Innkeeping with Murder - Tim Myers [25]
“Was that your scream, Miss Halloway?”
The young woman nodded furiously, but couldn’t say a word. Alex waited as she composed herself, taking several gulps of air. Elizabeth Halloway had come to the inn last week, but Alex had yet to share more than ten words with her. She’d exceeded the length of her planned stay by two days, and Alex was frankly grateful for the business.
He’d noticed that the slim, ethereal blonde liked to take long walks in the woods surrounding the inn and that she was a very private person. She’d even requested on her arrival that no one enter her room during her stay. Marisa had been more than happy to oblige.
When she could finally speak, Miss Halloway’s voice was cracked and full of fear. “I saw a ghost.”
Alex tried to keep his tone light. “Surely in this fog everything looks ghostly. It might have been someone going for a late stroll, or even a billowing cloud of fog. Last year I saw a unicorn myself.”
Instead of warming to Alex’s humor, Miss Halloway turned on him with a fiery scorn in her eyes. “I said I saw a ghost, and that’s exactly what I meant.”
Elise stepped closer to her, and Alex admired her calm poise. “No one’s doubting your word for a moment. Where did you see it?”
Miss Halloway pointed one long, slim finger at the lighthouse. “It was going up the steps. I saw a light flash by each window. Then, in a break in the fog, I saw a ghastly white face peering out of one of the windows. I shall never forget those haunted eyes.”
Elise said, “My goodness, you’re shivering. Why don’t we go brew a pot of hot tea while Mr. Winston checks the lighthouse.”
Miss Halloway nodded absently, her eyes still on the lighthouse as she headed for the lobby of the annex. Elise shot one backward glance at Alex as the two women walked off into the fog. He wasn’t sure what Miss Halloway had really seen, but after the murder earlier in the day it was something he would have to investigate. The killer may have returned to the scene of the crime, perhaps in search of an incriminating piece of evidence left behind. Taking a heavy flashlight and a croquet mallet from the storage shed near the lighthouse’s front steps, Alex hurried to the tower.
Sure enough, the normally locked door banged gently in the breeze. Had he locked the door after the ambulance attendants had removed Reg’s body? For the life of him, Alex couldn’t remember. For an instant, he considered calling Sheriff Armstrong to investigate the mysterious light, but Alex knew there wasn’t enough time.
Pausing at the outer door, Alex peered through the gloom of the darkened interior of the lighthouse. As he entered the lower landing, he saw that there was indeed a dim light moving above him.
Someone was up there.
Alex shut off his own flashlight, hoping that whoever was at the top of the lighthouse had failed to see it. He quickly shoved the light into his back pocket and grasped the metal handrail, still clutching the mallet with his free hand. Alex silently inched his way up the steps, always keeping his eyes on the shifting beam of light above him.
He stopped at the eighth landing, wondering if he should continue up or go back for reinforcements, when the light started down the top stairs toward him! Hugging the wall beside the steps, Alex hoped that whoever was coming down would miss him with their light.
The beam caught him squarely in the face.
“Who is that? Lower your light.” Alex’s voice rang out with more confidence than he felt.
“What are you doing stumbling around in the dark? I almost shot you.” He quickly recognized the voice as Sheriff Armstrong’s.
Alex replied, “I could ask you what you’re doing up here yourself.”
Armstrong turned his light toward the rounded wall and away from their faces. The sheriff grinned. “I had a thought to check the lens itself for evidence. If Wellington saw someone heading toward him he didn’t trust, I figured he might have