The Chesapeake Diaries Series by Mariah Stewart

she walked back into the dining room and asked, “Do you suppose there’s a fireplace behind that wall where the mantel is?”
    “I’d certainly look into that.” He followed her into the room. “It sure does look like it might have been aworking fireplace. Let’s take a look outside, see where the chimney is.”
    He went out the front door, and Vanessa followed him.
    “Yes, see? There’s your chimney.” He pointed to the side of the house where the chimney rose past the roof. “You could look into opening that up. I’d call Stan Westcott and have him take a look.”
    Vanessa had nodded and gone back inside to take another walk from room to room, her head spinning.
    “Why did you say the house had been on the market for so long?” Before she arrived, Hal had primed her to focus on anything negative as a bargaining chip. The only negative she could think of was maybe there was a problem with the deed, or the structure, something that wasn’t readily visible, because to her eye, the place was perfect.
    “I started to tell you about the previous owner. Alice Ridgeway was a little … eccentric. She never left her house except to water her plants, maybe toss some fish food into that pond, putter around in her backyard. Never came out the front, had one of the neighbor boys mow the lawn. Of course, the pond is dry now, but at one time, she had an impressive number of koi out there.”
    “But what does that have to do with the house not selling?”
    Ham cleared his throat. “There are some who think Miss Ridgeway never did leave.”
    The silence hung in the air between them for a very long moment.
    “Oh.” Vanessa paused. “You mean, she might still be here?”
    “In spirit only.”
    “I see.” Vanessa wandered from room to room and tried to decide if she felt something otherworldly accompanying her. “Has anyone actually seen her?”
    “A few of the neighbors claim to have, but who knows?” He shrugged. “Maybe we see what we want to see.”
    Vanessa thought that he might be sorry to have brought it up. Still, there was that full-disclosure thing.
    “What was she like?” Vanessa asked. “When she was alive, that is.”
    “She was … well, as I said, a bit eccentric. Kept to herself, always did, as I recall. She read a great deal, I remember that about her. My sister worked for the library many years ago, and would bring books to her and pick them up when she was finished with them and take them back. Brought her a new stack twice a week.”
    “I’m not seeing where she was so eccentric. Lots of people don’t like to leave their homes.” Vanessa defended the home’s departed—or not—owner.
    “True enough. But to the best of my knowledge, Miss Ridgeway was the only true agoraphobic in St. Dennis.”
    “Well, then, that gave her some distinction, didn’t it?” She gazed out the kitchen window. “I wonder what she had planted in those beds.”
    “Well, she did have a big herb garden, and they say she liked those bug-catching plants.”
    “What?” Vanessa turned to face him.
    “Venus flytraps, that sort of thing.” He hastened to add, “But I hear she liked mint, too. Had several varieties.And as I said, she had her herbs. Those who know say she had bunches hung over the doors and some of the windows. I noticed there’s some still around, here and there.”
    “Her version of room freshener, I suppose.”
    “Miss Grace could probably tell you more about it. She grew up right around the block there.” He pointed out the back door toward the rear of the property. “That’s the old Abernathy place right through there. You can see the back of the carriage house right beyond those trees. I believe Miss Grace’s mother may have known Miss Ridgeway.”
    They’d already been in the house for over an hour, and there was no mistaking the fact that Ham was more than ready to leave. With great reluctance, Vanessa followed him out the door and watched him place the key back into the