent the rest of the day shopping for a few odds and ends. I grabbed a quick lunner, what Rosario calls a late lunch and early dinner rolled into one meal, and then headed back home. After spending about two hours going over all my notes about the Museum of Mystery, I felt prepared and well versed for any question or spontaneous conversation that might pop up. Then I got ready.
    The green dress I chose was a favorite. Its emerald hue not only brought out the coppery highlights of my hair but this particular shade of green enhanced my green eyes. I should never have had my hair trimmed on a day I wanted it to look perfect. It just would not mind. In total aggravation with it, I gathered it up into a French roll, and allowed some loose tendrils to spill down. It would have to do. Alex called to say he was around the corner and did not want to alarm me, as he would come in through the kitchen door. I heard his car drive in. I popped in a pair of dangling pearl earrings, spritzed a spray of Magie Noire perfume and grabbed my evening purse. As I descended the stairs, I saw Alex at the bottom landing in the foyer.
    “You are exquisite.”
    I smiled as coyly as I could manage. Gave Alex a once over and said, “Not so bad yourself.”
    “Shall we go?”
    Within twenty minutes we were parked and walking up to the museum. A young man was standing out front greeting people and allowing only the select few in. Once inside we were greeted by Greg Winslow and asked to gather in the local history room. After a few announcements the big reveal was to take place. Evidently, even though we were right on time, we were among the last to arrive. Alex introduced me to a few people, one of whom was a friend of his named Chloe Mason, a tall brunette with a short pixie hair style. Chloe had a most unusual occupation, she was a crime prevention analyst whose expertise was facial and body language, and she worked at a casino in Las Vegas. I was totally impressed with her.
    “Okay, so I have to ask, is there any chance I can pick your brain about an incident that happened to me today?” I smiled, hoping to convey that what I was asking would not be troublesome.
    Chloe laughed. “Let me guess, some guy hit on you and you want to know if he’s a criminal?”
    “Oh, no, not at all, but if that happens, you’ll be the first person to know.” We giggled at that. “Actually it’s about an elderly neighbor, really nice man, in fact Alex can vouch for my opinion. He expressed what I consider to be an odd concern for me.” I very carefully, and with as much objectivity I could manage, explained about the behavior of Otis Van Wyck.
    Chloe listened carefully to my explanation and then sa id, “If you are certain that he was scratching or rubbing his neck, right behind his ear, that is an indication of uncertainty about what is being said or heard. I’d say his concern for you being alone nagged at him. Perhaps he has misgivings about Blackthorne House. Longtime residents in a neighborhood often develop a skewed perception about historic homes and the history of particular places. The fact that he continued to watch you as you walked away and did not change his expression after you waved to him could indicate a stone face reaction. In other words, he displayed a frozen facial expression that is indicative of withholding the truth. M eaning, the truth as he believes it to be. Really, Shannon, don’t let it bother you. Obviously he is not a criminal and he and his wife are fond of you, he was expressing concern. That’s my take.”
    “Your take on what?” Alex asked. He stood beside me.
    “Oh, just girl talk. I was giving Shannon all the background information on you that I’ve dug up over the years.” Chloe grinned and then I laughed, at Alex’s