Under a Misty Moon

Why had I listened to Daisy Stanton? “You don’t have to take this assignment, Ned,” she had said when we met for coffee at Grandy’s last week. “I do need the pictures and you are such a great photographer. But, I may be able to find time to run out there in a few days.”

She really knew how to push my guilt button. I had plenty of time. My only job was working part-time for Daisy and her real estate company, and I could certainly have turned her down, but she looked so needy that I couldn’t refuse.

So, here I was on a windy, autumn day standing at the gate of the dilapidated house known as The Old Saunders Place. When I left home, forty-five minutes earlier, the day had been sunny, brightly-colored leaves glistening in the sun. But, now, scudding clouds came between me and that sunlight. Limbs on the tall trees surrounding the house twisted in a wild dance and a loose shutter banged dismally.

Aiming my camera at the sagging front porch, I took the first picture. I walked around the building, getting a few more shots of sides and back. Daisy would like to have some photos of the interior, but the light was ebbing fast. Thunder growled in the distance. A storm was on its way. The empty rooms must surely be dark. I’d wait until a brighter day before venturing inside.

 The Saunders Place had been empty for a long time. With no heirs, and no one to lay claim to it, Daisy waited until it had gone through the required legalities before it came up at auction and she bid on it. When I was a child here in my hometown, I had heard spooky stories about the haunted Saunders house. My pals, Pat and Jackie and I never ventured anywhere near it. I didn’t believe in ghosts, but it paid to be cautious.

Since this is only the beginning of a fourth Ned McNeil moonlight cozy, Murder By Moonlight, you might like to catch up by reading the first three: Moonlight Can Be Murder, By the Fright of the Silvery Moon, Moonstruck and Murderous.