by Jane Hinchey
We struggled, staggering left, then right. Then I managed to wedge the stun gun between us and press the prongs against her abdomen before squeezing the trigger. She vibrated as eight hundred thousand volts passed through her, and I could almost sympathize. Almost. There was a loud bang as we both toppled backward, her dead weight causing me to lose my footing. We landed with a crash that rattled my teeth.
“Fitz! Are you okay?” Ben was there, trying to haul Mary off me, but his hand just passed right through her.
“Urgh.” I grunted, “I’m fine.” Wedging my hands against Mary’s shoulders, I rolled her off me and struggled to my feet. My stun gun was on the floor several feet away, as was her gun, and I rushed to pick them both up, frowning when a drop of blood dripped onto the carpet.
“What?” I reached down and touched the drop, then looked back up at the ceiling. I have no idea what I was expecting to find up there, a body strung up to explain the dripping blood, perhaps? Or maybe I’d seen one too many scary movies. Regardless, there was no body on the ceiling, and Mary was making garbled noises on the floor three feet away. So whose blood was this?
“Audrey, you’re shot!” Anita gasped.
“What? No, I’m not.” I protested. I’d know if I was shot, and I hadn’t felt a thing. Although my ears were still ringing from the gun going off, I figure that bullet had gone wide, maybe into the wall or ceiling.
“You’re bleeding, Fitz,” Ben confirmed, pointing at my arm. I glanced down and almost passed out. There it was, a bullet-shaped furrow across my upper arm, blood not exactly gushing, but a reasonably decent flow. Clamping my hand over the wound, I looked at Ben in horror. “Now what do I do?” I squeaked. Mary wouldn’t be out for long, but I knew from experience that it took me a good twenty minutes to shake off the effects of being stunned.
“Secure the weapons, grab a clean tea towel from the kitchen and wrap it around your arm, keeping pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding.”
“Right.” I tucked my stun gun back into the waistband of my jeans and took the gun with me while I ducked out of the meeting room and into the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards until I found a neatly folded stack of tea towels.
“Hold this,” I said to Ben, passing him the gun, only, of course, he couldn’t hold it, and it clattered to the floor. “Shit!” I yelled, hopping aside in case I accidentally shot myself in the leg. Ignoring the gun for now, I snatched up a tea towel and wrapped it around my upper arm, hissing as I pulled it tight.
Rushing back to the boardroom, I checked on Mary, who was still moaning and groaning on the floor, then searched her bag that was hanging off the back of a chair. Bingo, one cell phone.
“Firefly Bay Police.”
“Detective Galloway, please.”
“One moment.”
Ten seconds later, Galloway picked up. “Galloway.”
“It’s me.” I’d never been so relieved to hear his voice. The adrenaline that had been pumping through my system had waned, my arm was throbbing, and the phone in my hand was as heavy as a brick. Pulling out a chair, I sat, resting my elbow on the table.
“Audrey? Why are you calling on the landline?”
“Phone broke.”
“What’s happened? Where are you?”
I filled him in on what had happened, my voice only a little bit wobbly. After telling me to stay put—as if I had plans otherwise—he hung up, and I sat with Anita and Ben, watching Mary on the floor. She’d stopped drooling, which was something, and the groaning had stopped too. In the distance, I could hear sirens approaching.
“Hear that, Mary?” I asked conversationally, giving her foot a nudge. “That’s the cops coming to arrest your ass.”
Her eyes blinked open, and I waited while she fought to focus.
“That’s right. You’re busted for the murder of Anita Finley. And the attempted murder of moi. I can’t believe you shot me, Mary. That was so uncalled for.”
Ben snorted, then we both jerked when a bright light filled the room. It was time. Anita’s murder had been solved. Time for her to move on.
“Is that for me?” Anita gasped.
Ben nodded. “It is.”
“What about you? Are you coming?”
“Nah. I’m good. I’m not done here.”
“Bye, Anita.” I smiled and gave a little wave.
“Thank you so much. For everything. Keep an eye on my boys, won’t you?”
“I will.”
Then she stepped forward. “Momma? Is that you?” The light intensified until it was blinding, and I had to look away, my eyes screwed shut.
“She’s gone,” Ben said. I blinked. Sure enough, the light was gone, and so was Anita, just in time for Galloway to come bursting in, Young and Walsh hot on his heels, weapons drawn.
After ascertaining Mary wasn’t a threat, Walsh holstered his weapon and stuck his head out the door, calling out to the paramedics waiting outside that it was all clear.
“Audrey Fitzgerald, we meet again.” One of the paramedics placed his bag on the table and unwrapped the tea towel from my arm to check my wound.
“Jayce.” I smiled at him. “This doesn’t need a hospital trip, does it? It’s just a scratch.”
The other paramedic who was checking on Mary glanced up when he heard my name. “Is that you, Audrey? What have you gotten into now?”
