The Ghost in the Big Brass Bed Read Online Free PDF Page A

hall,” she added.
    â€œWell, I say it’s blackmail,” Chris said, as we stepped into the kitchen.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œBlackmail. Ms. Bond and Mr. Bassett have got something on Phoebe, and they’re taking her for all she’s worth. That’s why she’s selling off the furniture—so she can pay them to keep quiet.”
    I laughed. “That is the dumbest theory you’ve come up with yet. What secrets could a sweet little old lady like Phoebe have?”
    â€œMaybe she’s a drug dealer.”
    â€œYou watch too much TV,” I said.
    â€œWell, you can’t trust anyone these days.”
    I picked up a chair. “Let’s get these upstairs before Norma realizes she’s not alone.”
    We started back toward the stairway. But halfway along the hall we heard a horrible racket in the parlor. Then someone began to scream.
    We dropped the chairs.
    â€œCome on!” Chris shouted. Grabbing me by the arm, she rushed toward the parlor. Bursting through the door, we found Phoebe, Ms. Bond and Mr. Bassett standing in a half circle, staring at the windows.
    The noise was louder in here, almost unbearable.
    It took me a moment to figure out what was causing it.
    Once I did, I felt a chill crawl down my spine.

CHAPTER SIX
    Panic in the Parlor
    The shutters that covered the center window were flapping back and forth, as if outside a pair of giant hands kept yanking them open and slamming them shut.
    For a moment I thought it must be the wind. But the shutters on the other windows weren’t moving at all. Through those windows you could see that the evening was clear and still; not a hint of a breeze stirred the leaves of the big oak outside. Yet the shutters on the center window continued their wild slamming until Phoebe suddenly pressed her hands against her ears and screamed, “Stop!”
    Immediately the banging stopped. For a moment everything was silent.
    Phoebe was the first to speak. “He doesn’t want me to do it,” she moaned. “He doesn’t want me to do it!”
    â€œSkip the act, Phoebe!” snapped Carla Bond. “If you didn’t want to go through with the deal, you didn’t have to set up this show. A simple no would have been sufficient.”
    I expected Mr. Bassett to defend Phoebe. But before he could speak, Norma came running into the room.
    â€œWhat’s going on down here?” she demanded. Without waiting for anyone to answer, she took in the scene, the looks on everyone’s faces, and said, “Forget I asked that. I don’t think I want to know.”
    â€œIt’s all right, Norma,” Phoebe said softly. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”
    This sentence seemed to worry Norma enormously. “I changed my mind again,” she said. “Tell me what’s going on.”
    â€œWe were working on a contract,” Mr. Bassett explained, his brown eyes wide, his voice husky. “Phoebe was about to sign it. But when she picked up the pen, the shutters began to slam back and forth.” He swallowed, his eyes opening even wider as he remembered the scene. “They just began to slam,” he repeated. “Back and forth, back and …”
    His voice trailed off.
    â€œI knew I shouldn’t do this.” Phoebe moaned.
    â€œDo what?” Norma asked.
    â€œIt’s a private deal,” said Carla Bond, who seemed calmer now. “And nobody is forcing her. I’m disappointed in you, Phoebe. I’m going to go now. If you change your mind and want to do this without the dramatics, let me know.”
    Looking very upset, she turned and left the room. The odor of peaches lingered behind her.
    â€œDoes she really think I set this up?” asked Phoebe, still staring at the window.
    â€œI don’t know what she thinks,” said Mr. Bassett. “I don’t know what I think, Phoebe. It’s not that I don’t trust you. But this kind of