Audrey Claire - Libby Grace 01 - How to be a Ghost

by Audrey Claire

  “I found this in my home office, facing my computer.”

  The deathly silence in the station seemed to press in on my ears, but it could have been all in my mind. Clark turned away and pushed fingers through his hair. All of us watched his back as he shifted his shoulders and rolled his head, cracking his neck. When he turned around, his expression was grave.

  Clark picked up the baggie. “Step into my office, sir. I’m hoping you can set my mind at ease that this has not just become a federal case.”

  Unlike before when everyone pressed to get an audience with the officer on duty, at Clark’s words, the entire crowd jostled each other to get out the door. I knew just where they headed—to the bank. Everyone wanted to make sure whatever monies they had deposited were still there. I would have too had I not already checked that morning to find what I expected, a dwindling sum that wouldn’t last the month. I had already contacted the mayor and would start work at the hardware store on Monday.

  When I joined Clark in his office, I found him informing the bank employee he would confirm whether any sensitive data had been gathered through the use of the camera in his home. Clark wrote down the man’s name and number and sent him on his way. Before Clark could go to the evidence room to review the tapes, call after call came through on his line. His cell phone rang constantly, and he had to calm countless visitors. At last, he shut off all communication devices and shouted to the staff he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances, and then he slammed the door and locked it.

  I don’t blame you, I thought, resting in one of the visitor chairs and facing him. We had both been going for a couple days trying to crack the case, and Clark still had poor Miles in lockup. I had peeked into his files again to learn the mayor’s secret. She had indeed been with her doctor on the night of the murder—a psychiatrist. This was why our esteemed mayor snuck out of town at an ungodly hour. She valued how she looked in the public eye above all else. I had shared what I learned with Monica, and in usual Monica style, she had quipped, “So Olivia Walsh is coo-coo?”

  I had frowned at her. “That’s not nice, and no, she’s not crazy. She’s getting the help she needs. The mayor is on medication to help combat obsessive-compulsive disorder. A lot of people deal with it on some level. Many are able to cope with no outside help. I guess the mayor isn’t one of them.”

  As I had thought of it, I realized why she had become so angry with me for pretending I had a phobia in order to excuse not working at the elementary school. Even though I didn’t know about her problem, she had seen it as me making fun of her, which was far from the truth.

  So, if the mayor had not killed George in a rage for cheating on her with another man, then was it possible Miles had committed the crime, or was it someone else we hadn’t even thought of? I knew from sitting with him, Clark’s lack of credible suspects frustrated him, and the issue with someone spying on everyone could not help.

  He sat at his desk with his face in his hands, breathing deep. I hadn’t looked at him since the night I possessed him and had stared through his eyes in the mirror. I imagined exhaustion beat him down, and I extended a hand to touch his. At the same time, Clark raised his head, and as was his habit lately, he raked fingers through his hair, shoving it off his forehead.

  I squinted at him. A black-gray smudge marred his skin just below his hairline. I had the urge to lick my thumb to try wiping it away, but I couldn’t do that. Even as I reached for him again, a gut feeling told me this spot was not anything visible with the physical eye.

  Someone banged on the office door, and an officer’s shadow appeared through the glass. Clark gritted his teeth and shouted. “I thought I told you not to disturb me.”

  “I’m sorry, chief,” the officer called back, “but you said you were giving a public statement this afternoon, and the mayor’s calling. She wants to go over what you’ll say.”

  Clark grumbled and rose to his feet. He jerked open a side drawer in his desk and rifled around a little, then moved to another and another. At one of the file cabinets, he seemed to find what he looked for and brought out a small cracked mirror. I chuckled in silence. Not the type to worry about his appearance much. He tried smoothing the jerky spikes in his hair with little success and stared at his face. The smudge was still visible through the disordered hair, but Clark didn’t seem to see it.

  “You look like crap,” he told his reflection. “I guess that’s what happens with three hours sleep and a gallon of coffee. Guess I’ll have to deal with her.”

  You can do it, I cheered him, but my heart was heavy. I didn’t follow Clark to the mayor’s office. Rather I returned to my own home and spent time with Jake when Monica brought him home. The night took a million years to descend, and I had to wait longer still for Ian to return from his night’s feeding. When he seemed to appear almost the way that I did outside his home, I started.

  “Good evening, Liberty,” he intoned, meeting my gaze. “You are looking…depressed.”

  “You can’t see me.”

  A glint of something flashed in his eyes, and I followed him into his home. “Poor choice of words. I meant the gloom coming from you is almost visible.”

  “Wonderful,” I moaned.

  As usual, we entered his book room, and Ian took a seat in an armchair. I let him see me and sat nearby, learning forward in my seat and imitating Clark’s positioning earlier with my hands over my face. After I had had time to collect myself, I straightened.

  “What happens if I possess a person too long?”

  “Why?” Suspicion colored Ian’s tone.

  “I…”

  “How long did you stay in Clark Givens?”

  “I don’t remember.” I surged to my feet and paced. “A lot happened. His office isn’t far from the mayor’s, and I jumped right out of him when he went after the person who broke into the mayor’s office, but I’m not sure how long before that I sat reviewing files.”

