by K. J. Emrick
Kyle reached out, and put his hand in hers. “Then I’m glad I have you.”
“Me too,” she said, feeling the tingling rush of his fingers around her own.
Chapter 4
“So, what’s with that Bates guy?” Kyle said, clearly having picked up on her little conversation with Jack. “What did he say that’s put you so on edge?”
“I don’t know, he’s just kind of weird.” Miranda said. “Actually, no, that’s not fair. He isn’t weird. To me it just felt like he knew more than he was letting on.”
They were almost to the top of the slope back to the house now, and Miranda could see how anyone would have had a hard time running up this. Josh Bates must compete in marathons, she thought to herself.
“Well, thank you for clarifying,” Kyle said, gliding effortlessly up the hill next to her, “but I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Well, first of all, he recognized me.” Butter scampered around her feet, taking the hill as effortlessly as Kyle was. “Me, and Ragged Rest both.”
“What do you mean, recognized you? Have you two met? Ooh, was it on some book tour for your novels or something?”
“No, no it wasn’t me he recognized so much as it was the family resemblance. He said I looked just like my Aunt Connie…”
“Who?” Kyle asked.
They were at the top of the hill now, and Miranda took a moment to collect her breath. Her legs were definitely going to ache tomorrow. The night had been murder on her feet.
Although, that was probably a poor choice of words.
“You want to lie down for a bit?” Kyle teased. “Maybe take a couple of pain killers?”
“Shut up,” she told him pointedly. “I’d say I’m in great shape for a woman pushing forty.”
“What do you mean, pushing? You’re forty-three years old.”
She glared at him, but there was no sense in denying the truth. Especially to a ghost. “You,” she said, “should know better than to comment on a woman’s age.”
“Sure. Because I’m worried about age from this side of death. Anyway, who did you say Bates thought you looked like?”
“My Aunt Connie. She used to live here at Ragged Rest.”
“I thought that was your Uncle Horatio,” Kyle said, wrinkling his face up in confusion.
“Well yes, Uncle Horatio did live here. But so did my Aunt Connie, once. She was Horatio and my mum’s sister.”
“Ah. Got it. Not a big talker about your family, are you?”
“There’s never been much to talk about.” She shrugged, wondering again how all of this tied into Kyle’s dire warning of a mystery connected to her family. It had to have something to do with it, didn’t it? “Anyway, I guess I do kind of look like her. He asked me if I was her daughter, in fact.”
“Then I suppose he knew your aunt really well?”
“Sounds like he knew her a little better than I did,” Miranda said pointedly.
“How so?”
At the top of the hill now, at the house, Miranda looked back down over the beach and the pools of artificial illumination created by the pole lights. “Because, he asked me if I had the same gifts as her.”
“Oh, wow,” Kyle said, floating through the doorway and waiting for her to follow him inside the old fashioned way, ushering Butter in as well. “That’s epic, Miranda. I mean, that could point to Connie having the same abilities as you. Would she see me, do you think? Would she be right here, talking to me right now like you are?”
“How should I know?” Miranda could feel herself becoming frustrated, and she knew it wasn’t all Kyle’s fault. He was just the convenient target. “I never knew her that well. She’d gone off somewhere, and if she didn’t think enough of me to keep in touch then why am I going to start caring about her now?”
Her friend must have understood, because he didn’t rise to the bait, or come up with some flippant response like he normally would have done. “I see. So we’ll set that aside for now. What did you tell Josh Bates?”
“Nothing,” Miranda said, shaking her head from side to side. “I just told him I didn’t really know what he was talking about, and made my excuses, and got away from him quick as I could. I imagine the police will be talking to him more, and he said he wanted to come visit Ragged Rest soon. To see it again. So I could always ask him questions then, I suppose.”
“But if he knew of your Aunt Connie’s gift, surely he’s the kind of guy who believes in such things,” Kyle said, thoughtfully. “You shouldn’t worry about telling him you’re psychic, right?”
“Whether he does believe or doesn’t, I don’t know him well enough to trust him with that sort of information. For all I know, he’d have it spread all over Moonlight Bay before the sun came up. Seriously, that’s the last thing I need. Remember why I left the city?”
“Oh yes, I see what you mean.” Kyle nodded vaguely. “But why does that make him weird?”
“What?” Miranda said, filling the teakettle at the sink and looking back over her shoulder at him.
“Just because he knows, or at least seems to know, that your aunt had psychic abilities and asked you about it, why does that suddenly make him weird?”
“Actually, that’s a pretty good question,” Miranda said, setting the kettle down on the stove and switching it on. “Maybe he wasn’t weird after all. I mean, I felt my emotions all tangled up around him but that could have been me sensing what he was feeling after finding the dead woman, and such. I didn’t stick around long enough to find out.”
“So he could be a good guy, then.”
“Yes, he might very well be a good guy. It doesn’t matter right now,” she said, yawning and stretching grandly. “I want some warm tea, and then some rest. Oh, but not before we get back to the main point of discussion, Kyle. What, exactly, did you see when you were over examining the victim? You were hovering about for ages, doing as much looking as you were listening.”
