Murder Ghost Foul: The Complete Mystic Springs Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series

by Mona Marple

  Frances shook that thought out of her head and pulled on some clean clothes, strode right across the field and hammered on the door of Dusty Windbanger’s caravan. She’d never hammered on a door like that in her life, and certainly not his. He didn’t answer, and she glanced at her watch. It was after ten. She hammered again. He liked to sleep in. Or maybe he wasn’t asleep. Whatever he did, he made sure not to show his face outside of his van until all the heavy work was done. He was a top hat and coattails circus man. At least Rufus had pitched in, done his share of the grunt work.

  After a third round of hammering that caused two of the Three Bearded Brothers - Joe and Josh, or was it Jim and John? She didn’t care to remember their names - to peer out of their own shared van and ask if she was okay, Frances trudged across the field and into town.

  The walk to town gave her thinking time at least. She stalked through the chilly streets in search of caffeine and warmth.

  The idea of herself as a murder suspect made her walk a little taller, which was odd. It wasn’t that she liked the label, and she definitely wouldn’t want to court it the way some people did on the Discovery Channel, but it had a certain ring to it. A lifetime’s worth of reading had been preparing Frances for this moment, just without her realising it.

  She ordered a Dr Pepper and a vanilla latte from the redhead in the coffee shop, and even the order itself seemed extravagant. The kind of order that belonged to a whole new Frances.

  “I’ll bring it over,” the redhead said with a smile. She had beautiful freckles all over her face, and Frances was tempted to reach a hand out and join the dots. She’d always thought freckles were a particular blessing to be born with. If there was any such thing as the chosen ones, Frances believed there was every chance it would turn out that they were the ones with freckles.

  “Your freckles are lovely,” Frances heard herself say, then she felt her cheeks flush. “Sorry, I was in the Sheriff’s office all night. I guess I’m a little giddy.”

  “Adrenaline will do that to you,” the woman said with a wink. “Are you a witness? Did you see something?”

  “Sure did,” Frances said. Frances had seen things her whole life and finally people were asking her about it.

  “This is on the house,” the redhead said. “Can I sit and talk to you?”

  Frances nodded. She’d like to sit and look at the woman’s freckles a while longer. She made her way to a table by the window, sat down and smiled at the sight of her drinks - two drinks! And on the house too! Things were sure changing for Frances, she just didn’t know whether that was a good or bad thing.

  “Sorry about that,” the redhead slid into the seat across from Frances and held out a hand. “I’m Ellie Bean.”

  Frances shook her hand and got a slight electric shock. Ellie Bean didn’t seem to notice.

  “I like your cat,” Frances said.

  “Oh, Godiva?”

  “I have a dog who thinks she’s a cat.”

  Ellie cocked her head to one side, which was a pretty canine thing to do. “That’s funny. What does she do? Does she… meow?”

  Frances crinkled her nose. “She tries. And she only eats cat food too.”

  “Wow,” Ellie said. “I never heard of that before.”

  “Well, of course not. Zoey’s one of a kind.”

  “You could say the same about Godiva, I guess,” Ellie said, then she leaned in and dropped her voice. “So, what did you see?”

  “I can’t say,” Frances sat straight in her chair. She’d expected the attention. People loved to gossip.

  “You can tell me,” Ellie said. “I’m actually investigating the murder.”

  “As well as working in a coffee shop?” Frances didn’t mean for her voice to sound so snobby, but really, what other voice could she use. She was pretty sure the local police officers didn’t have second jobs serving coffees on the house. Although it could be a pretty good way of hearing what was really going on.

  “Well,” Ellie glanced down. “I don’t just work here, I own the place. Not that there’s anything wrong with working here. I mean, I hope there isn’t. I think it’s a nice place to work. But, yeah, I’m investigating the murder too.”

  “You’re a police officer?” Frances asked. Maybe these small towns did do things differently. If there was no crime, maybe an officer would need a second job.

  “Oh, no!” Ellie exclaimed. She had a schoolgirl’s giggle and Frances found herself breaking into a smile too. The freckled woman was alright. “I guess I’m an amateur sleuth.”

