The Gallery of the Dead (Tropical Breeze Cozy Mystery Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

the stairs, so that she was standing directly over the front door. Then she patted her hands on the railing tentatively, as if she expected it to be hot. “Right here.”
    “I see. And what time was this?”
    “Oh, about two in the morning. Maybe an hour later. I didn’t look at the clock. You see, I heard a noise somewhere in the house and I thought it might be the cat.”
    “You have a cat?”
    “No. This stray cat has been hanging around the house and it looks like it wants to be friendly, and I wondered if it had gotten in somehow.”
    “And had it? Was that the noise you heard?”
    “N-no. I didn’t see it then, but I have seen it since. It’s a black cat, but I have the strangest feeling that this is a lucky cat. It has the prettiest green eyes. I’ve started putting a water bowl out by the back door for it, and you’ll think I’m silly, but I’ve actually bought some cat food – just a bag of that crunchy stuff – though I don’t put it out at night because I don’t want to attract possums and raccoons –“
    “But there was no cat, so we can forget about that for now, can’t we, Misty? Just tell me about what you did see and feel.” One needs to control of the interview gently, another point I’m going to have to ram home with Ed. I had an inspiration. “Let’s try this. Just put your hands down on the railing, right there where you’re standing. Go ahead and take hold of it. That’s right. Just put them down lightly. Now close your eyes. Pretend it’s dark in here. It’s the middle of the night. You’re sleepy. Your feet are bare and you’re wearing your nightie.”
    She giggled.
    “You were dreaming, asleep, comfortable in your bed, and then you heard a noise. What was that? You got up. Was it a cat? No, it wasn’t a cat. You don’t know how you know, but you just know. What could it be? You walk out here. Can you feel your bare feet on the carpet?” She nodded. “You walked to the railing and put your hands down on it, just like you’re doing now. And then you felt . . . .”
    I waited. She was occupying the moment, just as I had intended, reliving her experiences of that fateful night.
    I held my breath. I began to wonder if I should say something, but I’m pretty disciplined, and I gave it a good ten or fifteen seconds. When her trance only seemed to be getting deeper, I moved closer to her ear and said, in a very soft voice, “You sense something, something alive, and yet not alive, something very near. The air around you is growing cold. You shiver.” She shivered. “ Behind you! You feel a presence moving in the shadows. Suddenly it notices you, it stares at you, it wants you. You can feel its eyes on your back. Now it’s coming toward you. It’s right behind you . . . it’s reaching out to touch you –“
    She let out a blood-curdling scream, popped her eyes open, stared at me, and fainted.
    Oh, yeah. We had the real deal here. We were cooking now.

Chapter 3
     
    From the Journal of Edson Darby-Deaver
     
    Many of the citizens of Tropical Breeze have lived there all their lives. It wasn’t going to be hard to find people who knew about the suicides at the Whitby House, but that would only be gossip, which I already had. I needed facts, and there were a couple of places I could go for them where I knew I’d be getting good information.
    I walked away from The Royal Palm considering my options, but I soon realized that my mind had made itself up on its own. I was walking straight down Palmetto Street toward Bernie Horning’s house. She publishes the local paper from a back room in her house, and though she’s in her mid-eighties, she can outwit people half her age. As I walked, I glanced through my handwritten notes and organized my thoughts. A clammy breeze out pushed at me as I walked along.
    People from up north think Florida is hot and humid all year long. Not so. Tropical Breeze is in the northeastern portion of the state, and it gets cold here. Fifty, maybe