small but perfect diamond set in a complex silver setting.
“That’s beautiful,” I said. “A wedding ring, you think?”
She nodded. “Must have been. I wonder whose?”
I shrugged. “No telling how long it’s been in that little wall safe. We don’t know if even Filene knew about that.”
Addie looked skeptical. “I’m starting to feel like she planned all this for us somehow. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.”
I grinned. I’d had that feeling too. “Do you ever think that there’s a chance we’ll get to the end of all this, and she’ll pop out and be like, ‘I wasn’t dead after all!’”
Addie’s smile dropped and she stared at me for a second. “Um. No. That’s a little morbid.”
“No, it would be morbid if I thought she was dead when she wasn’t. Thinking someone might not be dead when they are is the opposite of morbid.”
“So it’s less-bid.”
“Um. So are you taking over the dad jokes, then?”
She laughed and slapped my arm playfully. “Anyway, I know what you mean. It all reminds me a little of this book I read when I was a kid. The Westing Game. Did you ever read that?”
I searched my meager literary roots. “I don’t know.”
“It was about this old guy who planned a whole murder mystery around his own death.”
“Wait. If he was dead, how did he do that?”
“Exactly!” Addie sounded like this all made sense, but I guessed it did have some parallels to my idea that Filene had somehow planned all this for us.
“Okay, open the other stuff.” I pushed the envelope toward her.
“There’s newspaper in here.” She unfolded the yellowed paper and her eyes widened as she scanned whatever words it held.
“Well?” The suspense was killing me.
“There was a murder,” she breathed, and handed me the page.
I read out loud:
“Matthew Elias Tucker, local esteemed townsman, was found shot dead early Friday morning on the edge of his property at 54 Maple Lane by the local constable on his morning rounds. He is survived by his son Elias and his wife Ina.
“It is surmised that the suspected murder is one more dastardly deed in the ongoing feud between the Tucker and Tanner families. As readers surely recall, last summer saw the grisly devastation of the Arnold Tanner’s barn and livestock after he attempted to assert his ownership over the property at Maple Lane.
“With no witnesses or any real evidence, it is likely this murder will remain a mystery, but there is no doubt it will fuel the ongoing animosity between the two families.”
I finished reading and stared at Addie. “You said ghosts were people who had unfinished things or wanted revenge, right?”
“Yeah.” Addie’s expression was dark.
“So if Matthew Tucker was killed by a Tanner, right here on this property, then I could see him wanting revenge.” I still didn’t believe in ghosts, but if there was going to be one, I could see it being this guy.
“And haunting the house where he was killed,” she finished, eyes wide.
We stared at the article for a moment and then Addie pushed the other papers toward me. “What’s this?”
I unfolded the papers and spread them between us. “It’s a land deed,” I said, reading. “For plots 54, 55, and 56 in Singletree Township. To Matthew Tucker.”
She shook her head. “I don’t get it.”
I shrugged. “The mystery grows.”
“Wait, what’s the date on that?” She asked, pushing the deed at me again.
“1828.”
She stared at the paper for a long minute. Then looked up at me. “Well, if those plots are the one this house sits on, then that doesn’t make sense.”
“Why not?”
“Mom found a record of the land purchase. And it was bought by a Tanner, not a Tucker. In 1827, not 1828.”
I felt my brow wrinkle. Mysteries were not my strong suit and it was getting late. Plus, I was on my second big glass of wine. “And?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. If a Tanner bought it, why did the deed say Tucker?”
“No idea.”
“Tuckers stole it.” She said this very matter of factly. Like she believed it. I felt the knee-jerk reaction starting inside me, but pushed it down.
“I thought we’d gotten past all that feud stuff and had moved on to solving a mystery together, Addie.”
She lifted a shoulder. “If the shoe fits,” she said, but there was a comic lilt to her voice.
“It’s too late for this kind of confusion,” I said.
She glanced at her watch. “Oh, it is late. And Dan comes tomorrow?”