by Traci Wilton
“What are you smiling at?” Sam shrugged off his coat and placed it beside him on the wooden bench.
“My fascination for the sea. Maybe I was a mermaid in an earlier life.”
“Yeah? You’d look good with one of those fanned tails. You know they don’t wear shirts?” He used two fingers to smooth his mustache, his eyes steady on hers.
Her pulse jumped into another gear. “Well, the old man in the sea was probably the only one who saw me.” She grinned. “In this day and age, I could probably sue him for being a peeping tom. Right?”
He laughed, so she kept going. “What about you? What past life do you imagine yourself in?”
The conversation was interrupted as Michelle arrived with the wine. She had two individual six-ounce carafes and poured a little into Charlene’s glass. Charlene tasted the dark red and then pronounced it delicious.
The waitress filled both glasses and said she’d be right back to tell them the specials.
They toasted and both took a sip. “Excellent. Thanks, Sam.”
“You’re most welcome.”
“Okay, back to our previous lives, what were you?” she asked, sliding her fingers up and down the stem of her glass.
“That’s easy.” He leaned back, puffed up his chest, and put on a bad-guy face. “I was either a bandito or a bootlegger. Maybe a highwayman.”
She laughed, shaking a finger. “No way! You were a cowboy. Riding your horse all day, camping out with a can of beans and a mat, your boots on the hard ground where you rested your head. A manly man, didn’t need a woman, just driving the steers, as you rode Rusty, your chestnut horse.”
“Sounds like a lonely life to me. And I hate rattlesnakes.”
“No, you didn’t!” She teased him to make him smile. “You made your boots out of their skin and ate their innards in your stew. That’s what good cowboys do.”
“Okay.” He put up his hand. “Enough. You’re going to ruin my appetite.”
Sharon greeted them at the table. “Well, isn’t this a pretty sight? Two of my favorite people. How are you both doing? Your wine okay?”
“Good, thanks,” Sam answered. “Caught Charlene off guard and got her to agree to dinner with me.”
“We’ll have to make it special, then, won’t we?” Sharon was one of the first people Charlene had met when coming to town, and she had come to Charlene’s home for the grand opening. They were becoming friends—slow but sure.
“I also came here to see you,” Charlene said, setting down her wine. “You may have heard that I’m trying to raise money for Felicity House. Since, well, you know.” Sharon and her husband, John, had been at the auction that night. They’d shared the tragedy of not only David’s death, but Tori’s selfishness.
“I already donated a thousand dollars. I can do another hundred, though.” Sharon put a hand on her hip and looked at Sam. “It’s a good thing you’re doing after what that louse Tori did. I overheard my waitresses talking—she’s moving?”
Sam shrugged, saying nothing, giving nothing away.
“Can’t wait to see the last of her,” Sharon said decisively. “We have some good people in this town, and we don’t need the likes of her.”
“Thanks, Sharon. You can either give me a check to bring to Alice or send one directly to her. It doesn’t have to be much. Figure if we can get a few hundred businesses chipping in, we can raise a substantial amount of money. Twenty or thirty thousand at least.”
Sam looked impressed. “How much is everyone donating?” he asked.
“A hundred dollars each can go a long way if we can get enough people on board.” Charlene was used to working as a team to get things accomplished, which was why she’d agreed for her mom to do the cold calls.
“I’ll speak with a few of the divisions around here and see if we can come up with something. I’ll hit up the firefighters too. They’re big when it comes to collecting for kids.”
“Sam. That’s awesome. I know most people have already given for the year, but any bit helps. Thank you so much.”
“All you had to do was ask.”
Sharon’s mouth twitched and she cleared her throat. “Not sure if you ordered or not, but we have a lobster special. We can prepare it any way you like.”
“I don’t think we have time,” she said regretfully. “On the other hand, I could give my parents a call and let them know I’ll be another hour.”
Sam nodded his approval. “I’ll have mine steamed, with garlic butter sauce.”
“Same for me.”
