“Help me understand what happened,” Graham said.

I gave him the abbreviated version of what I’d figured out with Luz earlier.

“And the part where you kissed me?”

“It’s sort of hard to explain. . . . I think it focused our minds on the present reality, denied Andre his influence over you.”

“Interesting ghost-busting technique.”

“I’m still a novice.” I shrugged. “I sort of fly by the seat of my pants.”

He gave me a half smile, then reached out and touched my cheek, stroking the still-livid bruise softly. “Did you figure out who gave you this shiner?”

“Janet had an admirer on the bus she drove—a sweet fellow, but he probably would have done whatever she asked. I bet it was him,” I said. My nervousness made me talkative. “As for these ghosts . . . I think Dominga, feeling the family had been disgraced enough, covered up Andre’s death and entombed him in the attic. And Charles was already there as well. Maybe she planned to move their bodies somewhere more permanent later . . . Who knows?”

“And Janet got the idea of cutting the banister, hoping to kill her own mother, Hettie Banks?”

“It’s important to remember that Janet wasn’t entirely in her own head. She was a miserable child, an adolescent when she first started associating with the ghosts. That’s a very volatile time, often correlated with paranormal activity. I think she was influenced by them so strongly that she wasn’t completely in control of her actions.”

“That will be a tough sell when she’s talking to the judge. So who’s in the third casket?”

“Luvitica. She probably wanted to be with Andre. I’m guessing Junior didn’t adhere to the full disclosure rules when he sold the house. He told Hettie to stay out of the attic, and she did.”

“But Janet didn’t.”

I shook my head. “Janet must have found the key to that closet and stirred up the ghosts. Emile took the key from her, and maybe he or Hettie tried to seal up the closet, make it hard to find. Hettie sent Janet away to live with her father, but she returned to help chase down all the cats after her mother was arrested.”

“Why did she kill Emile? Just for that key?”

“I think she was angry at him for many things, including hiding the key from her. She was also angry at her mother for leaving the money from the sale of Cheshire House to the animal shelter, so she set up her own mother to take the fall for Emile’s death. Janet probably thought she would inherit the place from her mother if Hettie went off to prison.”

“I think I need a drink. Suppose there’s any good vodka to be had at a Russian Tree party?”

The Snow Maiden, Snegurochka, hurried over to us as we descended the stairs. Her hazel eyes were huge with worry—and with hope.

“You are all right?” Katenka asked.

I nodded.

“Good. The police talk to us, but I could not help with much. Please to join the party. Try the salads. Very traditional for Tree celebration.”

I’m not exactly a mayonnaise fan. But I helped myself to some goose and caviar, and had to admit that the sbiten wasn’t bad. Especially when spiked with vodka. I noticed a sign in front of the punch bowl alerting parents to the dangers of young children ingesting honey.

The parlor soon filled with neighbors and friends, some of whom spilled out into the entryway and dining room. The presence of the police had caused quite a ruckus, but Elena had managed to distract the children by suggesting they open the presents. Torn tissue paper littered the floor like multicolored confetti.

“It is our tradition to wrap the presents several times,” Katenka explained. “Each layer is marked with the name of a child. First child takes off first layer, and passes it to next child named. Until finally the name on the last layer is the one to receive gift.”

“That’s a lovely custom. This party turned out great, Elena,” I said as the party planner joined us. “You sure came through in a crunch.”

“Really?” She sounded breathless.

“Really. I’m impressed. A lot of my clients give big parties and events—if you give me a stack of your cards I’ll hand them out.”

“That’s so thoughtful, Mel. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“Oh! I have to check in with the caterer, get the birthday cake ready,” said Elena. She hurried off toward the kitchen.

“What happened upstairs, Mel? Can you tell me?” asked Katenka.

“It’s sort of complicated.”

“I cannot believe that Janet, the cat-catcher . . .” She shrugged. “And the . . . entities?”

“I think they’re gone. I can’t promise—maybe we should get Olivier back out here with his machines to test things, just in case. But it feels different to me. It’s hard to describe, but the place feels benign now. Like a great old house full of metaphorical rather than real ghosts.”

“I don’t know this word, ‘metapharcal.’ ”

“Sorry. I just mean that the ghosts are gone, I think. Now it’s just a beautiful historic structure.”

“It is a home,” Katenka said. “Our beautiful home.”

“Yes it is.”