“Hey, Ned.” I returned his greeting. “Oh, you know, the usual.”
Jayce glanced at Ned. “GSW to the upper arm. What you got?”
“No external signs of injury,” Ned replied. He nodded toward my injury. “Through and through?”
“Nah, winged her. A few stitches and she’ll be as good as new,” Jayce said. “What did you do to her, Audrey?”
“Stun gun.”
“Ahh.” Ned nodded. “I’ll check her vitals, but she should be fine.”
“Good, because she’s under arrest,” Galloway growled. I reached up with my free hand and threaded my fingers with his, squeezing. “It’s okay. If it’s any consolation, I don’t think she meant to shoot me. The gun went off after I tased her.”
“She shouldn’t have been pointing a gun at you in the first place.” He pointed out.
“True.” It was also true that Mary hadn’t intended to kill Anita, but when that hadn’t gone to plan, she hadn’t exactly been filled with remorse. In fact, she’d planted evidence to implicate Noreen, and then intended to… what? Kill me to stop me from telling anyone what I’d discovered? It all seemed so extreme over a carousel.
“You better start choosing what steak knives you want,” Galloway said, watching while Jayce wrapped a bandage around my arm.
“Huh?”
“Your hospital frequent flyer card is about to get punched. Last time you told me you were one visit away from a free colonoscopy and a set of steak knives.” He reminded me, his lips curling up into a cheeky grin.
Jayce barked out a laugh. “That’s right, pretty sure that’s what you said.”
“Not you too,” I grumbled with a wink. “I could use the steak knives, though.”
“Jayce, can you give me a hand to get her to her feet?” Ned called. He’d finished taking Mary’s blood pressure and listening to her chest. Galloway and I watched as the two paramedics lifted her to her feet, made sure she was steady on her legs before handing her over to Young and Walsh. They immediately arrested her and slapped on a set of cuffs. It was almost worth getting shot for. Almost.
Ned approached, a grin on his face. “You all set for your ride?” He asked. “We’ll even let you choose. You can walk out to the ambulance, or I’ll get the stretcher?”
“Pft. I can walk. Honestly, it’s just a flesh wound, Jayce said so himself. A couple of stitches.”
“Come on then.” Gathering up their gear, I followed the paramedics out to the ambulance, Galloway with a supporting arm around my waist. Not that I needed it. But it was nice, just the same.
“One more question, and we’re good to go.” Ned set
tled me onto the stretcher in the back and strapped the seatbelt over me. Galloway took a seat by my head.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Lights and sirens?”
“Guys, it’s like you don’t even know me.” I grinned. “Lights and sirens all the way.”
Get your copy of book four, A Ghost of a Chance, here: https://janehinchey.com/GhostofaChance
Afterword
Thank you for reading, if you enjoyed The Ghost is Clear, please consider leaving a review.
If you’d like to find a complete list of my books, including series and reading order, please visit my website at:
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Thank you so much for taking a chance and reading my book - I do this for you.
xoxo
Jane
Read more by Jane
Find them all RIGHT HERE
The Ghost Detective Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series
#1 Ghost Mortem
#2 Give up the Ghost
#3 The Ghost is Clear
#4 A Ghost of a Chance
Witch Way Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series
#1 Witch Way to Magic & Mayhem
#2 Witch Way to Romance & Ruin
#3 Witch Way Down Under
#4 Witch Way to Beauty & the Beach
#5 Witch Way to Death & Destruction
#6 Witch Way to Secrets & Sorcery
Paranormal Romance & Urban Fantasy
The Awakening Series
#1 First Blade
#2 First Witch
#3 First Blood
The Hell’s Gate Series
#1 Straight to Hell
#2 The Devil Inside
#3 Hotter than Hell
The SIA Series
#1 Born in Fire
#2 Thirst for Fire
#3 Blood and Fire
#4 Marked in Fire
Stand alones
Returned
Heart of Darkness
Blood Cursed
Destiny’s Touch
About Jane
Find all my stories RIGHT HERE!
Hi there! I’m Jane Hinchey, bestselling author of the Ghost Detective Cozy Mystery Series. I totally admit that I can be a snarky, sarcastic, and on the odd occasion, hilarious storyteller. I love writing anything paranormal, from murder mysteries to steamy romance, but I’ve discovered everything I write has an element of suspense in it. Just like life, right? You never know how your story is going to end up!
I’m an Aussie – British born, Australian raised, which makes for an interesting vocabulary on occasion, especially as I write using US English. Let’s not get started on hood versus bonnet, torch versus flashlight, thong versus flip flop… believe me, that last one can get a girl into a lot of trouble if used incorrectly.
My life is pretty simple. I love reading, cats, and my family. My hero is my dad. I’m short in height but big on imagination. While I can’t technically speak feline, I often have animated conversations with my ginger ninja, Maxx, and my derpy cat, Morgan.
