Decadent Demise

by Stephanie Damore

  The kitchen had started to warm nicely, but the temperature was now plummeting with two ghosts in my presence. I got to work putting on the coffee pot. "What happened tonight?" I asked as a way to segue into the conversation.

  Edward rubbed his hands together as if he was chilled himself. He took a few minutes to gather his thoughts. I gave him all the time he needed.

  "I'm not sure, honestly. I've never had anything like this happen. I think … I think I was just driving, and then—" Edward looked to the distance as if trying to recall the scene. He came up empty. "I don't know. The next thing I remember, there's a guy talking to me, only he wasn't a guy. I mean, I could see right through him. I can't explain it. This is just absolutely ridiculous!"

  Edward seemed disgusted with himself. "Anyway, I just had to get away from him. He wasn't right. He knew my name and he just kept running after me, calling for me. I had to escape." He looked at me to see how harshly I would judge him. Luckily for him, I wasn't like that.

  I nodded in understanding. "You were in a car accident," I said tentatively.

  "What are you talking about? I never get into accidents. I am a perfect driver with an impeccable driving record. I would never do such a reckless thing like get in an accident, I swear."

  "Mr. Slayden, there’s about six inches of snow out there right now. The roads are slicker than an ice rink. Even those of us who are used to driving in these conditions get in an accident once in a while." I was pretty sure that's why they were called accidents, but I didn't say that.

  Edward scowled. "My Mercedes is going to be totaled. How much is this going to cost me? Did I get a ticket? It doesn't matter. My lawyer will get me out of it. What time is it? I need to call him." Edward looked down at his smart watch. I wondered if it still told the correct time.

  I rubbed my head in exhaustion. I probably should've had a cup of coffee before attempting to have this conversation.

  I took a deep breath before continuing. "You see, the thing is, Mr. Slayden, that man who was trying to talk to you, well, he was my husband."

  Edward shook his head. "No, you're not married. I know you're not. I checked it out."

  "You ran a background check on me?" I asked incredulously.

  "Of course I did."

  I scoffed at the idea.

  "It’s called being smart. I run a background check on everyone I plan on doing business with. I had to know what kind of assets you had and what type of family I was working with. It's not personal, it's business. London Manor will be mine."

  "Sorry, buddy, that's never going to happen," I said. It was true now more than ever.

  "Don't sound so confident. I know for a fact you just inherited it from your deceased husband's grandmother." At the mention of the words "deceased husband," a lightbulb must have gone off in Edward's head because he quickly stopped ranting and thought his words through.

  "Yes, my husband. He is deceased, but he is still very much a presence in my life," I said.

  Nick just could not resist manifesting right then and there.

  "Boo!" he said with a wicked grin.

  Edward jumped back.

  I rolled my eyes.

  "Nick London, this is Edward Slayden. Edward, this is my husband, Nick."

  I would say that Edward turned as white as a ghost, but he already was one.

  "I...but...I...It's just..." Edward continued to stammer.

  "I'm not sure exactly what happened down the street, but you obviously didn't survive it," I pointed out.

  "That's impossible. I'm standing right here, right now, talking to you and you're talking back to me."

  "That's because she can see ghosts. Pretty impressive, isn't it?" Nick said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

  Edward stared back at me with an open mouth.

  "Thanks, hon," I said to Nick before turning my comments to Edward. "I know it's a shock, but just take some time to process it. Once you come to terms with what has happened, I'm told a lovely light will make itself known to you, and you can just go and head right on up." I pointed to the ceiling. Edward and Nick looked unsure of that.

  Nick cleared his throat. "Or perhaps down," he added.

  I eyed my husband. "Totally not helpful," I said.

  "What? I heard purgatory is lovely this time of year." Nick was having way too much fun with this. I knew the appeal, given how downright unpleasant Edward was. Nick had been forced to remain unheard while Edward constantly insulted and propositioned me. Financially that is. Thank goodness, Edward had never made a romantic pass toward me. I shuddered at the prospect. Regardless, Nick was far too happy to be heard now.