“Well,” he said, eagerly hovering closer now that he was the center of attention again, “one of the cops noticed that the woman had grass stains on her shoes. There’s no grass on the beach, so they looked up. They’re pretty sure she was on the cliffs shortly before she ended up on the beach. There’s a yard up there, or something. They were going to check it out when we came back to the house.”
“Oh my God, the poor woman,” Miranda said, hugging herself as the kettle began to whistle.
“Assuming, of course, that really is how she died. I guess they won’t know until they do the post-mortem. After all, she might have already been dead when she came over the edge.”
Turning off the stove, Miranda poured hot water into a cup with a teabag already at the bottom. When the cup was full she set the kettle aside, and breathed in the heady aroma. “I guess we’ll always have trouble in our peaceful little town, won’t we?”
“Yup,” he agreed. “We know that better than anyone else.”
“Well, we’ve certainly seen more than our fair share.”
“Anyway,” Kyle said briskly, as if the turn in their conversation was not helping them one little bit. “The woman still had her purse with her. It was one of those cross-body things with a big long strap. No way to hurt those things.”
That was curious, Miranda decided. “Was there anything in it?”
“Oh sure. Women don’t usually carry purses with nothing in them. She had her ID in there and a bunch of makeup and stuff.”
“Her ID? Now he tells me!” Miranda said, waving her hand around and sloshing the tea over the side of her cup.
Kyle stared at her in confusion. “What?”
“What? You’re asking me… are you for real? You’ve known her name all along and it’s only now that you’re telling me?”
“Oh… I see what you mean.” Kyle nodded, wagging his finger in the air as he finally took the point. “You’re saying I should have told you that bit first.”
“It might have helped, yes.”
“Got it.”
She stared at him, waiting. “Well?”
“Oh. Oh, right. Her name was Maisie Fraser. I saw it on her license when the cop took it out.”
“That name is kind of familiar. There’s a Fraser family in town. I wonder if she’s related?”
“So do I,” Kyle said. “I must admit, it’s the little things like that that get me going. I suppose we could always go and pay the Frasers a visit tomorrow, just to help the police out.”
“Yes, I was thinking that, too.”
Miranda drank the rest of her tea while she used a piece of paper towel to wipe up what she’d spilled. She thought while she sipped. Another murder in Moonlight Bay. Kyle’s warning about trouble of an indescribable, unknown sort. It was like trouble was just drawn to her.
Those thoughts led Miranda to think about Josh Bates, and everything he had said about her Aunt Connie. She wondered if Josh was the only person who knew of her Aunt Connie’s abilities.
What else did he know about her and her aunt?
Thoughts of getting some rest slipped away as these others crowded her mind. Setting her empty cup aside she pushed away from the countertop.
“Hey, wait,” Kyle said. “Weren’t you going to sleep?”
“No, I’m not going to bed. Not now. I’m going out.”
“Going out? Going out where?” Kyle floated along behind her, obviously flustered.
“Well now,” she teased him, “if you’re my spirit guide, shouldn’t you already know what I’m planning?”
“Miranda. I’m a spirit guide, not a mind reader. I don’t do palms or tarot cards either. Tell me what’s going on. Do you have a plan?”
“Yes, I do.”
It didn’t take long to explain, either.
Chapter 5
“Are you sure this is such a good idea, Miranda?”
Kyle slid through the side of the car and into the passenger seat. Miranda was already at the wheel, starting the engine. She probably could have walked the short distance up the road but it was late and she was tired. A little drizzle had started up also since she’d been on the beach and she didn’t really feel like getting wet. “Yes,” she answered him. “I think this is a fantastic idea.”
“Any point in putting in my two cents?”
“Kyle, I want to get there before the police do. People always let something slip when they think they’re talking to someone who has no connection to the police.” Miranda buckled up and Kyle, quite comically, pretended to do the same. “Kyle, you are totally ridiculous.”
“I know,” Kyle agreed, grinning back at her. “But I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”
“That’s what you always say. Look, if Maisie Fraser was really thrown off the top of the cliffs then the family that lives in the house up there must know something. I’m just going to ask them a few questions. I want to hear what they have to say.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m naturally curious, of course,” she said with a smile.
“No, seriously Miranda. Do I need to remind you that you aren’t an actual detective, police officer, or junior Girl Guide?” He shook his head, looking out through the windshield. “Maybe you should be more concerned about Josh Bates and his questions about your aunt.”
She regarded him from the corner of her eye as she turned on the headlights. “Is this a spirit guide thing?”
“No, it’s a me not wanting you to join me here on the other side thing. That’s what this is.”
He was so serious all of a sudden. “Kyle, you’re always telling me that what I’m about to do is not a good idea.”
“That’s because it generally isn’t.”
“Well then I’m glad I have you for backup. You can be Gromit to my Wallace. Willow to my Buffy.”
“Robin to your Batman?” he said drily.
“Now you’re getting it.”
She drove out the end of the driveway and onto the street. While Ragged Rest enjoyed a certain amount of privacy because of its size, there were neighbors whose homes perched on those cliffs overlooking the beach. The next place down belonged to Deirdre Sims. There was a light on in the window, at this late hour, and she could imagine the middle aged woman staring out her windows at all the activity down the beach. She made a face at the big house as she passed. “Nosy!”
