Mrs. Morris and the Ghost of Christmas Past

by Traci Wilton

  “Agreed.”

  He whirled a Christmas ornament in his palm. “Although he must have known that Vincent was sleeping with his ex-wife. That probably didn’t sit well.” The ball dropped to the armchair.

  “That’s true. So, is it possible that he did take from the till, as a payback to Vincent for having an affair with Linda? Maybe he wanted the restaurant to go bust?” She pushed her hair off her face. “But that wouldn’t help his situation either. The lottery win was a fortunate break that couldn’t have been planned.”

  Jack leaned against the love seat and crossed his arms. “I can’t see him taking money from the till—it would be too easy to track. From all accounts, David was a smart businessman—he’d run several successful restaurants in the past.”

  “Why would Vincent close the restaurant down? He kept saying that the business was in trouble, and yet it was busy every night.” She rubbed her temples, feeling a slight headache coming on. “Why? Where’s the missing piece?”

  “What does your detective say about all of this?”

  “Sam hasn’t told me anything.” Charlene hadn’t told Jack about her dinner with Sam, and didn’t plan on doing so. Why upset Jack for nothing? “I’m sure they have it narrowed down and might already know who the killer is. Can’t make an arrest until they prove it—you know that.”

  “Oh, poor Sam. It’s only been a week. Shouldn’t he have more time to solve a murder?” Jack chuckled.

  Charlene bristled at the jibe, knowing it came from a place of jealousy. But a ghost had no right to be jealous of a flesh and blood man. She wanted to jump to Sam’s defense, yet her relationship with Sam wasn’t going anywhere, not as long as she kept her ghostly roommate. Jack had given up eternity to be with her.

  “Sam is thorough. He’ll present an airtight case, when the time is right.” In the meantime, she would continue her own questioning.

  Jack pretended to yawn. “Maybe he’ll make the big announcement tomorrow night. Christmas Eve. I think he likes the drama, don’t you?”

  She ignored his comment. “I’ve got to go, Jack. The new guests will be here any minute. Then I’m going to call Linda and see if she’s free for coffee. Tori, for all of her wickedness, did rule out Linda and Kyle as suspects.” She’d had to check Tori’s story, and she’d called the neighbor, saying she’d heard that the motorcycle had been very loud and asking if they should have a noise ordinance—what time had she heard it? Eleven, the woman was sure, because the nightly news was on. But the lady wasn’t complaining. Linda was a good neighbor.

  “I’m sure you’re not interested in having coffee with Linda.” Jack brightened. “What are you hoping to learn?”

  “I just have a few questions about Vincent.” Charlene clarified her thoughts. “Linda knows him better than anyone. I want to get a feel for what kind of man he is.”

  “Good luck.” Jack turned his attention to the television. “I’ll wait here and catch the news.”

  She made sure to close her door tight behind her. Minnie and Avery were laughing as they descended the stairs, and it did Charlene’s heart good.

  “How’s the room looking?”

  “Man, that is one beautiful bedroom,” Avery said with a grin. “Minnie showed me how to arrange the flowers and hook the drapes so it exposes the view.”

  “Did you put out the welcome tray with wine and cheese?”

  “No, we ate it and drank the wine,” Avery smarted off.

  Minnie swayed exaggeratedly. “I think I had too much of that fine merlot.”

  “Very funny.” Charlene was delighted at how well the two of them got along and, like Jack, almost a little jealous. She wanted to have fun with Avery, too, and not do all the worrying.

  “Doorbell,” Minnie said, taking a step toward the door. “Want me to get it?”

  “You two drunks go to the kitchen. The lady of the house will greet her guests.” Head raised, she walked past them as regally as Silva.

  Opening the door, she put on her welcoming hostess expression. “Hello. You must be the Chilsons. Welcome to ‘Charlene’s.’ You flew in from San Diego? Nikki must be so excited!”

  The husband was perhaps in his late forties, lean and average height. His wife was a petite brunette, thin and tan, wearing skin-tight jeans, her hair pulled back in a single braid. Charlene hadn’t seen Nikki since the vet tech had helped her with Silva but didn’t recall a resemblance to either parent.

