“Silas!” The three of us shout in unison.
Grams works on wardrobe and backstory, while I make a quick phone call to Mr. Willoughby to confirm that he has the necessary background to teach the archaeology classes while the community college searches for a replacement for Professor Klang. Was there ever any doubt? He also has an idea how to grease the wheels for my late-semester enrollment.
I reach up to pull the candle sconce lever, which activates the sliding bookcase door to my secret apartment, and smile. If anyone had grabbed this heartbroken kid as she was bouncing from one foster home to another and told her what the future would be like, she probably would’ve punched him in the nose and called him a dirty liar.
I stride across the thick Persian carpets in my beautiful apartment toward the walk-in home for a collection of vintage clothing—a place I like to call wall-to-wall Sex and the City meets Confessions of a Shopaholic—and whisper, “Progress looks good on me.”
“What’s that, dear?”
“Nothing. Wondering what you plan on forcing me to wear, and whether or not we can negotiate a heel in the two-inch range?”
Grams giggles mercilessly. “If you want access to the best gossip, you gotta have something other people want. And everybody wants designer handbags and Jimmy Choos.”
“I’m sorry I asked.”
“Nonsense. Let’s go with the blonde-to-russet ombré wig, the distressed designer jeans, with Jimmy Choo boots and this Mark Jacobs satchel. You can pretend it’s a book bag.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Her ability to affect matter at will is nonstop now. She’s grabbing clothes and shoes from their resting places, tossing them wildly onto the padded mahogany bench in the center of the walk-in closet.
I wiggle my toes into the carpet, dreading a full day in high heels. “Can’t I be the cool geeky kid who wears skinny jeans, high-tops, and ironic snarky T-shirts that say things like ‘Wanted: Dead & Alive—Schrödinger’s Cat’?”
Grams freeze frames and her image flickers like an old VHS tape.
“Grams? What is it?”
“Mizithra Achelois Moon, I did not break my promise to your father, and spend the last months of my life filling this closet for you, to have you simply toss it all aside for skinny jeans.”
“Sorry, Grams.” However, her comment gets me thinking. “I’m going to run across the alley and check on Dad. He was supposed to get back from the railroad convention in New York two days ago, but I haven’t heard from him.” I slowly back out of the closet.
“You’ll be trying all of this on as soon as you get back, sweetie.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Her tinkling laughter echoes off the tin-plated ceiling as I make a hasty retreat.
Chapter 4
The Duncan Restorative Justice Foundation is open for business and the kind young woman seated in the reception area is either guessing, based on the bone-white hair my father and I share, or she has a reference photo of me next to her computer.
I’m sure I’ve never met her before, but as I stride across the terrazzo floor, temporarily distracted by the life-size bronze of my grandfather, Cal Duncan, she calls out a greeting.
“Hello, Mitzy. Your father is in the penthouse. Would you like me to announce you?”
“Sure. Also, I forgot my passkey.”
She smiles politely, but her eyes are flecked with suspicion.
Definitely as sharp as she looks. I don’t actually have a passkey. It’s not that I asked for one and my father refused; it never occurred to me to ask.
“No problem, Miss Moon. I’ll program the elevator to take you to the penthouse floor.”
“Wow! Hi-tech. Thanks.”
I enter the marble-clad hallway and step into the plush elevator. Everything is so shiny and new, even the buttons have a posh glow.
The melodic ding of the bell precedes the door sliding open to reveal the towering figure of my father. “Mitzy! I’ve been so busy since I got back. Sorry I didn’t call.”
“No problem.”
He wraps his powerful arms around me and kisses the top of my head, as I close my eyes and grin from ear to ear. I’m still getting used to the idea of having a dad. So far, I like it.
Amaryllis walks out of the back room with her hair in a haphazard bun, wearing a thick bathrobe and fuzzy unicorn slippers. A hint of camphor and eucalyptus wafts down the hall. “Don’t come any closer. I caught a nasty cold while we were in New York and I definitely don’t want you to get it. So, I’ll say hello and goodbye from a distance and let you and your dad catch up.”
“Thanks for the warning. And I love your slippers.”
She chuckles, which causes her to launch into a coughing fit, waves goodbye and shuffles back into the bedroom.
Dad and I walk into the kitchen and he motions for me to grab a seat at the breakfast bar while he brews us some coffee.
“So things must be pretty great with you and Amaryllis if she’s comfortable being sick around you?”
Jacob’s broad shoulders shake with laughter. “Yeah, things are wonderful. She was a real trooper in New York. She loaded up on decongestants and coffee to get through our meetings, but by the time our plane touched down in Pin Cherry, she was ready to collapse. I’ve been catching up on emails and playing nursemaid for the last couple days, but she deserves it.”
He sets my coffee on the polished black granite counter and places one hand on his refrigerator door. “Cream alone, right?”
“You know me so well.”
We share a chuckle, and he nods. “I’m getting better. I remember our first lunch, when I attempted to share your french fries.”
“Rookie mistake, Duncan.”
He laughs and passes me the creamer. “So, what’s new in Pin Cherry?”
Pouring a little milky goodness into my java, I watch it swirl. “Unfortunately, Erick is sitting in a jail cell suspected of murder.”
“What? Sheriff Harper is a suspect?” My father tilts his head in disbelief.
I quickly explain the details of the situation and the unfortunate broomball fight.
Jacob’s expression turns serious. “Broomball is no joke around here. The rivalries are brutal.”
“Did you play?”
He nods and takes a deep breath. “I played intramural in college, but I preferred the speed and violence of hockey when I was a kid.”
I arch one eyebrow. “Well, good news. Broomball has significantly upped its violence quotient.”
“So what’s your angle on this case?”
“Hmmm? What makes you think I have a case?”
His head drops and lolls from side to side. “Come on, Mitzy. I may be new to this dad thing, but I know enough to be certain you’ve got a plan to clear Erick’s name.”
“All right. Ya got me. I’m going undercover as an archaeology student at the college. Silas will be the temporary replacement professor, so between the two of us, we should be able to uncover some additional suspects.”
“Sounds like a pretty good plan. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“Thanks, Dad. I will. However, I have to get back. Grams—” My eyes widen and I lower my voice to a whisper. “Does she know about Grams?” I point meaningfully to the bedroom. “And me seeing ghosts and stuff?”