“I’ll put the order in and tell them to get it ready, pronto.” Sharon brushed a strand of red hair off her flushed face. “I’ll get that check made out to Felicity House right now, Charlene. You’re a welcome addition to this town.”
“Thanks.” She savored the surge of happiness that comment brought and shared a warm smile with Sam.
“I bet Sam thinks so too.” Sharon bumped her hip against Sam’s chair. “Ain’t that true, Sam?”
“Why are you women conspiring against me?” He shook his head. “First, Charlene thinks I went around skinning snakes in my first life, and now you’re putting wicked thoughts into her head.”
“Skinning snakes? I’d love to hear that one.”
“No, you wouldn’t, trust me.” Sam was looking at Charlene again, and she quickly took a sip of water. Was it hot in the restaurant?
“Okay, you two have fun.” Sharon’s cheeks turned pink. “And I’ll get to work.”
After Sharon left, Charlene sat back, wondering if she dared ask about the investigation. Let it go, she told herself. For one hour she could forget her parents, her personal obligations, and banish all thoughts of the hit-and-run driver.
Sam deserved more than a mere hour and so did she.
“I’ll just step outside and call Mom and Dad.” She touched his shoulder as she passed.
“I’ll be counting the minutes,” he responded with a wink.
Dang it, he was cute.
She stood just inside the door, as it was freezing cold, and told her parents she’d be home around seven. “Have dinner without me. I’m with Sam,” she told her mom, knowing that would make her happy. She only hoped her mother wouldn’t start planning a wedding.
“Oh, take your time, dear. He’s a lovely man. Wasn’t very polite at the station, but away from the office he’s actually very charming. Perhaps he’ll tell you what’s going on with the investigation. I’m surprised they haven’t already got that Tori woman behind bars. Zane too. It’s clearly a crime of passion.”
After what she’d learned from Freddy, her emotions were very mixed on David at the moment. “Or greed, Mother. There’s always that.”
“True. Well, your greedy dad ate the rest of the chili for lunch, so we’ll find something else. No shortage of food. We’ll save the ribs; my stomach couldn’t handle them tonight.”
Charlene could hear her father in the background, telling her to mind her own business, and she smiled.
When she returned to the table, Sam stood and helped her in her seat. He was such a gentleman that she wished she could give him more of herself, but as long as Jack remained a ghostly presence in her home, this was all it could be.
She sipped her wine and told him about the conversation. “My mom asked why you haven’t got Tori and Zane locked up. You know that she always knows best. She’s announced it’s a crime of passion.” Charlene rolled her eyes. “So there. Case closed.”
“Thank heavens. I was getting worried that it would never get solved.” He eyed her sternly. “You’re not bringing this up hoping that I’ll tell you something, are you?”
“Me?” She gave an exaggerated laugh of surprise. “No way. Wouldn’t even enter my head.” Of course, she’d hoped, but he wasn’t having it.
“That’s good, because I want that pretty head of yours thinking about succulent lobster dripping in sweet butter sauce, and oh! Here it is.”
Michelle had come up from behind her with a serv
ing cart. She placed the utensils on the table, two little pots of liquid joy, a bowl for the shells in the middle, and two huge platters of pre-cracked lobster. Broccoli and jasmine rice were side dishes to share.
“Would you like a lobster bib too?” Michelle tied one around Sam’s neck.
“Sure. I might make a mess, but I don’t care.”
After she gave Charlene a matching bib, Michelle pulled out a check from her side pocket. “Here, this is from Sharon. She also told me not to put the lobsters on the bill, and to charge you for only the wine.”
“That’s not necessary,” Sam said, eyeing the food. “These lobsters are huge. Cracked even.”
“Tell Sharon, thank you very much,” Charlene said. “Both for the generous check and the lobsters.”
After the waitress left, they toasted again. “At this rate, we’ll need to eat here more often,” she said with a smile.
“I like the sound of that.”
“So do I.”
It took them a good half hour to work their way through the delicious meal and finish their water and wine. It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed herself this much.