  "Can I talk to you for a moment?" I said to my husband rather tersely. That sure wiped the smile off his face.

  We left Edward in the kitchen and jogged up to the top of the stairs into my apartment kitchen. Milo sauntered out and performed a rather impressive stretch, completing a perfect downward-facing dog before sitting up and meowing expectantly for me to fill his food bowl. I talked to Nick while getting Milo's kibble.

  "We have got to get him to cross over, and right now, you're not helping."

  "Since when do you care about Edward Slayden?"

  "Since he's haunting my bakery at the moment. Do you think he's going to go away or give us any peace while he's still here on earth? I don't."

  Nick seemed to think about it for a minute before coming to the same conclusion. "Ugh, I suppose you're right. Not that he deserves any help."

  "Think of it as helping me." I flashed a winning smile. "So, the question is how do we get the big bright light to appear and beam him on up?"

  Nick thought about it for a minute.

  "Well, usually the person just has to be willing to accept death and be at peace with it to trigger the big event."

  "Okay, so the question becomes how do we make Edward except his death and be at peace with it?" Even as I said those words, I knew that it would be no easy task. The man had been full of life and not in a good way. He had been so used to using his money to control the situation and get his own way that it would be hard for him to accept that money wouldn't get him anywhere in the afterlife—but that is just what he would have to do.

  Not feeling a whole heck of a lot better but happy to at least have Nick's head in the game, I made my way back downstairs, this time with Milo in my arms. I deposited him on his favorite last step and walked into the kitchen, fully expecting to see Edward still standing there.

  But he wasn't.

  "Well, maybe the problem is solved," Nick said hopefully. I would have loved to believe that, but I highly doubted that was the case.

  "You want me to track him down, don't you?" Nick asked.

  "Just see if he's hanging around here somewhere—please?"

  "Okay, I will, but only because I love you."

  "I love you too, babe. Thanks. I'm going to get to work here."

  Nick sniffed at the air. "Man, I do miss Thanksgiving."

  "I hear you, and I feel for you."

  Nick often said that the one thing that bothered him the most about being dead was not being able to eat. As a woman who ran a bakery and loved to sample a little bit of everything, I could absolutely relate. Which is why I had no intention of ever being a ghost.

  Ellen came in and slapped her leather gloves down on the counter with a thwack. Then she untangled her scarf and practically choked the coat rack with it before aggressively hanging up her coat.

  "What in the world's the matter?" I asked her.

  "I just can't believe it. Even after that man's death, they're still going through with the project. I have until Friday night to be out." Ellen's eyes looked teary.

  "This Friday?" I asked.

  "At the stroke of midnight, my apartment is no longer my own. Honestly, I thought we'd be able to stall them."

  "We?" I wasn't following.

  "The Concerned Community Pact."

  "I didn't know there was one," I replied.

  "A group of the artists
got together and formed the group to try to appeal Slayden's project, but it looks like nothing is going to stop it." At that, a tear did fall down Ellen's cheek.

  "Oh, Ellen, I'm so sorry." I gave my second mom a squeeze around the shoulders. "Don't worry, it'll be all right," I replied, even though at that moment I didn't see how.

  "I just hate that man and everything he's done to our community." Ellen wiped the tears off her face with her fingertips.

  I cleared my throat rather loudly.

  "He’s here, isn't he?" Ellen said, eyes narrowing.

  I nodded and pointed next to the kitchen sink, where Edward's orb was floating around. His was green, of course—the color of money. Nick had found him raising Cain at the crime scene and dragged him back here for me to babysit. I looked at the clock, wondering exactly when Nick was planning to rejoin us as well.

  "Well, isn't that just a kicker. Can't get rid of the jerk, even after he dies." My eyes widened at Ellen's comment. She often spoke her mind, but her thoughts were usually much more pleasant.

