Pieces of Hate (A Wendover House Mystery Book 4) by Melanie Jackson

said. “I kind of hope the ghosts, or monsters, or whatever this thing is got
him in the end.”
    “It was said that either he died by accident, or that he killed
himself.” Harris got out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. “He did not die
peacefully in his bed.”
    “So, chalk one up for the other team. Or maybe three, if they scared
Mrs. Tudor to death and lured the drunken treasure hunter out to sea.”
    Harris hesitated.
    “What?”
    “There were probably more deaths through the years. It is said that
deaths come in threes whenever the box appears and it seems to have come every
decade or so. At least during Kelvin’s life.”
    That was a lot of deaths. Thirty every century. Somehow, this had to end. Hopefully returning this last coin would do the
trick.
    “Ben doesn’t know that part of the story,” I said. “I’d prefer to keep
it that way.”
    “I agree. There is no way that the family could be held legally liable
but the whole thing would attract the sensational press if he were to mention
it in one of his books.”
    Leave it to Harris to worry about that aspect of things ahead of
anything else.
    “I know,” I said soothingly. “That’s why I wouldn’t let Ben’s museum
friend call in specialists to examine the box and the coins. The matter must be
contained.”
    We reached the foot of the stairs. Since Harris didn’t put his hat
back on immediately I suggested he stay for lunch. I didn’t have much I could
prepare on short notice, but he liked baked beans on toast and that I could
manage.
    As I prepared our meal, augmenting the beans with a tablespoon of
marmalade and the remainder of a very old tin of curry powder, Harris read
through the papers I had found. He rearranged them slightly, perhaps giving
them more coherence, though obviously not improving the grim tale because he
cycled through expressions of amazement, fear, and disgust as he read.
    “Kelvin didn’t tell me about this. If he knew and I am inclined to
believe he did. This is simply.…”
    “Yes.” I set our plates on the table. “As I said before, I hope the whatever the hell it is out there got him. He
deserved it.”
    Harris tutted at my bloodthirstiness but
didn’t contradict me.
    “It comes from marrying men from away ,”
he said fussily. “They almost always have bad blood.”
    I wondered if he was thinking of Jack.
    “Some of the local blood isn’t so great either.”
    That reminded me that I still hadn’t answered Jack’s email. I would
need to do that before he climbed on a plane and flew out to see what kind of
trouble I was in. Jack had done that before, bless him.
    “So, you plan to return the box on Friday evening?” Harris asked.
    “At the full of the moon. Nicholas
mentions it as important so….” Kelvin jumped in my lap and fixed me with his
unblinking stare. “The full moon is good? You approve?” I asked the cat,
forgetting Harris was there and rather nervous about the cat.
    Kelvin lay down in my lap and began to wash his paws.
    “Yes, Friday night is a go,” I said, looking up and finding Harris
staring at me with something close to consternation. He can accept everything
about the family except that we have always had cats. That
look exactly like Kelvin. In fact, I think Harris believes that all the
cats are Kelvin. “ It’s okay, Harris. I talk to the cat, but he doesn’t talk back. He isn’t a demon or
anything.” Though he wasn’t just a cat either. I
didn’t try to fool myself about that.
    Barney sighed and dropped his head onto my feet, no doubt wishing that
he, too, could sit in my lap.
    “I talk to the dog, too, you know. He doesn’t answer either. It’s just
the habit of someone who lives alone.” I broke off some crust and passed it to
Barney. I know, I shouldn’t feed him from the table, but usually it’s just us
and Barney really likes toast.
    Harris picked up a fork and began eating. I didn’t think that I had
convinced him of my cat’s innocence.