by Rose Pressey
“Hello?” I asked cautiously.
After a few seconds, he slowly turned around and our eyes met. Well, at least his eyes weren’t glowing red or anything. He didn’t have a happy look on his face, no twinkle in his eyes or jolly smile, but he wasn’t hissing at me either. That was a good sign, I suppose.
“Who are you?” I asked.
My phone alerted me to a text message. Previously I would have thought it was from Annie, but now I wasn’t sure.
I spoke with you on the phone. I called about the vase. My name is Josh Mooney.
It was as if someone had punched me in the stomach. A ghost had sent the vase to the museum? This was bizarre. Wait until Brannon heard about this.
“Um, hello, Josh,” I said cautiously. “You were the one who called me?”
Why couldn’t he call me on the phone now? Why was he sending me text messages? I had so many questions to ask that I didn’t know where to start.
I suppose I would ask first why he sent the vase. Then I would probably find out from him why he was here. Obviously, he was here to tell me about the vase, but I needed the details.
“Is the vase haunted? Is that why you sent it?” I asked.
Yes, it’s haunted. Extremely haunted.
Uh-oh. And I’d left it at the museum with Sidney.
“Is it dangerous?” I asked.
Josh remained in front of the window with a blank expression on his face. It was fine by me if he stayed over there. I still wasn’t totally convinced what was going on here. If he meant me harm, then I wanted to keep my distance.
A bad spirit is haunting that vase.
Well, this was the worst-case scenario. I had hoped for better news. Now I needed to get that vase away from Sidney as quickly as possible. I’d get the vase contained and into a place where it couldn’t hurt anyone. That was the best way to keep the vase from harming anyone. I needed more information about this vase immediately. I had to know exactly what we were dealing with.
“Why did you send it to me?” Maybe I was asking too many questions at once, but I wanted to know.
Why me?
Chapter 7
Because you have a haunted museum. That was his answer.
That made sense, I suppose.
“How did a ghost send me a package? I mean, I guess it’s no different than a ghost texting me, but there is the whole post office thing and putting it in a box, etc.”
I wasn’t a ghost then, duh.
Okay, now he was making fun of me. I guess I deserved that.
“When did you send it?” I asked.
Right before I died, duh. I was the one killed on the sidewalk out there. He pointed out the window.
Oh, wow, maybe I should have suspected that. I just hadn’t put two and two together. I suppose I had too many other things on my mind.
“Do you have any idea who killed you and why were you here?”
I came to talk to you about the haunted vase. And I don’t know who killed me, but I think it has something to do with the haunted vase.
“Is it an expensive vase?” I asked.
I have no idea about that.
“Where did you get the vase?” I asked.
It was left to me by my great aunt. Ellen Smart.
“And you don’t know anything about it other than it’s haunted?”
That pretty much sums it up. That’s why I was coming to you. So you could figure it out.
“How did you know about me?” I asked.
I was a real estate agent and deal with estate sales. A woman who recently had a sale told me that she sold one of her haunted objects to someone who had a museum. She gave me the information.
“So it wasn’t related to the vase that Brannon got. It was just a coincidence.”
He stared at me blankly. Obviously, he had no clue what I was talking about.
“Can you think of anyone who might have more information about the vase?” I asked.
Maybe my great aunt’s best friend, Mrs. Glass. Aunt Ellen told her almost everything, I suppose. My great aunt even left things to Mrs. Glass too.
“When did your great aunt pass away?” I asked.
If my time is correct, it was just a month ago. Like I said, my thoughts are a bit fuzzy.
“Well, if you just give me Mrs. Glass’ number, I’ll give her a ring,” I said.
I’ll give you the information, but I don’t think you’ll get much from her over the phone. She doesn’t do phone calls. She’d rather talk in person.
“I suppose she lives in Nashville?” I asked.
She lives outside of Nashville, yes.
‘Maybe I can call her and set up a meeting,” I said.
Good luck with that.
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it probably wasn’t good. Nevertheless, he gave me the info.
There’s one other thing.
“What’s that?” I asked.
I need you to help me.
“Help you with what? The vase? I already planned on it. I have to know what I’m dealing with because it looks as if your problem is now my problem.”
Help me find out who killed me.
“How in the world will I do that? I think the police are involved in that,” I said.
You can track down the paranormal. At least that’s what I heard.
“Do you think the paranormal killed you?” I asked.
I think it has something to do with that vase, which is the paranormal. My memory of everything is a bit fuzzy. I need you to piece it all together.
I suppose it wouldn’t be the first time I had tracked down a killer. And I was curious about the vase. Would the killer come after me now? If the killer truly had targeted this man because of a vase, then I really had no choice but try to solve this case. My life might depend on it. Brannon might think otherwise, but I’d deal with that later.
“All right, I’ll do it,” I said.
“You’ll do what?” the woman’s voice said from over my shoulder.
Oh no. I paused for a moment, not even turning around. I needed to gain my composure before I faced Mrs. McMillian. After a couple seconds, I spun around and met Mrs. McMillian’s gaze. Jill stood beside her with a smirk on her face.