They’d chatted about his sister and her husband, who lived in California and were already planning a trip back to Salem this spring. They were going to stay with her, and she looked forward to their visit. Jim was a firefighter, Sydney a nurse, and she felt as though they were almost friends.
When it was time to go, he paid the bill, gave a generous tip, and walked her to her car. She turned to face him. “Sam. It was an amazing night. Thank you so much. I needed that.”
He took hold of her arms and before she could resist, he kissed her. It was a quick kiss, but it zinged right through her.
“Good night,” he said, with a hint of a smile. He opened the door for her and waited until she was in, the car engine running; then he turned and walked away.
Charlene sat in the car for a few minutes, wishing he would allow her to help with the case. If he was open to discussing the file, to solving this mystery together, well, she’d be able to enjoy his company more often. It wasn’t just curiosity that drove her—she honestly believed she had a knack for discovering the truth. After all, she’d helped solve Jack’s murder, and that of a very unfortunate young witch.
She had a short list on who she thought might have killed David, and she would go through it, name by name.
Sleuthing may be her third career.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Charlene drove home from dinner with Sam in a much better mood than she’d been in since David’s death.
Sam’s kiss had been chaste compared with the ones they’d shared in her dreams, his firm mouth flavored with butter. She stopped at a red light and touched her lower lip. Life was short, she knew that better than most. It was important to live in the now.
With a shiver, she eyed her empty backseat. “I would not want you haunting me, Jared—your memories are enough.” Poor Freddy, with Doug’s specter always with him. What would it be like if Jack’s presence was a constant? She might be driven to drink herself.
Home once more, she visited with her parents until they went to bed at ten, her mom feeling better after the peppermint tea. The Garcias had already retired for the night, though the occasional giggle drifted down through the vents. Gary was still out with his family, and the Chilsons would arrive in the morning.
Satisfied that all was well in her bed-and-breakfast world, she turned on the television in her suite. “Jack?” she called in a whisper.
With a cold pop of air, his apparition slowly manifested to full clarity beside her as she stood behind the love seat. “Brr. Jack, Freddy Ferguson claims to be haunted by Doug, the kid who got killed at Stony Brook—and David was driving—he set Freddy up.” Her nose stung from the chill and she rubbed it. “I just don’t know what to think. How could David do such a thing?”
Jack glowered. “Perfect motive. Did Freddy kill David out of revenge, after all this time?”
“The pathetic man doesn’t even own a car—he’s dying. Liver cancer. He’s here in Salem to forgive David for lying and sending him to jail. If anything, David should have tried to kill Freddy to cover up his secret.”
“That’s maudlin. How do you know if he’s telling the truth?”
Charlene twisted her long hair off her neck. “Freddy had a scar at the right side of his temple, from being on the passenger side of the car when it hit the tree. Said over and over that David was his best friend, no matter what. It’s so sad.” Sober all of those years, until faced with a hard truth. She couldn’t blame him for wanting something to numb the pain. “He kept looking around, talking to himself, saying he was haunted by Doug’s ghost. I tried to see it, but I couldn’t.”
Ghosts and spirits had rules, supposedly, but Charlene had only ever seen Jack and hadn’t believed in the paranormal until then. Jack didn’t fit into the categories in the books. Ghosts were supposed to be shades of humans replaying an episode in time, without thought, while spirits had ill intent. Jack was just Jack.
“I’ve only ever been aware of me,” he said.
Such a lonely existence.
“I feel awful for Freddy, but there isn’t anything I can do. I hate that.” She eyed Jack. “Is there a cure for liver cancer?”
“I would have to see his labs before commenting, Charlene. I was watching a documentary on stem cells that make regenerating anything seem possible, but that takes money, even with good insurance.”
“I wonder if he’d hoped David would help him? I guess Freddy asked Tori if David had anything for him.”
“We’ll never know.” Jack rubbed the back of his head.