  “You used your possession time reviewing files?”

  I huffed. “It was much more important work than it sounds.”

  He stared at me to the point that I wondered if he blinked or if he needed to. “Tell me specifically why you are asking this question.”

  I hesitated but then took the plunge. “There’s a mark.” I swallowed, my head beginning to spin. “More of a smudge really. It’s on Clark’s forehead. I could be wrong, but I don’t think it’s physical. He didn’t seem to see it, but I did.”

  “The Mark of Death.”

  “M-M-M.” I could not say the word for anything.

  “Clark Givens will die within two to ten years. No exceptions.”

  A few seconds passed before I took in the full brunt of Ian’s words and what it meant for Clark. I had lost my body and essentially stolen Clark’s. Now he would die? “C-Could you be wrong?”

  “Unfortunately, no. I have seen it before.” He stood and strode to the bookshelf to remove a book. This time, after he had flipped through the pages, he brought it to me to have a look. The illustration shot an arrow of pain straight to my heart. The man pictured had a mark on his forehead that matched Clark’s, and the caption beneath read, “The Mark of Death.”

  I didn’t have the strength to read further, but Ian paraphrased for me. He had not been mistaken, and from what I gathered from the text, at the time I felt that extreme darkness outside the mayor’s office, that was probably when Death had paid Clark a visit with a promise to return for his life.

  Heartsick, I shut my eyes and wept for Clark. I felt myself sinking into deep despair. I even imagined Death had returned for me as well, ready to toss me into that pit from which I could not return. I wouldn’t fight him either, because it was the least that I deserved.

  I might have given in to this line of thinking and disappeared if Ian in his way hadn’t pulled me back with his voice.

  “Stop it, Liberty,” he ordered. “You will not undo the damage by offering yourself.”

  I railed on him. “Does nothing bo
ther you? How can you sit there and not care about a man’s life—a good man? Clark deserves better than this. He deserves to live his life, and I took that away from him.”

  “I do not dispute what you are saying. I have met the chief of police once or twice. He seemed like the good type.”

  I shook my head at Ian. “I’m assuming you judged him unworthy of making a long term meal.”

  “On the contrary,” he said without repentance. “The chief is in decent condition and is strong.”

  “Was,” I corrected.

  “Will you give yourself up for him?”

  Ian studied me with a serious expression on his face. I couldn’t determine if he still looked at me as the ultimate meal and would do what he could to restore it, or if he now saw me as a friend. Since he had not changed from the first day I met him, one never knew.

  “Ian, can you call me back from the darkness?”

  “Is it important for you to know?”

  “Yes.”

  I kept my gaze locked with his, but he didn’t attempt to avoid my question or look away. “If you have not crossed over, then yes, I can call you back.”

  “And you have, haven’t you? You sense when I’m about to sink into it, even when we are apart?”

  “I do.”

  “Is it because you drank my blood before?”

  “Quite possibly.”

  “Why?”

  “Liberty, do you wish to leave your son?”

  I flinched at the question. “No, never.”

  “Then find a way to overcome your guilt.”

  He left it just like that, a blunt statement that weighed as much as a mountain.

  Chapter Eleven

  I stopped by the mayor’s office, recalling how she had said she used a particular electrician. I didn’t know if she had made the connection that this person might have installed the camera in her office, but I knew I hadn’t had anyone in to my home. Still, it seemed smart to ask her about the name anyway, just in case. I prepared a lie that I needed to hire someone and was looking for recommendations. I even planned to flatter her as a person I would more likely trust to guide me more so than anyone else I knew. Unfortunately, my best-laid plans were waylaid when Sharon informed me the mayor was not in the office and was not expected back for the rest of the day. I assumed she had concluded browbeating Clark into saying what she wanted him to say at his public statement.

  Next, I headed over to the police station, this time to appear in person before Clark. His eyebrows rose when he saw me, but he invited me in. I avoided looking at his forehead because I thought it might set off the waterworks yet again and grabbed a seat on the visitor’s side of his desk.

  “It’s good to see you, Libby,” he said, and I stiffened at the warmth in his tone. “How are you? I called you regarding the camera found in your home. I assume you’ve heard everything that’s been happening?”

  I shifted in my chair, staring down at the ever-heightening pile of folders on his desk. “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy. You know I lost my cell phone, and I haven’t replaced it yet.”

  “Of course.”

  I rushed to say, “I know you’re doing all you can on the case, chief. I—”

  “Clark.”

  I cleared my throat. “Clark. I’m not worried about it. I mean I am but…”

  “We have a suspect in custody.”

  “I don’t believe Miles did it,” I blurted, and he blinked at me. I gave a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job.”

  I lowered my gaze waiting for him to chastise me for doing just that, but all thought to the case left my mind when he reached a hand across the desk to lay over mine. I jerked away, glad I had a firm hold on myself not to disappear.

  Clark raised both hands. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was thinking, when this is over, maybe we could have dinner together.”

