by Willow Mason
“We’re all sticking to the couch,” Rosie said in a no-nonsense tone. “There’s no use in us splitting up and going to separate parts of the house.”
“In which case, we should all go to bed upstairs,” Posey argued while my eyes tried to stay closed. “If the ghost calls by the bedroom again, we mightn’t even hear it from this far away.”
With the sleeping arrangements sorted, I staggered upstairs on weary legs and climbed onto the bed, not bothering to change my clothes or get under the covers. “How bourgeois,” I whispered when Rosie suggested pyjamas might be more fitting. I missed her reply by falling fast asleep.
Screaming woke me again. Posey was sitting bolt upright, pointing to the apparition in the corner. “What is it?” she yelled as my heart tried to bound out of my chest. “That’s not Esmerelda.”
“If you don’t leave here at once, you’ll die at somebody else’s hand,” the ghost intoned, arms reaching for me. “My killer is still on the loose. You must leave at once.”
“Who is it?” A sudden rush of anger overcame my knocking knees, and I jumped up from the bed, hands planted on my hips. “Instead of telling me to get out, why don’t you tell me who the killer is. That way we can make sure they’re locked up.”
The ghost appeared taken aback for a second, then waved her arms more vigorously. “No, you must leave at once. It’s the only way to stay safe.”
“And leave a killer stalking this community?” I advanced a step, ignoring the shrieking wind and rattling chains echoing throughout the room. “Do you really believe I’d leave Oakleaf Glade when I know a murderer is free to kill again?”
“You must.” The ghost inched away from me, half her backside disappearing into the wall. “Otherwise the killer will stop at nothing to see you dead.”
“But a short drive to Nelson would stop them?” I laughed, at first having to force the sound out of my lungs, then easing into it as I saw the uncertainty on the spirit’s face.
“Maisie?” Posey crept up behind me with her brow furrowed. “Maisie Matthews, is that you?”
“I don’t know anyone of that name. Boo. I’m Esmerelda.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Maisie. Who put you up to this ridiculous prank?” Posey ducked in front of me, poking her finger into the ghost. “Come on. Put your face back to normal. The gig’s up and the longer you keep pretending, the grumpier we’ll be.”
The ghost dropped her arms to her sides and her features resolved into a pleasant looking woman, aged somewhere around fifty. Almost the same instant she did so, the noise abruptly stopped.
“Got it!” Rosie crowed, crawling out from behind a dresser in the corner. “Look at this. Someone put a sound system under the floorboards in the corner.” She held up the black contraption, dancing in a circle with glee.
“Maisie Matthews, you should be ashamed of yourself,” Posey scolded, folding her arms across her chest. “Scaring this poor girl half to death. What would your daughter say?”
“No!” The ghost’s expression turned to alarm. “You can’t tell Bethany. It’s just a joke.”
“Some joke. Do we look amused?”
The three of us stood in a line, arms folded and grouchy expressions in place, even though inside I was woozy with relief.
“You…” Maisie’s throat worked up and down, coming into clear focus then fading into a smudgy mist. “I owed a friend a favour.” She pointed her finger at Posey’s face. “If anyone asks you, I kept my part of the bargain.” With a loud whomph, she disappeared into thin air.
“Who’s Maisie?” I asked in a scratchy voice. “Why would she want to scare me?”
“Goodness knows. She’s the town ghost and has been hanging around here for far too long if this behaviour is anything to go by.”
“The town ghost.” I rolled the phrase around in my mouth to see if it made more sense. Nope. “Why does the town have a ghost?”
“She’s a standard human ghost,” Posey explained. “But because she’s stuck around long after anyone normal would have decamped for the afterlife, we just got used to having her around.”
Rosie cleared her throat. “This sound system appears to be the same one Myles Berwick had at his garage sale a few months back, remember?”
Her sister leaned over the equipment, frowning, then after a long pause gave a nod. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“In which case, I know who’s behind this fake message.” Posey didn’t appear happy at the thought. “We’d better go right now and accuse him while the scene’s fresh in our mind.”