  “An amateur sleuth?” Frances repeated. She was plain old grinning to hear those words. “Well why didn’t you say? Me too!”

  “You are?” Ellie blinked.

  “I like to think so,” Frances said. “I’ve never been lucky enough to have a murder happen on my patch before, but I read all about them.”

  “Like true crime things?”

  “A little,” Frances said. “Cozy mysteries mainly. The amateurs always beat the cops and do you know why? Because they pay attention. This place must be a goldmine for gossip. I bet you knew Rufus was dead before the police did!”

  Ellie’s cheeks flushed and she let out an awkward laugh.

  “How far have you got? Any suspects lined up?” Frances asked.

  “I guess I thought I’d be asking you questions?”

  Frances laughed. “I’m happy to pool resources. You’ve got the local knowledge, so that’s an advantage, but sometimes you can be too close. What if the murderer’s your best customer? Are you going to follow that lead or think to yourself, no way Jose, it can’t be them?”

  “Well…”

  “Exactly,” Frances said. “So what are your thoughts?”

  Ellie glanced back at the till, then got up and walked to the door, where she flipped the sign over to say the place was closed, and locked the door.

  “I mean, my advantage is I knew the victim,” Frances said.

  “You did?” Ellie asked as she returned to the table, her eyes wide. “What was he like?”

  “Horrid,” Frances said, then remembered how impolite it was to speak badly of the dead. “But not too bad.”

  Ellie laughed at that. “Well, which is it?”

  “Depends which day you saw him on,” Frances took a sip of the Dr Pepper. Ice cold and so good. “He was a pretty bad guy, but he took no pleasure in it. Does that make sense? He had a temper and he never thanked anyone for what they did, but he didn’t go out of his way to be more of a pig than he was. And if you stayed out of his way, he’d leave you alone.”

  “How did you know him?”

  “He was my employer,” Frances said, although he had never felt like that to her. Now, Windbanger, he took every chance he had to remind a person who worked for him that they worked for him. But Rufus didn’t seem to care. “One of my employers, anyway.”

  “Your employer where?”

  “At the circus, of course.”

  “I thought Rufus worked there? Isn’t the circus owned by a Mr Windbanger? Or is that just the stage name for the Big Top?”

  “Oh, no, there’s a Windbanger alright. Dusty. Now he’s the boss who throws his weight around. In fact, I could feel real sorry for Rufus at times. Didn’t get his name up on the banners, didn’t get to wear the top hat. Dusty overpowered him for most decisions too. The only thing I ever heard Rufus get his way about was not returning here. And I guess he even stopped getting his way on that in the end.”

  “He didn’t want to return where? Mystic Springs?”

  “Mm-hmm,” Frances said as she took a sip of the vanilla latte. Alternating sips like that felt strangely decadent, and made her a little queasy. She pushed the Dr Pepper away a little. She’d finish the latte first.

  “So he’d been here before,” Ellie murmured.

  Frances laughed. “He was from here! This place was his home!”

  “I didn’t know that,” Ellie admitted.

  “Well, now you do,” Frances said with a
shrug. “I don’t know what happened here, maybe nothing did. Some people leave their homes and never want to go back. Just so glad they escaped, never want to go near the place again. But for sure, Rufus was a Mystic Springs boy. Obsessed with magic his whole life, or as long as I knew him and that was plenty of years. I think he upped and left town to join the circus and never looked back. Except - oh! - that one time. We did stop here. I was brand new to the circus, must have been thirty years ago. We came that one time and never again. Until now.”

  “Until now,” Ellie drummed her finger on the table. “You told all this to the police?”

  “Nope,” Frances said with a grin.

  “But you were there telling them what you knew?”

  “No, lady, they were asking me things. That Sheriff, seems a nice guy, looked tired. They asked me a lot of questions but I’ve picked up a thing or two from all of those books I’ve read.”

  “Like what?” Ellie asked.