  My mouth fell open, and I forgot about not looking into his face. He was asking me out on a date? Days ago, even yesterday I might have—no, I might have nothing. Everything was far from over, and would not be from now on. The mark stood stark against his skin, peeking as if in defiance between two silky locks of hair.

  The door opened, and Isabelle stepped into the room, relieving me from answering Clark’s invitation. I surged to my feet and offered him a smile. “I better get out of your way. I know you’re a busy man. Hello, Isabelle.”

  She glanced from me to her brother and scarcely offered me a hello. I scooted out of the room before Clark could say any more and finding myself out of view of anyone else, I faded from visibility. Still catching pulling myself together, I had the misfortune of overhearing Clark and Isabelle’s conversation.

  “You messed up my chance, Isabelle,” Clark complained.

  “What chance? You’re not interested in her, are you?”

  I could almost see Clark’s frown. “What if I am?”

  Isabelle sighed. “You can’t be with someone like her. There are plenty of other nice women in Summit’s Edge. Forget Libby Grace.”

  At Isabelle’s words, I drifted out of earshot, bristling with insult. I didn’t know why she didn’t like me, but I decided then and there I would do my best to watch over Clark for the rest of whatever life he had on this earth, even if it couldn’t be in a romantic capacity.

  As I moved away from the police station, I reviewed what I knew of the case. The mayor’s alibi checked out, but Miles didn’t have one. My gut told me he wasn’t guilty, but I was new at this, so who knew if my gut was sadly mistaken. Miles was a librarian and an artist. He might not have loved George, and maybe he had been a little cruel to a man who obviously cared for him, but that didn’t mean he had committed murder.

  A lot of people in Summit’s Edge moonlighted with various jobs. Look at Monica? She also worked as a librarian, and when she wasn’t doing that, she waited tables at Gatsky’s. I had Jake to think of, but if I didn’t, it was likely I’d find a second source of income. In fact, now that I thought of it, the hardware store paid less than teaching kindergarteners. I would have to find a second job. Who would have thought a ghost could work one job let alone two?

  I thought of George and how he had owned the hardware store and worked home improvement on the side. All of a sudden, a new angle to the murder opened up to me, and I rushed back to the station.

  Clark perked up when I bypassed the officer at the desk and burst into his office. I was glad to find Isabelle had left.

  “Libby, you came back,” Clark said, sounding too pleased.

  “Yes, I was thinking, Clark. I want the mystery around George’s death resolved as much as you do.”

  His eyes widened. “You’re not a suspect, Libby. No matter what Sadie says.”

  I frowned. “Is she still trying to pin it on me?”

  He glanced away and ran a hand through is hair. “At least every other day. What have you done to make her hate you?”

  “Exist.”

  He chuckled. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll get to the bottom of this, and I don’t put much stock in what Sadie Barnett tells me since she insisted the mayor was present at the store that night. I already verified she was not.”

  I nodded, knowing where the mayor had gone. Clark liked me, but he didn’t break the mayor’s confidence.

  I took a seat across from Clark and leaned forward in it. “I’m not worried about myself—well, not entirely. I think we’ve been going about this case all wrong.”

  “We?”

  I could have chewed my lips off. I’d forgotten I had been following Clark everywhere, investigating with him, but he didn’t know that.

  “Figure of speech. Please hear me out.”

  He nodded.

  “You found a camera at my place and the mayor’s that matched the ones at the hardware store, correct? And one in Miles’s apartment.”

  He groaned. “Half the town has them. No, I’m exaggerating. So far, there are more than is comfortable, but they were all eith
er with key individuals in the town or those connected with key individuals.”

  “I’m no one special.” I was an ordinary woman who didn’t even have a social life for the most part, so I couldn’t imagine why anyone would target me.

  Clark’s face grew red, and I figured it out. I just caught myself from blurting that he and Isabelle had discs labeled with their names in the box he found. I should not know this information. Clark as the chief of police was a person of interest, and at some point, he had let it be known, whether in public or in private, that he was attracted to me. With that knowledge, anyone could deduce it was a matter of time before I figured more prominently in his life.

  Pushing thoughts of Clark and I aside, I forged ahead. “Do you think George was behind all the cameras?”

  Clark considered it. “I can’t rule it out as a possibility. He might even have had the skill although I can’t be sure. I had always thought he focused more on building decks or relaying floors. If he repaired or installed walls, it’s not a stretch to think he knew something of rewiring and electronics.”

  “The mayor mentioned when I visited her that she had hired a contractor to come in to redo some wiring.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry. If George did it…”

  “If George had done the rewiring, it’s not likely she would say she ‘hired a contractor.’ She would admit her husband did the work.” Clark snatched up his phone and dialed. After a few minutes, he slammed the phone down. “Sharon wasn’t at her desk, and the mayor isn’t answering. I think the break-in affected her more than she’d like to let on.”

  I felt bad for the mayor once again and wondered if she had gone to see her doctor. Clark tapped strong fingers on the top of a file, his gaze faraway. Then he focused on me. “Let’s say George is not behind the cameras. Someone hires him to do a little fix-up at their house. He breaks out a wall and discovers what? A camera? He wouldn’t jump to the conclusion that they’re guilty.”