“Exactly who are you talking to Mrs. Van Raden?” Mrs. McMillian asked.
“I was on my phone,” I said.
“I didn’t see the phone up to your ear,” Mrs. McMillian said with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s because I had it in front of me.”
That wasn’t a lie. I’d had the phone in front of me while I’d been texting with the ghost. Who, by the way, had disappeared now. Obviously, Mrs. McMillian and Jill hadn’t seen him.
“I slipped the phone in my pocket before you saw it. Furthermore, may I help you?” I asked.
Why was she being so accusatory? Because she thought I’d been talking to a ghost? Okay, sure she’d been right, I had been talking to a ghost, but that was neither here nor there.
“I was coming to say goodbye and hope that you will talk with Jill,” Mrs. McMillian said in a clipped tone.
Talk with Jill about the ghosts was what Mrs. McMillian meant, but she just didn’t say it.
“I certainly will,” I said. “And thank you for stopping by to say hello, Mrs. McMillian.” I knew I had a condescending smile on my face. I didn’t care.
She stared at me for a moment with a raised eyebrow, then turned around without saying another word. Her heels clicked against the floor as she walked down the hallway to head back downstairs. Thank goodness she was leaving. Now that left me with Jill though. She stared at me expectantly.
“Did you have a nice discussion with Mrs. McMillian?” I asked with a smile.
“Yes, we had a nice talk,” she said.
Now maybe she was rethinking that talk, considering she was alone with me and I was her boss. I didn’t have time for this discussion right now though. I had work to do and so did she.
“We’ll go back downstairs and get to wo
rk,” I said, motioning for her to walk ahead of me.
I glanced back over my shoulder one more time before walking out of the room to see if the ghost had reappeared. He was nowhere in sight. Would he come back? Or was that the one and only visit that I’d get? I hoped the killer didn’t come for me soon.
Once downstairs, I gave Jill instructions on where to get started and I went looking for Tammy. I had to tell her about the ghost and my run-in with Mrs. McMillian. Also, where was Annie? I was surprised she hadn’t sent me another text. A few seconds later, I found Tammy over in the romance section.
“There you are,” she said. “Did you talk to Mrs. McMillian? She was looking for you.”
I rolled my eyes. “We spoke. She caught me talking to a ghost again.”
“Oh, no,” Tammy said. “What did she say?”
“I told her I’d been on the phone, which technically I had been texting a ghost.”
“Annie?” Tammy asked.
I shook my head. “I was texting the new ghost.”
Her eyes widened. “Who’s the new ghost?”
“The guy who was murdered out on the sidewalk last night.”
“He’s in the library now?” Tammy whispered.
“That’s right. Or at least he was, and he wants me to find out who killed him.”
“Why does he want you to do that?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“I guess you do have some experience. Wow, word really has gotten out about your snoopiness, er, I mean, case solving skills.”
“He sent the haunted vase too and he thinks that’s why he was killed. Now the vase is mine and I have to find out who killed him before they come after me,” I said.
Tammy gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. She dropped the book on the floor with a thud. “This is dangerous. You’d probably better tell Brannon about this.”
I’d tell Brannon about this, but I wouldn’t take his advice because I knew he would tell me to stay out of it. I’d just tell him that the ghost had been around, not that he’d asked me to investigate his murder. It might hurt Brannon's feelings too that the ghost came to me instead of him.
Once back over at the reference desk, I sent Brannon a text, then looked around for Annie while I waited for him to respond. A couple seconds later, I got a response.
You’re kidding? And the ghost talked to you?
He sent me a few text messages.
Just like Annie. Maybe there’s some sort of special power from that library that allows ghosts to send electronic messages.
Well, he’s the one who called me too. He called Sidney as well. That’s why the phone call was so garbled. His voice just wasn’t coming through enough.
This is fascinating. I’ve got to use this information for more research or something. Maybe I can invent something that allows the ghost to speak more clearly over the phone.
I knew this would get Brannon interested in finding another gadget to help talk to ghosts. Now maybe he wouldn’t ask for more information, like if the ghost wanted me to investigate his murder.
I typed: Call me later, okay?
Text if you talk with the ghost again. Love you.
There was another phone call that I wanted to make quickly. I wouldn’t be able to get a thing done until I did. After going to my office, I dialed the number that Josh had given me. His great aunt’s friend would probably be shocked to know that a ghost had given me her number.
After a few rings, the woman answered.
“Is this Mrs. Glass?” I asked.
“Yes, is this a telemarketer? Because I don’t want to buy anything.”
“No, no, it’s not about that,” I said. “I’m calling about your best friend Ellen Smart.”
“What about her?” she asked suspiciously.
“Well, I was sent a vase and supposedly it’s haunted. I have a paranormal museum and I just wanted to find out more information about that vase. But now I know that Ellen has passed on, and unfortunately, her grandnephew has as well.”
“I hadn’t heard about that. That’s terrible,” she said.
“Yes, I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.