  The oven timer buzzed, and I moved to take out another round of cranberry orange muffins. These little gems were fall in a muffin tin. Soft and buttery, they were heavy on flavor thanks to being chock full of cranberries and topped with a sweet orange glaze. No wonder I sold out of them daily. The aroma filled the bakery, mixing with the rest of the delightful scents of fresh-baked pies, tarts, and cookies.

  "It's only going to get busier," Ellen said while she tied on her apron.

  "I know, I know. Thank goodness Amelia starts today."

  Ellen took a tray of tarts from the cooling rack and walked out front to restock the pastry counter.

  Edward manifested next to me.

  "I swear, you'd think this village had never heard of growth." Edward threw his hands up in the air. "I was doing you all a favor. I've never had to deal with so many simpletons in my life."

  "Excuse me? Simpletons? Ellen was right. You've been destroying our community. The people who live over at Village Square? They don't have the money to find another place to live.” I was on a roll now. “Do you know how expensive it is to rent an apartment? You usually need a security deposit, plus first month's and sometimes last month's rent. Easily a thousand dollars. People like Ellen are on a fixed income—not to mention our artist community , which you totally just threw out of their studio."

  Edward scoffed at the idea. "Studio? That's what they called it? It was filthy. Plus they weren't even paying rent. Ha! Squatters is what they were."

  "It doesn't matter. Their art fills our galleries and draws in tourists."

  "Now don't you talk to me about drawing in tourists. I know all about bringing in visitors. My vision for Bleu Clair Bay was grand. The potential for this village is incredible."

  "We don't want to be grand. We're happy with the way Bleu Claire Bay is."

  Edward huffed at that.

  In the next moment, Amelia walked in the front door. It was only twenty after seven. I was impressed.

  "Oh my goodness, did you guys hear?" Amelia said as she and Ellen joined us in the kitchen. "That Edward guy died last night." At the mention of his name, Edward perked up.

  Ellen scowled. "It just goes to show you how short life really is," she replied. Her response was subdued compared to earlier.

  "Yeah, it's like a total bummer. For being an old dude, he was pretty cute."

  I couldn't help chuckling at Amelia's comment. The look on Edward's face was priceless. He couldn't have been much over forty, if that, but to a young woman like Amelia, he seemed ancient.

  "Did you hear what happened?" I asked. Edward was still vague on the details.

  "Road curved right. He went straight." Amelia whistled while using her hand to demonstrate a car falling off a cliff. "Right into Lake Michigan."

  I cringed. Even Edward seemed alarmed, judging by the way his eyes bugged out. Ellen looked away abruptly.

  "Well, may he rest in peace." It was all I could say, even though I knew he wasn't.

  We probably would've continued chit chatting if customers hadn't started pouring in.

  "I'm on it," Amelia said as the bakery bell chimed out front.

  "I'll go with her," Ellen replied, leaving me to get back to baking.

  4

  Amelia was a godsend. The fact that she was an experienced waitress was just the icing on the cake. Amelia refilled coffee cups, cleared tables, and greeted everyone with a smile while Ellen managed the till and I kept the baked goods stocked and the coffee pots full. We were a well-oiled machine, and it was only our first day working together.

  Around nine o'clock, when there wasn't a line, Amelia joined me in the kitchen. I was about to start mixing up the last batch of pumpkin pie filling.

  Milo was perched on his favorite spot. He looked up at her when she entered.

  "Who's this little fellow?" Amelia asked, walking over to my brown tabby.

  Milo looked up at Amelia without lifting his head.

  "That's Milo. He's our resident kitty. Just don't let my sister know."

  Amelia looked confused.

  "She's a deputy and is mighty fond of the rules."

  "Oh," Amelia replied. I still wasn't sure if she got it.

  "She'd fine us herself if she spotted Milo in the kitchen, even though he never steps a paw over the threshold."

  "Oh, well, then he’s a smart boy," Amelia cooed, scratching Milo’s head.