  “Yes, she’s called a few times already,” the man replied. “We’ll be meeting her for lunch.” He shook her hand. “I’m Tom, and my wife is Marlene.”

  “And I’m Charlene.” She shook their hands and led them in. “How was your flight?”

  “Fine—it seems odd to leave sunshine for snow, but Nikki loves it here,” Marlene told her. “Your place is just amazing. How long have you been here?”

  “Three months.”

  Her father left his chair in the living room and greeted the couple. “I’m Michael, Charlene’s dad. My wife and I are spending Christmas. You’ll meet her soon.”

  Minnie and Avery came out of the kitchen.

  “This is our fabulous chef and housekeeper, Minnie, and our delightful Avery, helping out for the holidays.”

  Avery grinned. “Nice to meet you. Can I take your bags to your room?”

  “That’s not necessary,” Tom said, not relinquishing his grip on the large suitcase. “It’s heavy, trust me.”

  “Okay.” Avery gestured to the stairs. “Follow me.”

  Charlene wondered if Tom hadn’t trusted the young girl with her spider tattoo and nose ring, or if the bag was really too heavy. She was so used to Avery by now that she might have overlooked the obvious.

  Marlene followed Avery up the stairs, commenting on the beautiful wooden banister heavily decked out in garland for the holidays. “It’s spectacular. The staircase alone blows me away. Like something out of Gone with the Wind. And the decorations are gorgeous.”

  “My husband, Will, did that,” Minnie said proudly.

  “Thanks for the warm welcome.” Tom shook Michael’s hand, then lifted the large bag and carried it up to the center floor. He looked down at the little group in the foyer. “This is some place you’ve got, Charlene. I bet it’s completely booked.”

  “Getting there,” she told him. “Just two singles left.”

  * * *

  After everyone was settled, Charlene drove to the hospital for a quick coffee with Linda. She parked in the visitor’s parking lot and entered the main lobby, asking directions to the cafeteria from the middle-aged man at the front desk.

  She followed the corridor around a few bends and entered, looking for a glimpse of Linda. The room was crowded with visitors and hospital staff, but being lunch hour that was no big surprise. The nurse had agreed to meet her, wondering if Charlene had any new information.

  Charlene had told her no, but that she knew Sam Holden, the detective on the case, and expected a break very soon. Well, that part was true. A lot depended on Linda’s answers.

  After standing in line to pay for her coffee and bottle of water, she grabbed an available seat near the entrance and waved at Linda the moment she walked through the door.

  Linda nodded at her, straightened her shoulders, and marched over. “I haven’t got much time. What is it you wanted to speak with me about?”

  “Can you sit for a minute? Please? I promise it won’t take long.”

  Scowling, Linda reluctantly sat down. “If it’s about Bella’s closing, I assure you I don’t know more than you. Vincent’s been on a rampage lately, but he won’t talk to me about any of this. I had no idea it was going to happen.”

  “I’m so sorry, Linda. How’s Kyle doing?”

  “As well as can be expected.” She wet her bottom lip and wrung her hands in her lap. “We’d both like to see an end to this, and whoever is responsible put away.”

  “Of course you would. I know I felt the same after Jared’s death. It helped some, but nothing can
bring him back.” She uncapped her water and took a sip. “Sorry. It’s still hard to talk about. Only two years.”

  Linda relaxed and covered Charlene’s hand with her own. “Yes, you know what we’re going through—only for you it was much, much worse. David and I hadn’t been friendly the last few years. Kyle got a card from his dad at Christmas and his birthday, and David took him shopping before he died, but they argued about Tori, and so Kyle was home early.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought he was a better person than that.” Charlene stirred her coffee with a plastic stir stick, wondering how to ask. “Jessica came to the B and B this morning. She not only told me Vincent was closing the restaurant, but that David had been taking money from the till. That surprises me. Is that the David you know?”