I live by three simple rules – (1) smile every day. (2) Be kind to each other. (3) Follow your dreams. And bonus rule, always, always, have coffee on hand!
I ABSOLUTELY love talking to readers (especially when they send me photos of their pets!) Send me a message ANYTIME at www.JaneHinchey.com or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/JaneHincheyAuthor
XOXO
Jane
Published by Baywolf Press
© Jane Hinchey 2020
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the Australian Copyright Act of 1968, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Editing & Proofreading: Marcia Batton, Lilly Rayman, Dana Busenbark, Misty Spencer, Fleur Wilkinson, Lisa Harris
Cover & Graphics Designer: Baywolf Book Covers
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.
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For Dad…
Who always believed in me.
I wish you were here to see this.
GHOST THE HALLS
Christmas at the lake house is stringing lights and searching for the perfect tree. It’s the one time of the year when the entire Fitzgerald clan squeeze together under one roof, trying to outdo each other in the goofy gift department. After a hectic year, I’m looking forward to kicking back, eating too much, and doing nothing more strenuous than wrapping gifts with festive bows.
Should have known that was too much to ask for when neighbor and old friend, Henry Peterson, turns up dead, face down in the snow decked out in a Santa suit.
Henry was a perfectly pleasant middle-aged man. That is until the holiday season hits, and he embraces all things Saint Nick with unbridled enthusiasm. I’d never given Henry much thought, other than to admire his Griswold inspired decorating efforts and predilection for ugly holiday sweaters. Was that reason enough to want him dead? I highly doubted it. Donning my PI hat, I’m soon knee-deep in snow and suspects, determined to find out whodunnit.
Before I can say deck the halls, my family, whose help some may consider a hindrance, insist on being in on the investigation, my boyfriend, aka Captain Cowboy Hot Pants is in cahoots with my mom, my ghostly best friend receives an unexpected gift, and I need to find who killed Kris Kringle before another body drops.
Enjoy this Christmas edition novella of the Ghost Detective Mysteries featuring private investigator Audrey Fitzgerald, a ghost, a talking cat, and a smoking hot detective.
1
There’s something about a crisp December morning, fresh snow painting the landscape a sea of white, the scent of pine from the garishly decorated tree in the corner, dead Santa on the sofa. I blew the steam from my coffee and cradled it between my palms as I padded over and sank into an armchair, staring into the flames that danced in the fireplace, the odd crackle and pop the only sound breaking the silence.
Dawn was the only time I got a moment’s peace from my crazy family, who were currently asleep upstairs. Every Christmas, we all piled into our respective cars to spend the holidays at the lake house. Squeezed in under one roof. Every year I vowed that year would be my last, and I’d be the ungrateful child who broke the tradition. And every year, I failed, dutifully turning up, gag gifts in tow.
“How you doing, Henry?” I finally acknowledged dead Santa, who was staring into the flames dancing in the fireplace. He glanced my way.
“Oh, hey, Audrey. Good to see you.”
“You too, Henry. So… what’s up?” I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but at this angle, in this light, it looked like Santa, aka Henry, had been shot.
Henry Peterson was our lake house neighbor, and if I thought my mom loved the holiday season, she had nothing on Henry. He was obsessed. He put Clark Griswold to shame with his light display—his cabin was covered, and I mean covered, in fairy lights. There were inflatable Santa’s, plastic Santa’s, wire Santa’s. There were snowmen and reindeer and candy canes. Henry had it all, and then some.
Henry was also dead. This was a new devel
opment, for when we’d arrived at the lake house yesterday, Henry had been very much alive. He’d been out front, righting a Christmas Elf that had toppled over near his mailbox. He’d given us a wave and called out a hearty greeting, asking if he’d see us at the Christmas Eve concert. He and his best friend, Ken Porter, were tag-teaming playing Santa, just like they did every year.
I sighed. His death would have a huge impact on the lake community. Henry was much loved and would be sadly missed, but my number one priority was finding out exactly what had happened to him – and to get him off the sofa before one of my family members came downstairs and caught me talking to a ghost. So far, I’d managed to keep my spirit speaking abilities hidden from them, but piled together in one house was going to be challenging in more ways than one.
“It’s the darndest thing,” Henry said.
“What’s that?”
“I can’t feel the heat from the fire.”
Ahh. Henry didn’t know he was dead. This was my least favorite part. Where was Ben when I needed him? He was much better at dealing with the recently departed than I am.
Ben is the ghost of my best friend, and, due to some dodgy attempt at spell casting from his killer, his spirit had somehow become attached to me, giving me not only the ability to see and speak to ghosts, but also talk to his cat, Thor. Both of which were noticeably absent this freezing December morning. Thor was no doubt curled up in bed with my boyfriend, Detective Kade Galloway. Let’s not get into my family’s reaction to me bringing along a guest to our annual Christmas camp out. Let’s just say it’s a first and leave it at that.