I let go of the breath I was holding.

Constance. She was banging the closet door again.

I planted my hands on my hips. Izzy had said they had examined the closet, but it seemed to me, it was time I checked it out for myself.

I laid a hand on the bannister and brought one foot up to rest on the bottom step. I looked back at the cat. “You coming?” He looked at me but didn’t move. If I had to guess, he wasn’t going anywhere that didn’t lead directly to the kitchen. “I’ll take that as a no.”

I climbed the stairs, my movements swirling dust motes in the rays of morning sun. Once I made it to the top, I walked carefully toward the closet, almost tiptoeing. I felt a little silly creeping along the hallway of my family home, but I couldn’t stop myself. I knew I wasn’t alone. If I had to put money on it, I was willing to bet the spirit of our deceased guest was hovering right behind me.

“Okay, Constance,” I whispered once I reached the closet. “Let’s see what you’ve got for me.”

I pulled the door open.

Nothing. Empty shelves from top to bottom.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Again, Izzy told me they had emptied the closet, but knowing that didn’t prevent the disappointment from welling up inside of me. And I knew I wasn’t the only one feeling that way.

The hair at the back of my neck prickled with a wave of frustration that wasn’t my own.

Now what?

I stepped in closer to the little cupboard and ran my hand over the flat, honey-colored wood of the nearest shelf noting its smooth feel. I couldn’t help but admire the artisanship. The closet had been handmade. Its planks were seamlessly aligned, and each shelf was perfectly distanced from the next. Unfortunately, the careful design also made it clear there were no clues here waiting to be found, just a faint scent of potpourri.

“I’m sorry, Constance,” I said out loud. “I don’t get it.”

Maybe she was just frustrated her killer hadn’t been found, and this was the only way she could express it?

“I know you must be upset. I’m doing everything I can. Could you maybe give me another clue?”

Bang!

The closet door had swung shut again, barely missing my nose.

“Okay,” I said, blinking. “I’m not sure how much that helps.”

I stared at the closet a little longer before opening it again. I gave it another search, then threw my hands in the air. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing in there.”

Bang!

To me that bang almost sounded like she was saying, Exactly!

“So you know there’s nothing in there. So maybe the closet is a symbol for something else?”

Silence.

“Okay, not a symbol.”

A closet with nothing in it. A closet with nothing in it.

Nope. That wasn’t helping.

I chewed on the side of my thumbnail. Most closets did have something in them, and Constance wanted me to find something. Maybe that was it? I had been thinking Constance was trying to lead us to a physical clue her killer had left behind, but what if that wasn’t the case? What if Constance was trying to lead me to something of hers? But Constance’s things weren’t here. I mean, of course they weren’t here. This wasn’t her house.