How to Survive a Killer Seance by Penny Warner Read Free Book Online Page B

wheelchair, Dad should be up and around and back at the care home soon.”
    Mother let out a breath. “I’m so relieved.” The others probably didn’t notice, but Mother’s eyes had clouded with tears. She blinked them back as she turned away.
    “Well,” Jonathan said, rubbing his hands together. “Shall we get started? The last tour ends at seven so we’ll have the place to ourselves. I’ve arranged for the manager, Mia Thiele, to give us a private tour. She’s excited about the prospect of a Séance Party here at the house.”
    We followed Jonathan as he led the way, ducking under the low roofline that must have been just right for the diminutive Sarah Winchester. At four feet ten inches tall—I remembered that only because I was taller than she was by the time I was in junior high—she could apparently maneuver the narrow hallways, staircases, and doorways with ease, while Brad, Jonathan, and I, at five ten and over, would have to watch our heads at every entrance, elevation, and turn. Mother just had to watch her bouffant hair.
    We entered the gift shop and Jonathan knocked on the door nearly invisible to shopping tourists. Without waiting for an invitation, he opened the door and led us inside. The tiny space was cluttered with a small desk and a table filled with a computer, printer, shredder, and other electronic equipment. They all seemed completely uncharacteristic for the setting. What had I expected? A butter churn and a printing press?
    An attractive fortysomething woman with wavy shoulder-length auburn hair, manicured nails, and big green eyes looked up at us from the desk and gave a lip-glossed smile.
    “Mr. Ellington, I présumé?” the woman said, rising to her feet. She was dressed in black slacks and a “Winchester Mystery House” T-shirt with the image of a skull superimposed on the outline of the house. She held out a hand.
    Jonathan shook it firmly. “Ms. Thiele?” Was that a glint in his eye I saw as he looked the woman over?
    “Please,” she said, smiling as she returned to her seat, her face flushed. “Call me Mia.” She tore her eyes from Jonathan and glanced at the rest of us.
    Jonathan gestured a hand toward me. “This is Presley Parker, the premiere party planner I told you about.”
    “Event planner,” I corrected, reaching for her extended hand. “Nice to meet you.”
    “And this is Presley’s charming mother, Veronica Parker, a very close friend of my father’s.”
    Mother nodded and blushed. She wasn’t much of a hand shaker.
    When it became quickly evident that Jonathan didn’t plan to introduce Brad—perhaps he’d just forgotten his name?—I said, “This is my . . . coworker Brad Matthews. He’ll be helping me with the event.” I hoped that wouldn’t be as a crime scene cleaner.
    Mia took his outstretched hand and held it—a little too long for my taste. There was an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes when she smiled at Brad, much like the one she’d given Jonathan. I made a mental note to stab her at the first opportunity.
    What an interesting party this was turning out to be, full of intrigue and mystery, with a side of possible romance. And I hadn’t even sent out the invitations yet.
    “So I understand you want to host a party here, with a séance theme—is that right?” She spoke mostly to Jonathan.
    Jonathan took the reins. “Yes. It’s my father’s idea. He thought it would be a great way for me to showcase my newest product for investors. I’d like to get a ballpark figure for renting out the place and . . .”
    My attention lagged at the financial details, and I quickly became distracted by some of the photos and news articles Mia Thiele had framed and displayed around her small office. There were enlarged but blurry black-and-white snapshots of the house from every angle, along with snapshots of the once-plentiful acreage where Sarah Winchester grew orchards of apricot and plum trees. Her property was apparently self-sustaining, and