“Him?” I stood back, blinking rapidly.
“Brody Newhart.” Posey gave a large, sad sigh. “Your cousin’s to blame.”
Chapter Twelve
Brody answered the door of his flat with a cheerful smile. “What are you all doing here so late?” he asked, showing us inside. “Did I plan a party and then forget about it?”
“We’re not here for frivolities,” Posey said, on the verge of tears. “Did you hire Maisie Matthews to scare Elisa half to death?”
“I…” Brody’s face crumpled, sagging into despair. “It’s not—”
“If you’re about to say it’s not what we think,” Rosie interrupted, her voice full of steel, “then you can stop right there. We’ve got your sound system in the boot of our car and the confession of a ghost on record.”
“Maisie dobbed me in?”
Posey poked a finger into Brody’s chest. “Don’t you dare go getting indignant over this. Elisa’s the only one with a right to feel that way. Now, explain yourself or we’re going straight to the police.”
“The police?” Brody’s face turned pale, and he swayed on his feet. “There’s no need—”
“We’ll decide what need there is and isn’t,” I said, stepping forward and deciding it wasn’t up to the twins to fight my battles. “You threatened my life to cheat me out of my rightful inheritance. There’s at least one criminal act there, probably two, and perhaps a third if we dig around long enough. You have one chance to explain yourself and I’d advise you take it.”
“I was desperate,” Brody burst out, running a hand through his hair until it stood on end, just like mine. He looked me in the eye. “When you came to the restaurant today, I felt like such a heel. All this time I’ve been trying to scare you away, and you were willing to share. It never even occurred to me you’d be that generous.”
“It didn’t stop you sending Maisie out again tonight.”
“I couldn’t get hold of her and the sound system and lighting stuff was already in place. Until I had the chance to retrieve it, I wasn’t able to stop anything.”
“You could have told me!” I crossed my arms and stared at the floor, trying to contain my emotions. “When I visited you today, all it would’ve taken was a word.”
Rosie patted my shoulder and glared at Brody. “What were you hoping to achieve? She’s already accepted the inheritance. I mean, look at her.” She waved at my vibrant hair.
“I just wanted the house and to care for Muffin.” Brody’s voice started to hitch, and he pressed a hand firmly against his chest. “When you first came to town, it upset everything I’d planned. While you were swanning around in Nelson, I was the one who took care of Muffin and spent time with Esmerelda. The inheritance should’ve come to me.”
“You know full well how unlikely that was.” Posey’s voice hardened further, her eyes glinting. The expression was so unlike her usual joyous smile, even I felt afraid. “The rules are set in stone.”
“They’re stupid rules.”
“Yeah, cry me a river for the white male and his struggles,” Rosie said with a snigger.
Brody shook his head sadly. “I wrote out the note and stuffed it under your door the first night, thinking it might do the trick. In the morning, I realised it was a foolish action and came around early to retrieve it, but you’d already picked it up.”
“We’re not here about a note shoved through the door.” I folded my arms
and stiffened my spine to stand as tall as I could. “The note I could overlook, it was the screaming ghost in my face that caught most of my attention.”
“You didn’t know what to feed Muffin or anything about Esmerelda and her legacy.” Brody shrugged. “It made me see red that you could waltz in here with no real knowledge of your aunt and just expect to replace her. Once you’d left the house, I fetched the sound system to install it in the secret box under the floorboards.”
Brody gave a sudden laugh and shook his head. “You came back while I was halfway through and nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought for sure you’d catch me, and my entire endeavour would be over, just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Now, I wish that had happened. I’m so sorry.”
“How did you know Esmerelda had been murdered?” I demanded, not ready to show him any mercy. “Were you responsible for her death?”
“What!? NO.” Brody’s eyes opened wide, and he stepped back. “I’ve never hurt anybody in my life and I’m not about to start now. If I thought your aunt had genuinely been murdered, I’d be camped out at the police station demanding justice.”