“I didn’t know him well, but it is terrible. He just didn’t talk to his aunt that much. He just came around when there was something to inherit. How did you get the vase?” she asked.
“He mailed it to me before he died,” I said.
“Well, I guess he did one thing right.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.
Chapter 8
Apparently, Mrs. Glass wasn’t a fan of her friend’s nephew.
“What I want to know is more information about this vase. Why would he send it to me?” I asked.
“Who knows what was going on with those two. Ellen started talking crazy and said the vase was haunted.”
“Do you know why she said that? Was there a reason she thought it was haunted?”
“Beats me,” Mrs. Glass said.
How would I find out if the vase was truly haunted if Ellen’s dear friend didn’t even know? Would Mrs. Glass insist to know how I’d found her number?
“Ellen left you some of her things?”
“Yes, I have some of her belongings that she left me. One of the items is a box of receipts from purchases. Perhaps that will let you know where she got it from.”
“Oh, that would be great if you could let me know,” I said.
“Whoa, I didn’t say that I would look for this information. You can come over here and look for yourself,” she said.
That didn’t sound like a lot of fun, but I suppose if she wasn’t going to do it, then I’d have to.
“When would be a good time to come by?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to check my schedule. You call me back later and I’ll let you know. Have a nice day,” she said.
And with that, she ended the call. She certainly was a bit peculiar, but then again, weren’t we all in our own certain way? I just hoped it wasn’t too long until she told me it would be okay to come by. What if she’d just told me that to get me off the phone? I hoped that wasn’t the case because I really wanted to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible. Before anyone else was hurt. Right now, though, I needed to get to work.
***
A few hours later and it was time for the tour. I went through my routine of closing everything down, feeding Jane Austen, saying goodbye to Annie, and turning out most of the lights. I left a few lights on so that Annie wouldn’t be afraid of the dark. Yes, a ghost afraid of the dark.
Jill was just walking out the door. She glanced back. “Have a good evening.”
“Good night,” I said with a wave.
Maybe it was my imagination, but her words didn’t seem sincere. A hint of a smirk on her face when she smiled at me? I was probably jumping to conclusions. Jill walked out without another word.
Locking the library doors behind me, I headed down the path for the sidewalk. I glanced over at the graveyard in front of the library. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought for sure I saw the ghost. When I looked again, he was nowhere in sight. I hadn’t seen him since earlier in the day and I was hoping he would pop up soon to give me more information. How funny was that? I actually wanted to see a ghost. However, right now, I had to get to the cemetery. I hoped that nothing went wrong tonight on the tour. I needed a nice, relaxing tour with no incidents. Okay, yes, it was a haunted tour and there might be scary ghosts, but what I wanted was no murders. I walked by the old brick buildings that lined the streets of town. Light traffic moved up and down the main street. The ornate black streetlamps provided a good amount of light around the streets of town, but spots remained dark adding to the spookiness of Devil’s Moon.
When I stepped into the tavern, Tammy wasn’t there. She had left the library thirty minutes before me, and I thought for sure she would have made it to her second job by now. Maybe she was in the back. The middle-aged, dark-haired bartender behind the bar made eye contact with me.
“Hey, Phi
l,” I said. “I’m just picking up the flashlights for tonight.”
Like Tammy, Phil worked part-time at the tavern too.
“Is Tammy on her way?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “She’s not here?”
“No, we haven’t heard from her.”
Immediately a sinking feeling came over me. Why would she not be here?
“I’ll give her a text. She’s probably on her way.” I pulled out my phone.
I tried to stay calm, but I couldn’t help but think something bad might have happened. All right, I needed to calm down. I shouldn’t automatically think that something bad had happened. Maybe she just got held up in traffic. Though there wasn’t a lot of traffic from here to the tavern. She probably just decided to go somewhere else first. Maybe a quick errand.
“Didn’t mean to worry you. You’re right, Tammy will no doubt be here soon,” he said, handing me the bag of flashlights.
I’m at the tavern to pick up the flashlights. Are you okay?
I hoped she answered soon. Checking the time on my phone, I realized I was running late. There was no time to wait to see if Tammy showed up. If she didn’t answer soon, I’d freak out, though. How would I get through the tour if I hadn’t heard from her? Should I file a missing person’s report? There I went again with overreacting again. Besides, I doubted Brannon would allow me to report her missing after just thirty minutes.
“I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” I said when Phil looked my way again. “I need to get to the cemetery. When she comes in have her text me.”
“Sure thing,” he said with a wave.
Heading out of the tavern, I walked down the alleyway toward the graveyard. My heels clicked against the cobblestone street. A bit of wind had started to stir the branches on the trees, making them sway just a bit. The movement wasn’t a deterrent to the owl who liked to sit perched on top of the highest branch in the old oak tree by the gate. With his glowing green eyes, he watched my every move. He wasn’t the only one who kept an eye on me. Mrs. Clatterbuck, a cankerous ghost, often made her presence known. Although I might not see her, I knew she kept an eye on the place at all times.