“Let me do some checking—there were pictures of him online from Stony Brook with short hair, for football.” She sat before her narrow desk and opened her laptop.
“What are you looking for?”
“I just want to make sure that he didn’t have a scar before the accident, to see if Freddy is telling the truth.”
She quickly found the picture she was looking for and zoomed in on Freddy’s forehead and temple. “Nothing, Jack.”
Jack leaned over her shoulder. “What do you plan on comparing it with?”
“His mug shot from the night he was arrested—the county will have that on record, won’t it?”
“Clever, Charlene.” He made to pat her shoulder and her arm broke out in goose bumps.
Ten minutes later, she’d pulled up a bleary-eyed photo of Freddy Ferguson, a gash on the right side of his temple. “He was telling the truth.”
“How awful for him,” Jack said.
Depressed, Charlene closed her laptop and picked up Silva, who had been dozing on the love seat. “I’m exhausted. Tomorrow is another long day. Night, Jack.”
“Good night, Charlene. Good job.”
So why did she feel so sad?
The next morning, Charlene woke up to cat whiskers on her cheek as Silva purred and tried to make herself a scarf around Charlene’s throat.
Ugh. Cat breath. She laughed and set Silva aside. “Morning, fur-baby. We have got to get you some mint.”
Silva swiped her tail from side to side from the center of Charlene’s bed, blinking gorgeous eyes as if unaffected by the world around her.
“Lucky cat,” she murmured.
Charlene dressed for a day of errands in black jeans and a red, black, and green Christmas sweater; red ornaments for earrings; and her hair brushed back into a high ponytail. Her hazel eyes glittered, and she touched her mouth with a fingertip before quickly turning away.
She opened the door from her living suite to the kitchen and breathed in, checking the time on the stove clock. Eight. “Minnie—I wasn’t sure you’d be here today. How’re the grandkids?”
“Better, thank you. Nothing my homemade chicken soup can’t tackle. Coffee’s ready, and I’ll warm up the coffee cake.” Her rounded cheeks plumped as she smiled. “You look wonderful this morning.”
“Thank
you.” For some reason, she thought of Sam’s kiss and took a sip of coffee to hide her face.
“Do we have Avery today?”
“Yes, I am going to pick her up—but I’ll leave a bit early to drop off some checks for Alice at Felicity House.”
Charlene leaned back against the kitchen counter to enjoy her coffee. That stuff at Whistler’s Keg had been a crime against coffeemakers everywhere. The pot probably hadn’t been cleaned in years.
Minnie tied on her green half apron. “Have they found out who ran over David?”
“Not yet.” She didn’t have the heart to share David’s secret shame.
“They will,” Minnie declared. “Tomorrow it will have been a week.”
“I know . . .” Charlene feared that whoever had actually done it might have had a good reason, if there was such a thing. She blew on her coffee to cool it before taking another drink. “This is the calm before the storm. I can’t believe tomorrow is Christmas Eve already.” She brought her purse to the kitchen table and counted the checks and cash in her little brown envelope.
Minnie handed over a fifty. “As you said, every little bit counts.”
“Thank you very much. On that note, I’ll get out of here and come back with reinforcements.”
Minnie laughed. “I hope Avery sticks around, Charlene. She’s a sweetheart underneath all of that wild hair and makeup.”
“Yes, she is.”
Charlene poured herself a to-go cup and headed out the door, driving straight to the Felicity House office. Luckily, the light was on inside. She’d worried that she might have to make a second trip, having forgotten that the office hours started at ten.
She parked and raced up the four steps to the porch and knocked on the door. Alice let her in, worry around her eyes. She was dressed in another awful sweater, this time of Santa stuck in the chimney with his legs in the air.
“Charlene! Good morning.”
“Good morning. Happy Christmas Eve eve.”
“Don’t say that—I’m not ready. We had a Christmas wrapping party last night, and I think each of the kids got something special—but they need so much more. Socks and underwear aren’t all that special, are they? Charlene, the stocking stuffers you donated will be perfect additions.”