  “Like, why should the police be the only ones to get the fun of solving a murder?!” Frances flashed a grin as she spoke.

  Ellie chuckled. “The police must have loved having a witness like you!”

  “Oh, Ellie,” Frances leaned in and grasped the freckled hand, “if we’re going to work on this case together, there’s something you should know.”

  “Hmm?” Ellie asked, which was a good reaction. She wasn’t objecting to them working together, and Frances needed the local knowledge.

  “I’m not a witness,” Frances said. She could barely keep her face straight as she continued, “I’m the prime suspect.”

  11

  Ellie Bean had no interest in solving a murder with the woman, even though she did seem perfectly pleasant. It turned out that she had no better offer, though, and she sure could benefit from Frances’ knowledge of the victim.

  Rufus Wellington, a Mystic Springs native? That did make the plot thicken.

  “It means you local folk are as likely to have killed him as one of us circus crowd,” Frances said. Ellie frowned. That’s exactly what the prime suspect would say. She wanted to cast doubt on anyone and everyone so that the suspicion wasn’t on her anymore.

  “He’d need to have an enemy with a long memory if it was someone from town,” Ellie said. A thirty year grudge? It sounded doubtful, although she wasn’t yet thirty years old so she couldn’t say for sure. There had been some kids from school who she might not be too happy to see again, but nobody she’d kill.

  “There must be some shady characters around here,” Frances offered a weak smile. “No offence. Every town has some.”

  “Is that why you left your town and went on the road?” Ellie asked. “I’ve never understood how people could do that. Don’t you miss home?”

  “My van’s my home,” Frances said. “Wherever Zoey is, that’s home.”

  “So why does the Sheriff have you down as a suspect?”

  Frances took a deep breath and then a long swig of her remaining Dr Pepper. “When he arrived on the scene, I was in Rufus’ van with a crowbar.”

  “Wow,” Ellie said. She glanced towards the door. The coffee shop was empty apart from her and Frances. She wondered if she could get to the door before Frances if she needed to. Maybe she could use magic? A quick flick of the finger, like Violet had done. She sighed. She wasn’t that kind of witch. She needed to make a circle and take her time.

  “Aren’t you going to ask what I was doing?”

  “Do I want to know?” Ellie asked.

  Frances shrugged. “Up to you, I guess.”

  “You’re lucky they released you,” Ellie said, although her real thought was a wondering about what a person needed to actually do to wind up in prison if being the prime suspect for a murder wasn’t enough.

  “Not enough evidence,” Frances said. “And they won’t get enough evidence. I made the 911 call, you know.”

  Ellie scribbled that down on her notepad. “Why?”

  “Saw some things, heard some things,” Frances said with a shrug.

  “Like what?”

  “I’m not sure if I can trust you yet,” Frances said. “Give me a reason to.”

  Ellie pursed her lips. “You’re the one who needs help. I’m not a suspect, remember.”

  Frances paused, then drained the last drop of her drink and stood up. “Come on, let’s walk and talk.”

  The idea of walking around the dark town with a suspected killer perhaps wasn’t sensible, but neither was staying in a locked coffee shop. Ellie did want to keep her talking. Plus, the woman seemed nice. She had a black humour about her and Ellie had always been a fan of dark humour.

  “You coming?” Frances turned back and looked at her.

  “Sure,” Ellie said. “I’ll just use the restroom.”

  In the cubicle, she pulled out her cell and quickly typed a message to Violet, telling her she’d been approached by the prime suspect in the murder case and was taking a walk around town with her. Violet read the message instantly, but no reply came. Ellie huffed a little and added a second message: if anything happens to me, this is who I’m with - Frances Hampton.

  That message was read right away too, but still no reply came. Ellie could stall no longer without it looking as if she was having some gastrointestinal issues, and so she washed her hands and returned to the coffee shop.

  Frances was standing outside, and part of Ellie was tempted to lock her out there and mind her own business.

  You big coward.

  “Stop it!” Ellie hissed. The cat walked straight by her without so much as a glance. “Hey, Godiva? You think this woman’s okay? I should trust her?”