The shock appeared real enough for me to breathe a sigh of relief. “You’re sure?”
“I swear on my mother’s life. If I knew any different, I’d tell you.”
“All this exclaiming and remorse is fine and dandy,” Rosie said through pursed lips. “But until you return what you stole, it’s all just wordplay.”
“What’s been stolen?” Brody’s brow creased as he stared from me to Rosie and back again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Pull the other one.” Rosie pushed past the young man and strode into his living room, picking up cushions and rifling through his shelves. “You decided Esmerelda’s legacy was yours and helped yourself to it.”
“The police already have the theft on file,” I added. “We’re happy to call PC Bronson down here to search the house if you’d prefer.”
Brody’s eyes darted around the room, but he held his hands up to either side. “Look, I understand why you might believe this, but I swear, I never took a thing from Esmerelda’s house. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on.” Rosie snorted while her sister wrung her hands together, seeming anxious. “Since you’re being kicked out of your flat, I’m hoping you haven’t sold it all on the black market. Tell us where you’ve hidden the dust and we’ll consider not pressing charges.”
“Someone stole Esmerelda’s pixie dust?” Brody’s mouth fell open. “But that’s awful.”
“Yes, it is.” Rosie walked over and planted her face an inch away from his. “That’s why we’re only giving you one chance to return it.”
“I never…” Brody ran a hand through his hair again, eyes growing frantic. “It’s not me.”
“Give me one reason I should believe you,” I said, walking closer. His face broadcast innocence but I’d been fooled by him once already and didn’t want to repeat the mistake.
“There was a fence in the café,” Brody spluttered, not making any sense to me. “He’s been making transactions all day long.”
“A fence?” My mind supplied the picture of a wooden gate, not aiding any in my comprehension.
“A dealer. A go-between. Someone selling stolen goods.” Brody waved his hands. “You know.”
“A criminal was trading in pixie dust at the tavern and you didn’t think to tell anybody until now?” Rosie’s face was a study in incredulity. “This sounds like another wind-up.”
“No, it’s true. I can give you a description and everything. Even Marcia noticed something dodgy about him and she barely ever sees what’s in front of her nose.”
Rosie and Posey shared a disbelieving glance while I stood back, trying to view the situation dispassionately. From what the twins had told me, pixie dust was either used as a drug or to top up someone else’s magic. It seemed unlikely someone would sell it in plain sight.
On the other hand, what I didn’t know about drug dealers or sellers of stolen goods could fill a dozen encyclopaedias. Just because television shows preferred to highlight dark alleys or graffitied corners didn’t mean it reflected real life.
“You said you could give us a description,” I said, hesitating over every word and hoping I wasn’t about to be taken for another ride. “Since the police are dealing with the burglary already, would you be willing to talk to them?”
“Yes.” The relief on Brody’s face was palpable. “Just give me a chance and I’ll prove it had nothing to do with me. I’ll sit down with any sketch artist or pick somebody out of a line up. I’ll help in any way I can.”
The twins still appeared unconvinced, but I hitched my phone out from my back pocket and dialled the station number. “Is PC Lucas Bronson still there?” I asked politely when a female voice answered. “We’ve got a potential witness who can help with our burglary case.”
Chapter Thirteen
It turned out PC Bronson had left work for the day. We were offered the help of someone called PC Prue Notting, but an alarmed shake of Rosie’s head had me turn her down. Instead, I arranged an appointment for the following morning, allowing a sleep-in since we’d been up half the night.
“My boss will likely fire me if I miss another shift,” Brody said in a worried tone, clenching his hands together.
“Something you should’ve thought of before you began breaking the law left, right, and centre,” Rosie said without sympathy. “If you’re not waiting when we drop by tomorrow, then our deal’s off and the only person we’ll be speaking about to the police is you.”