  "That he is. So what can I do for you?" I asked. I had a feeling Amelia followed me back for a reason.

  "I just wanted to say thank you so much for the job. You've totally been a lifesaver," she said, her attention still on Milo.

  "I don't know about that. Ellen and I are so thankful to have you on board. We were drowning here."

  "No, you don't understand. It's not that I'm not grateful for my mom—she seriously is a huge help—but the three of us, soon to be four, living in her little two-bedroom house? Well, it isn't gonna cut it for too long."

  I noticed Amelia didn't include her husband in the equation. Even without him, Amelia was right. Margaret's house was on the small side.

  "Plus being right here just off of M-22? I don't like the thought of my babies playing by such a busy road," Amelia continued.

  "Yeah, I wouldn't like that either," I replied.

  "Hopefully, I'll be able to save up and get my own apartment soon," Amelia said. She sounded so optimistic, I didn't have the heart to tell her that there wasn't any affordable housing nearby. Especially if she still wanted to live close to her mom, which I had a feeling she did since Margaret was helping her with childcare.

  "Anyway, thanks again," Amelia said. "I won't let you down."

  "I have no doubt in that." Amelia had already proven herself.

  "I'm going to get back to work."

  "Sounds good. I'll be here finishing this up. Call back if you need me before I'm done."

  "Will do."

  I got to work mixing together the fresh pumpkin, evaporated milk, brown sugar, eggs, and cinnamon. I added a pinch of nutmeg and ginger at the end. The smooth orange filling came together nicely. I was just about to roll out the reserved dough and use a cookie cutter to stamp out some leaves and acorns to decorate the tops of the pies when my sister strolled in through the back door. Amelia popped back at the same time, and Milo dashed up the stairs, as not to get into trouble.

  "Oh, sorry," Amelia said once she spotted my sister in her full uniform.

  "No, that's okay," I replied. "What's up?"

  "We're getting a bit busier out here. Ellen wanted me to get you."

  "Okay, just give me a minute."

  I turned my attention to Autumn. Her tired eyes locked with mine, and I knew this wasn't going to be good.

  "Coffee?" I offered.

  "The biggest one you've got."

  "Coming right up. Have you been up since your shift last night?" I asked.

  Autumn nodded. Her usually neatly styled red hair was piled in an uncharacte
ristically messy bun on top of her head.

  "Are we alone?" she asked.

  I looked at Autumn with concern in my eyes. It was never good when she wanted to speak to me in private.

  "We are," I replied, and I meant it. I looked for any signs of Nick or Edward, but neither one of them was around.

  "What's up, what's going on?" I asked.

  "You know Edward, the—" Autumn waved her hand in the air, trying to think of the word.

  "Real estate developer," I supplied.

  Autumn pointed her finger at me. "Yes, him. Well, he died last night. Car accident."

  "Yeah, I know. I heard."

  "I knew you would've." Autumn knew people loved to talk in this town, and what better place to share gossip than my little bakery. "But what you don't know is that it wasn't an accident."

  "But he drove off the road. Isn't that the definition of an accident?" I asked.

  "Not when your brakes were cut."

  "Are you serious?" I was shocked.

  "I was murdered!" Edward's sudden appearance made me jump. My head jerked over to where Edward had materialized.

  Autumn looked at me like I was crazy. She looked where Edward had manifested and back to me, coming up empty. Autumn didn't have a mystical bone in her body.

  Autumn continued on. "I'm only telling you this because I need your cooperation in this investigation."

  "What does that mean? What does Edward's death have to do with me?" I glanced over at the ghost who was now pacing around my kitchen. His image flickered as pulses of energy ebbed and flowed through him.

  "I heard that Ellen wasn't too happy with Edward yesterday morning," Autumn stated.

  "Who told you that?" I asked.

  "Does it matter?" I wasn't surprised Autumn wouldn't say, but I was betting it was Betty Jones. Betty would've loved having news to spread.