  No way, the response came. I’ve never met a human I trust.

  “Are you kidding me right now? You live a life of luxury! You have no reason not to trust people!” Ellie exclaimed. She kept her voice as low as she could. The last thing she needed was Frances to overhear her speaking to her cat.

  Humans are very strange. Trust nobody!

  Ellie shook her head and opened the door. Frances cocked her head and gave her a smile. She looked almost excited. Maybe Godiva was right.

  “Where are we going?” Ellie asked.

  “I thought I’d show you around the vans,” Frances lead the way out of town. “Then you can tell me about your suspects.”

  “I don’t have any suspects,” Ellie said. Other than you, she added silently.

  “I can give you one,” Frances said, then gave her a wide smile. “Call it a freebie. There’s a woman, a local. She’s an older lady, really eccentric looking. Coloured hair?”

  “Violet,” Ellie said without thinking. “Or… well, I don’t know everyone in town. What about her?”

  “She visited Rufus the day he was killed. They got into a real argument.”

  “You heard?” Ellie asked. Her heart sank. It couldn’t be Violet. If she’d been there, she’d have told Ellie.

  “The vans are so close together, we all hear everything. Or at least, the ones who pay attention hear everything.”

  “Did you tell the police?” Ellie asked.

  Frances shook her head. “I wasn’t helping those dummies out. Can you believe they think I killed Rufus? All because I was standing there when they arrived with a crowbar in my hand?”

  “Well,” Ellie croaked. “I mean, I guess it kind of makes sense for them to consider it.”

  Frances snorted. “If I was going to kill someone, I wouldn’t make it so easy for the police.”

  “You’ve given it some thought?”

  “I’m a bit of an expert,” Frances said as they reached the clearing. The semi-circle of caravans and trailers stood before them, one of them cordoned off with police tape. “Now, that’s obviously the scene of the crime. The big one there? That’s Dusty Windbanger’s. Over there you’ve got the Three Bearded Brothers, they all share which is a little odd but they’re hairy men so nothing surprises me from them. Glory’s there, that one’s me, Old Man River has that tin shack of a thing, Cordelia h
as the pink one, and that one with the music booming out is where the summer hands stay.”

  “The summer hands?” Ellie asked.

  “Every year we get new guys mainly, occasionally a girl, they come and do whatever Windbanger tells them to. This year, let me think, we have the unicycle clown guy, there’s a fire eater every year but they don’t last long, a few acrobats. Ooh, there’s a bearded lady. Haven’t had one of those for years.”

  “And they all share that one trailer?”

  “They don’t sleep,” Frances explained. “They’re always out and about, drinking and smoking, playing their music too loud. They’re a nightmare.”

  “So why have them?”

  Frances shrugged. “You’d have to ask Dusty about that, I don’t make the decisions. Always struck me that they’re cheap labour. They come in, work for a year, then go off to college with a bit of cash and some good stories to tell.”

  “So who are the others?”

  “Glory’s the fortune teller,” Frances said. “She’ll get pulled in by the police soon. She has a record, and a temper too. Rufus was her uncle and we all know most people are killed by folks they know.”

  “Rufus was her uncle?” Ellie asked.

  Frances nodded. “Between us, she’s the best act we have here. I mean, she can’t really see the future or anything, but she makes people believe she can.”

  “You’re sure Rufus was her uncle?” Ellie repeated.

  “Yes!” Frances exclaimed. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “I don’t know,” Ellie murmured. It made no sense. If Glory had Rufus for an uncle, and Violet for an aunt, what did that mean? Ellie couldn’t work out the genealogy. Surely it meant that Violet and Rufus would have to have been married, which she knew was nonsense, or that they were brother and sister?

  “You’ve had an idea,” Frances said. “You’ve found a clue.”

  “No,” Ellie said, “I’m just trying to get my head around things. Carry on, who are the others?”

  “Cordelia’s the lead clown,” Frances lowered her voice. “I don’t like her. She throws her weight around and never gets out of character. I find her a bit spooky.”