Ghost Mortem (Ghost Detective #1) - Jane Hinchey Page 0,62

her house, no doubt to polish her silverware. Or pearls. Or whatever it was she did with her time when she wasn't busy spying on her neighbors.

I continued to rake the lawn, despite it being entirely unnecessary, while I pondered the riddle of Brett Baxter. Given Mrs. Hill's reaction when I mentioned him, maybe she hadn't pressured Ben to take his case after all. I'd have to wait for Ben to return from visiting with his dad before I could discuss it with him. Not that he remembered the details, but simply talking it over out loud would give me some insight. Which reminded me. Had Thor turned up yet? I'd just returned the rake and was preparing to put my Chrysler in the garage when Mrs. Hill's front door opened and she stepped outside.

"Audrey, dear," she called with a little wave. I stopped on the driveway and watched as she hurried across the lawn. "I've considered what you said and I may possibly have been too hasty. Perhaps you'd like to come in for a cup of tea and I'll tell you what you want to know?" I blinked in shock. Mrs. Hill being nice and inviting me in for tea?

"Ummm. Okay, yes. Sure," I stuttered, totally thrown. Wiping my palms on the seat of my jeans, I followed her across to her front door.

"Take your shoes off, dear."

"My shoes?"

"Yes, dear. We don't want you leaving a scuff mark, do we? She looked pointedly at my feet and I sighed, toeing off my shoes to leave them on the doormat. She tsked dramatically, bent and lined them up with perfect precision. "You know I found the best way not to leave scuff marks is to only wear leather." I glanced at my ten-dollar canvas shoes. Definitely not leather.

"Tea?" She smiled sweetly and beckoned me to follow her to the kitchen. Her house was everything I'd expected. It smelt like lavender and beeswax. Doilies abounded, and vases with flowers adorned every room. A scrambling scratching noise on the floorboards heralded Percy's arrival. The rotund pug waggled his way down the hallway with great excitement, sniffing and snuffling around my ankles, licking the top of my foot and making me giggle.

"Hey there, Percy," I greeted him, ruffling the top of his head.

"Percival," Mrs. Hill corrected.

"Sure." I shrugged. I didn't mention that Percy's claws were probably scuffing her floors more than my shoes ever could have. I followed her into her kitchen. Her house had a vastly different layout to Ben's. Where his was an open plan with big comfy sofas and an overall casual style, hers was a cottage, with a very feminine vibe. Florals and lace was the theme throughout, and rather than open-plan she had a separate living room, dining room, and kitchen. Floral curtains hung from the window and the countertops were adorned with a collection of miniature figurines—mostly pugs. I stood awkwardly while she put a whistling tea kettle to boil on the stovetop and lifted down a royal blue teapot.

"Why don't you make yourself comfortable in the dining room, dear, rather than hovering over me, hmmm?"

I nodded and brushed past her. Her kitchen was galley style, with a door either end. The dining room was dominated by an oval table with a lace tablecloth and a huge vase of flowers in the center. The windows overlooked her back garden, although you couldn't see much due to the heavy lace curtain obscuring the view. Taking a seat, I fiddled with the tablecloth, wondering what had made her change her mind and invite me in for tea. It was so out of character for her. Although to be fair, I didn't really know her, just that when we first met she didn't seem to like or approve of me and we'd continued to butt heads ever since. Maybe because we were going to be neighbors she'd had a change of heart. And maybe I should take a leaf out of her book and make an effort.

"Sugar cookie?" she called from the kitchen. "I baked them myself."

"Oh. Errr. Sure." Okay, this was weird. I felt like I was in an alternate universe. My toes curled against the rug on the floor and I glanced around, a sense of unease settling over me. I wished Ben were here to lend moral support. An old fashioned wind-up clock sat on the dark wood dresser pushed up against the wall, its ticking the only other sound aside from Mrs. Hill bustling around