  “No.” Linda’s fingers trembled as she grabbed for a paper napkin. She wiped her palms, her cheeks sickly pale. “No, it isn’t. He wasn’t fair to us, but he did the best he could, I suppose. He paid what he was required to pay and not a penny more. I honestly believe he would have if that nasty wife of his wasn’t a greedy, money-hungry . . .”

  “I know. Tori is all that and more. I don’t think I’ve ever met such a heartless woman.” Charlene’s mouth twisted in a half smile. “She’s like a cold-blooded serpent that would bite your head off just because she could.”

  “Wow.” Linda sank back in her plastic chair. “You really don’t like her.”

  They both laughed. “I really don’t.” Charlene tasted her coffee. “Not bad.”

  Linda checked her watch and stood up. “I probably should go.”

  “Just one more minute, please.”

  The nurse’s eyes held shadows. “What is it?”

  “Linda, are you safe? You could be in danger.”

  She shook her head, understanding what Charlene implied. “No, Vincent would never hurt me. I don’t think he would have hurt David either, but if he thinks David was stealing from him, I’m not so sure.”

  “His temper?”

  Linda covered her mouth with her fingers. “I’ve probably said too much. Please don’t tell the detective about Vincent. He helped me through a difficult time and we’ve had some fun together. But, I don’t like the anger I see in him now. He didn’t used to be like this.” She jammed her hands into her scrub pockets. “I don’t know what his problem is, but he’s spending a lot of time in the casino lately. Maybe it’s an escape. When he wins? Things are great. But if he loses—which seems to be happening a lot—he gets all worked up. Shouting, breaking things.”

  “Linda . . .”

  “Kyle doesn’t want him coming around anymore. I usually go over to his place in Boston instead—it’s only thirty minutes away. More often than not, I don’t bother.” Linda shrugged.

  “Thanks for talking with me—please, just be careful, okay?”

  “You too.” Linda held her gaze, then hurried out of the cafeteria, the large doors swinging behind her.

  Had that been a warning? Charlene tossed the coffee and headed down the slick corridors toward the parking lot in the rear of the building. Someone close to David had killed him. That someone wouldn’t like her asking questions.

  The question was, who?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Charlene left the hospital with Vincent on her mind. Why was Linda willing to accept the status quo?

  The nurse was attractive, smart, and self-sufficient . . . maybe she got what she wanted from Vincent, a sometimes-companion, and that was enough. She seemed to be an involved mom who loved her son and put him first.

  How did Vincent feel about that?

  On the pretext of bringing some of her dad’s favorite soup back to the house, she decided to drop in and see how things were going at Bella’s. She knew from the auction that the restaurant planned to be closed Christmas Day.

  The parking lot to Bella’s was full when she arrived. Why wouldn’t Vincent want to find another manager and keep the money coming in? At least throughout the season, when things were busy.

  Charlene lucked out with a space. She scanned the vehicles in the parking lot for what Vincent might drive. He’d left early that night, furious with David. Why hadn’t David handed his share over, since he no longer needed the money? Ten million was a lot of cash to start over with. And to kill for.

  Linda had mentioned Vincent’s recent temperament and being quick to blow a fuse. Had he been mad enough to leave, then came back to talk things over, or worse, to wait for David and run him down? But that would be a dangerous plan. Tori would likely be with him. Other diners might see. Vincent wasn’t a fool.

  Freddy had mentioned something dark barreling toward him but had blamed the vision on the gin he’d been drinking—she believed he hadn’t killed David, but he’d been there all right. It was the only explanation for David seeing Doug’s ghost—she’d witnessed the horror on David’s face before he ran outside.

  Her head hurt thinking about it. Tomorrow was David’s service, and the more time that passed, the harder it would be to find David’s killer. Charlene opened the door; the restaurant was outwardly festive with an underlying somber tone.

  Laura greeted her from the podium, wearing a crisp white shirt, black slacks, and Christmas tree earrings. “Welcome, Charlene,” she said, and looked behind her.

  “Just me. I’m not eating, but I’d like two quarts of pasta fagioli to go. I heard the news that Bella’s is closing New Year’s Eve?”

