The Ghost and the Dead Deb by Alice Kimberly Page A

bookworm friend, Jack said. Pay the Bird Lady a visit, and when you get back you can let me in on what kind of pecker she’s wearing on her lapel today.
    Though offensively put, Jack’s—more specifically, Brainert’s —advice to pay Fiona a visit had merit. No scandal large or small, no bit of gossip or innuendo in this town, could slip past the predatory eyes and extremely sharp hearing of Fiona Finch, let alone under her own roof. So I was fairly sure that if something fishy was going on, Fiona had probably already swooped in on it.
    Enough. Your bird metaphors are killing me.
    “Oh, really, and I thought you were already dead.”
    Can it, kid. Go get yourself some oxygen.
    I cleared my throat and called to Sadie, “Hold the fort. I’m going over to Fiona’s inn for an hour or so.”
    Aunt Sadie surprised me by stepping out from behind the counter.
    “You’re thinking of breaking into Angel Stark’s room, aren’t you?” she said. My silence was answer enough.
    Sadie looked over her shoulder to make sure Mina was out of earshot. Then she faced me again. “You are thinking of breaking in,” she whispered.
    “It’s hardly breaking in if you convince the innkeeper to use a pass key. Anyway, it’s Fiona’s property. She can come and go as she pleases.”
    “And bring you with her? Well, dear, you’re not going without me.”
    Sadie scampered to retrieve her purse.
    “We can’t just leave Mina here without help,” I protested.
    “The place is empty,” Sadie replied. “And besides, we’re doing this to help Mina, too.”
    “ We’re doing this?”
    “You solved a murder at this store last year, Pen,” my aunt replied. “And you never even let me in on what was going on—did you think I was too old to help?”
    “I never said anything of the kind!” I cried. “I was just trying to protect you.”
    “I don’t need protection!”
    Then Sadie sighed and looked at me over the tops of her wire-rimmed glasses. “Sorry, dear . . . I don’t mean to snap . . . it’s just that things were getting pretty dull around here until you and Spencer came back into my life. I didn’t realize it right off . . . but I kinda like all the excitement.”
    “It’s okay, Aunt Sadie. I understand. But I honestly hope things don’t get too exciting—and by the time we reach Fiona’s inn, we find Johnny and Angel are back.”
    I called to Mina, who was restocking the stacks at the rear of the store. “Mina, we need you up front. Sadie and I have to go out for an hour or so.”
     
     
    WHEN WE STEPPED into the bright sunshine, I spied one of the three Quindicott Police squad cars parked on the other side of Cranberry Street. Standing next to the vehicle, looking tall and more handsome than usual in his dark blue uniform and mirrored sunglasses, was Officer Edward Franzetti.
    “What do you know? Sometimes there is a cop around when you need one,” I said.
    Aunt Sadie touched my arm. “Bud specifically asked us not to contact the police—not yet, anyway. It’s not our place to interfere.”
    “I’m not going to contact the police . . . not officially. I’m just going to have a talk with my old friend Eddie. And if something about a missing person gets mentioned . . .”
    My voice trailed off. Inside my head, I could hear Jack’s voice, but faintly. When I let go of the door I felt him fade away completely—his spirit imprisoned inside of the brick and mortar building that housed our bookstore.
    I caught Eddie’s attention and waved. As I hoped he would, Eddie sauntered across the street, fingers hitched in his holster belt.
    Eddie Franzetti was a longtime friend of mine, and the very best friend of my late brother Peter—who’d died drag-racing in high school. One of the sons of the man who opened Franzetti’s Pizza some time in the early 1960s, Eddie decided he wanted more than a spot in the family business. So he did a tour in the military, then returned to Quindicott and joined the police force,