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“We have her number on file!” Dan yelled back from his own office.

“Thanks!” Moments later, Odelia was on the phone with the illustrious widow, and then she was grabbing her purse and walking out. When we didn’t move, she said, “Well, come on, you guys. Let’s get cracking.”

And so cracking we got.

“Dan! I’m going out!” she shouted.

“Great!” he shouted back.

“Strange way of communicating,” said Dooley.

“Yeah, they do shout a lot,” I agreed.

And then we were outside and jumping into Odelia’s battered old Ford pickup. The vehicle might be old, but it still got us from point A to B. We hopped onto the backseat, Odelia put the aged thing in gear, and moments later we were creeping away from the curb, the engine making a whiny sound. The whine petered out after a while, as if realizing it could whine as much as it wanted, it wasn’t getting to a mechanic anytime soon.

“I don’t believe this for one second,” Odelia was saying now, gripping the steering wheel in an iron grip. “Uncle Alec would never do such a thing. He’s an honorable man. He would never attack a woman, much less drag her into the bushes and have his way with her.”

“Well, it seems you’re just about the only person in town who thinks that,” I pointed out. “Most everyone seems to think he’s guilty.”

“Guilty of what, exactly?!” she cried.

“Let’s hear what Mrs. Witherspoon has to say,” I said.

We didn’t have to wait long. Pamela Witherspoon lived close to the bus station, and after Odelia had parked across the street and we’d managed to cross without being turned into pancakes, she pressed her finger on the buzzer. Moments later, the woman of the hour opened the door, looking harried. She glanced left, then right, then ushered us in. If she thought it strange that Odelia would have shown up with two cats in tow, she didn’t show it. I think people in Hampton Cove are used to Odelia showing up with her cats in tow by now.

Pamela Witherspoon was a sixty-something plump woman with a jowly face. Her gray hair dangled in little ringlets around a high forehead, and as she sat down, a smallish dog immediately jumped onto her lap and stared at Dooley and me with a look of defiance in his eyes.

“Boomer, no,” said Pamela as the Pomeranian produced a growling sound at the back of his throat. Obviously not big on cats.

“So what’s all this about my uncle dragging you into the bushes last night? “asked Odelia, deciding to get straight to the point.

“Oh, I know,” Pamela said. “And I swear it’s just rumors. A lot of malicious gossip.”

“Rumors? Are you sure?”

“Of course! Your uncle would never do such a thing. All he did was save me from that terrible zombie man and then walk me home so I would be safe. We said goodbye at the door and that was it. And then I went to the store this morning, and all I heard were stories about Chief Alec forcing himself on me. Crazy!”

“But where did those stories come from?” asked Odelia.

Pamela’s face suddenly took on a note of embarrassment. “I may have had something to do with that. I told my cleaning lady this morning about what happened, and she must have misunderstood. And then she visited her next job and must have embellished the story, and from there the whole thing must havesnowballed, taking on a life of its own.”

“You have to stop this, Pamela,” said Odelia sternly. “My uncle could get into some serious trouble over this.”

The widow threw up her hands in a gesture of despair.“What do you want me to do? I tell people what happened but they simply won’t believe me! Even my family and friends all think I’m lying to protect my attacker. They think I took your uncle’s money and signed some kind of non-disclosure agreement and now I’m lying through my teeth!”

“Mh,” said Odelia, thinking. “What if I interviewed you and put the story on tomorrow’s front page? They’d have to believe you then, wouldn’t they? Or we could even do a double interview, featuring both you and my uncle. Set the record straight.”

“I don’t know,” said Pamela, shaking her head. “I’m not so big on interviews. And after the ordeal I went through last night I don’t want my picture on the front page of theGazette, Odelia. What if the zombie recognizes me and comes after me?” She shivered.

“What zombie? What are you talking about?”

“The zombie your uncle saved me from!”

Odelia plunked down on the couch next to Pamela.“Start from the beginning, Pamela, and tell me exactly what happened.”

And so Pamela did. The story was a great one, full of twists and turns, and even the ending didn’t disappoint: a vanishing zombie? That was the best part, I thought, even though Odelia clearly didn’t think so.

“We have to find this person,” she said.

“Oh, I know exactly where to find him,” said Pamela, nodding.

“Hey, that’s great,” said Odelia, taking out her notebook. “You have his address?”

Pamela nodded primly.“The graveyard, of course. That’s where all zombies live.”

Chapter 8