  Laura gestured to the dining room. “We’ve never been busier. I don’t know what Vincent’s thinking. He called in some employees from his other restaurant to help out so at least we’re decently staffed. Tomorrow will be twelve-hour days for some of them. Not me. I’m off at two, and I am very tempted to not come back.” She sniffed. “I will, because I said I would, but . . .” She shrugged and left the podium. “Let me go get your soup.”

  “Thank you.”

  Charlene waited until Laura had disappeared into the kitchen, the door swinging closed behind her, and beelined for Vincent’s office.

  She knocked and he answered, his cheeks ruddy, his gray mustache untrimmed. He didn’t look so good.

  “Hi! I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry about the restaurant closing.”

  Vincent yanked her inside and slammed the door. “That’s been spreading like wildfire. How did you hear?”

  “Jessica told me. I’m going to miss this place. A lot of people will.”

  He paced the office, the air around him vibrating with nervous energy. Charlene backed up and glanced across his desk—like before, it was piled high with receipts and manila folders.

  Two purple poker chips were barely visible beneath the mess. Linda was concerned about his gambling problem, saying he was losing heavily lately. He was a man on a downward slide.

  “Bella’s is busted.” Vincent wiped his face with his palm.

  “Business ebbs and flows,” she said. “Maybe if you give it time . . .”

  “The flow ain’t strong enough to keep this ship afloat.” He sat down with a squeak of springs on his office chair and opened the drawer of his desk. He rifled through the contents until he pulled out a wrapped cigarillo.

  “Are you okay, Vincent? This has to be stressful.”

  “I’m fine, fine.”

  With his red eyes and unkempt appearance, he seemed far from fine. Was guilt eating at him? Charlene said a prayer of thanks when Vincent pulled a lighter and his keys from his front pocket—a silver Ford key fob.

  Freddy had told her that the black shadow had come toward him, across the street from Bella’s parking lot. “Any chance you’ll change your mind? Lease it out, or hire someone to manage it?”

  He ripped off the wrapper of the cigarillo and a vanilla cherry scent rose toward her. He started to light the end, but then thought better of it and dropped the lighter to the desktop. “’Cause that worked out so well last time?” Vincent sneered before chomping on the end. “No, I’m done with Bella’s. Salem too.”

  Her i
ntuition screamed that Vincent was not being honest. “Will you go to David’s service tomorrow? I talked to Freddy and he’s go—”

  “That guy’s a washout.”

  “He’s dying.”

  Vincent scrubbed his palm along his bristly jaw. “Yeah, I know. He told me that David was going to help him out. Not sure what he meant by that. He’s got liver cancer—if he thought David would give him part of his, he’s crazy.”

  He shuffled the papers around on the desk and then dropped them, overwhelmed.

  “Have you talked to Tori about buying this place?”

  Vincent’s brow tightened. “That piece of work told me to kiss her sweet derriere. I’m turning it all over to my lawyers. It won’t be the first time I’ve filed bankruptcy.” He sat back and exhaled, protruding his round stomach. “It’s the risk of running a restaurant.”

  Charlene nodded, but didn’t agree. Bella’s had prospered under David’s management, according to Jessica. Why was it only now—after David’s death—that Vincent was openly accusing him of stealing?

  She could think of only one really good reason—to cover his own theft.

  Maybe David had discovered Vincent’s dipping into the pot. That might explain why David hadn’t handed over the deed. That would sure piss off a man who thought he was getting away with something.

  A man with a temper, and a gambling addiction.

  What if he’d decided to kill David in order to cover his losses? Charlene knew she was right—but now what? She would need proof... her gaze was drawn to the poker chips. But what would that prove exactly, other than the fact he liked to gamble? It wasn’t a crime.

  A knock sounded on the office door and Vincent hollered, “Come in!”

  Laura entered, a brown paper bag in her hands. “Oh, there you are, Charlene. Here’s your soup. I added some breadsticks.”

  “Wonderful!”

  Laura waited expectantly, and Vincent gave her the eye.

  Charlene accepted the bag and started to back out. “Thanks, Laura. Bye, Vincent.”