I felt a small niggle of distress at the thought of making someone else lose their job. It diminished when my mind threw up a visual of Maisie Matthews shrieking in my face.
If I still had reservations about our treatment of Brody, I could slip him some cash from the jar later. Since it seemed to refill itself at will, the offer would be no skin off my nose.
Muffin greeted us at the door with questions. She’d declined the invitation to escort us on the journey and I couldn’t blame her. After being fed by Brody for years, she must have formed a strong bond with him. The disappointment on her face as I recounted his confession showed how deeply he’d abused the kitten’s trust.
With no need to stay together any longer, I went to bed in my room, offering Rosie and Posey the choice of a single bed in the spare room or the sofa downstairs. I didn’t wait to see where they landed, my eyes only grudgingly stayed open until I reached my room.
The sound of singing woke me—not the terrifying wail of a ghost overacting but the cheery noise of a fairy cooking breakfast. I nudged Muffin awake, and we rushed downstairs, grateful for the company. Rosie flipped a pancake on the griddle pan while Posey poured me a fresh glass of orange juice.
“How did you arrange all this?” I asked in astonishment, seating myself at the breakfast counter. “Have you been awake for hours?”
“Fairies rise with the dawn, always.” Posey held her plate out for the newest pancake and quickly covered it with lemon juice and sugar. “You’ll barely see us during winter but in summer, we’re always awake and about.”
“I’m so sorry I kept you up late last night.”
“We don’t mind staying up for something important. Besides, we don’t get sleepy during the day. That’s a human thing.” Rosie turned, spatula in hand, and examined my rumpled face. “And a pixie thing, apparently.”
“Morning,” Hazel called out from the doorway. “What’s happening over here? There was a flurry of excitement last night, then you’re having a breakfast party this morning.”
“Rosie and Posey have been helping me to evict an upset spirit,” I explained, waving her inside.
Hazel’s face went as pale as the screaming ghost from the night before. “Esmerelda came back as a ghost?”
Her obvious fear made me feel much better about my reaction. The calmness with which Muffin and the twins had greeted the startling appa
rition had me half convinced I was a drama queen. “Not Esmerelda,” I said, pulling Hazel over to a chair before her shaking legs could abandon her. “But a ghost pretending to be her.”
“It was Maisie Matthews,” Rosie said, waving her spatula in the air. “Do you want pancakes? I’m cooking up far more than I can eat.”
“Just put them on the table so folks can help themselves,” Posey said, bringing over a variety of syrups and laying them out. “Brody hired the ghost to scare Elisa away from Oakleaf, so he could grab the inheritance.”
“Really?” Hazel’s eyes widened, and the colour rushed back into her cheeks. “How awful. So he’s the one behind the note as well?”
“All him.” Posey pulled her mouth down, reflecting her disapproval. “Just when you think someone’s a good guy…”
“We’ll find out what he’s made of today,” Rosie said, carrying a stack of pancakes to the table. “A few hours in the police station should teach him a good lesson.”
“You’re having him arrested?” Hazel’s voice squeaked into the upper registers.
“We should,” Posey grumped. “But no. He’s helping us out with another matter. Did Elisa tell you her pixie dust was stolen?”
“What pixie dust?” Hazel tucked into her breakfast with such gusto I wondered if her parents usually forgot to feed her.
“There was a box that should’ve been full of generations worth,” Rosie said with a sigh. “But it’s all gone.”
“Brody’s a thief as well?” Hazel shook her head. “You’d better get those keys back off him sharpish.”
“No need,” Rosie said with a shake of her head. “We’ll teach you how to ask the house to change the locks. With all that’s happened lately, I’m sure it won’t take much effort for the magic powers to comply.”
“But Brody said he didn’t take the dust,” I pointed out. “And he’s going to help us today.”
“Maybe.” Rosie shot me a stern glance. “We’ll see if he shows up.”
“Shows up where?” Hazel’s gaze flicked from me to Rosie to Posey and back again, eagerly scanning for gossip. “How’s he going to help?”