“Who’s nosy?” Kyle asked indignantly. “I’m not being nosy, Miranda, I’m being helpful. Spirit guide, remember? It’s what we do.”
“Oh, Kyle, I wasn’t calling you nosy.” She clucked her tongue, realizing her gaffe. “One of my neighbors likes to know every little detail of every little thing. I’m surprised you don’t remember her.”
“Well. Truthfully there’s a few things I’ve forgotten.”
“Other than the full reason why you came here, you mean.”
“Right,” he said genially. “Besides that.”
The smiled at each other, sharing a little humor in a very unfunny situation.
“So, I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this one, then?” Kyle asked.
“No, you’re not going to talk me out of it. Just like you’ve never talked me out of anything before.”
“I guess.”
“Don’t worry. I’m only going to pull the medium act if all else fails. And even then, I might not.” Miranda hadn’t really decided how she was going to explain showing up out of the blue to ask about a dead woman, but she definitely didn’t want anyone finding out she was psychic unless it was absolutely necessary. A trip to the looney bin was the last thing on her to-do list.
“Well, I think I should point out,” Kyle said, “that you aren’t acting. You actually are a medium.”
“I’m an author, Kyle,” she said, with a sigh. “I’m an author first and foremost and a medium somewhere way down the list. I just don’t want it coming first all the time.”
“I totally get it, Miranda, but just remember one thing. Okay?”
“Just one? Sure. What is it?”
“If you weren’t a medium, then you and I wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation. You’d be having this conversation all by yourself and I’d be watching you from afar, shouting at you, trying to get you to hear me.”
It struck Miranda just how true that was. She realized all over again how much it meant to her to have her friend back. Especially now that things had gotten chaotic and dangerous again. How could she ever survive without him by her side? When he moved on, Miranda had felt the pain of his dying all over again. She had been grieving these last months and she knew it.
Now things were better because he was here, and he was right. It was exactly because she was a psychic.
They came to the third house up the street, the one that would be situated right above the stretch of beach where Maisie Fraser had been found dead. A long driveway led back through a dark copse of trees, shadowed in the night.
Miranda stopped the car just off the street, staring at the lights in the windows on all three floors of the dwelling. She knew from driving by it any number of times before that it was a grand estate, but she had no idea of how old it was or who might have lived in it before the current occupants. It was the Wells family now. Not the friendliest of people. In fact, Miranda knew hardly anything about them.
There was something else about the house, too.
“What is it?” Kyle asked, once more picking up on her inner thoughts.
“This place… it looks just as old as all the places on the street, including Ragged Rest.”
“And?”
“I don’t know if it really is an old house,” Miranda said, squinting at it through the moonlight. “At least not all of it, at any rate. I just get the feeling there was something here before. A smaller place, maybe something more like a cottage or a… cabin, maybe.”
“Oh. This is one of your psychic things, isn’t it?”
“Maybe. It’s just a feeling.”
“You don’t like it?”
She shrugged. “I think I don’t like
the atmosphere. Like I said, it’s just a feeling. Let me ask you something else. Where do you think Maisie’s ghost is? Shouldn’t she be around here somewhere? Shouldn’t we have seen her on the beach?”
“Ghosts are funny things,” he started to explain.
“Oh? You don’t say? Funny strange, or funny ha-ha?”
He stuck his tongue out at her. “You know what I mean. There’s no telling when a dead person’s ghost is going to show up. Or if they’ll show up. Or if they’ll just stare right through you and disappear without so much as a how-do-you-do.”
“So she might have just moved on to the other side already?”
“Sure. We’ve seen spirits do that, remember. Or, she might show up in two weeks, or next year, wandering that beach.”
“Huh. Must not be easy being a ghost.”
“Ain’t easy being green, either, but people still do it.”
This time Miranda stuck her tongue out at him, and then started down the driveway again.
The headlights swept over the front of the place, over gabled windows and high peaked roofs. The white stones of the driveway crunched under the tires. Moths swarmed under the front porch light.
They had reached the front door and Miranda noted again how very large and imposing the place was now, in contrast to the feeling that she got that the soul of the place was really quite small. The juxtaposition of it made her skin crawl.
Raising a hand, she knocked loudly.
In no time at all, the door swung inwards and Miranda found herself face to face with a rather sour looking young woman. Her hair was dark, with a few gray strands at the temple so maybe she wasn’t quite that young after all, Miranda guessed. She was in a nightgown, a warm fuzzy robe wrapped tightly around her and cinched at her waist. Her eyes were dark and the way she squinted seemed more like a scowl.
“Who are you?” the woman snapped. Before Miranda could even get a word in edgewise, she waved a hand in front of her face. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Probably a friend of that Maisie Fraser woman, aren’t you? Well, I don’t know where she’s gone. Perhaps you should choose your friends more carefully. I don’t know if you know this, but Maisie Fraser is a dreadful person and I would be happy never to set eyes on her again. Now, go away.”