Ghosts are People Too

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  She raised an eyebrow. “You’d do that for me?”

  “Of course I would. I’m just not sure he’ll talk to me.”

  “I guess it can’t hurt to try.”

  “Jeffrey said he didn’t want the police involved, but maybe we can talk in hypotheticals?”

  “He’s doing something illegal, and he knows I know.” Her phone buzzed. “It’s him again.” She double clicked the button on the side of her iPhone and send the call to voicemail. “Do you think your detective will know the hypothetical isn’t actually hypothetical?”

  “Probably, but it’s still worth a shot.” I offered her a small smile. “You ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  THE FIRST PROPERTY of the ones Olivia thought would work on the haunted historical property tour was an old plantation home just north of town, but still within the same zip code, and within the historical society’s work limits. The sturdy white two-story home mirrored most plantation homes from the Civil War era. The front porch and large round columns made a statement to its grandeur, but its run-down appearance, discoloration, beat up and broken shutters showed years of neglect. My eyes dulled and my chest ached as I stared at the once beautiful home, and I hoped one day it could be restored.

  “Wow, this could be gorgeous if someone took care of it,” Gen said.

  “Yes, it could.” We walked up the steps.

  “What’s the story?”

  “It’s similar to many of the others here. The Civil War destroyed so much, and so many families paid the price. This one,” I opened the file, “is about a woman, Anna Kentworth, whose husband went off to the war and never came back. She had two children, a boy and a girl that died from something related to the war. Disease or violence of some kind, though I’m not exactly sure what.”

  Gen pressed her hand on her left breast. “God bless their souls. That poor momma.”

  I took a few photos of the exterior with my cell phone. “You want to go in?”

  “Sure, but do you think it’s safe?”

  “We’ll be careful. If I see anything that concerns me, we’ll leave.”

  I tried the door handle, and as I expected, it turned.

  “If you know the owner, why aren’t you making them fix the place up? Isn’t that sort of what you do?”

  “He’s planning to put the home up for sale. He’s an old man, and he hasn’t lived in it for years. He’s in an assisted living facility south of here, and from what I understand, he can’t afford to restore it. His kids don’t want it, so he’s putting it on the market. I’ve got a few photos of it from years ago, and he’s getting some together from his things, too. Once we’ve got those organized, the realtor will look for someone that plans to restore it back to its original appearance.”

  “If you can find a buyer. I don’t know anyone that would want to take on a job this big.”

  We walked through the first level, and I paid attention to the fine details of the woodwork throughout while keeping my eye out for the ghost known to hang out there. “You’d be surprised how many people will put the money into places like this.”

  It didn’t take long for the ghost to make her appearance, but it wasn’t the one I expected. Instead of seeing the mother of the children who died, as other’s claimed to see, one of the children appeared.

  A little girl dressed in a frilly white tea length gown stained with dirt and grime hopped and jumped as she ambled across the upstairs landing. I wasn’t all that familiar with how ghosts and humans communicating worked, but either she was excellent at ignoring the living, or didn’t know we were there.

  The inside of the home wasn’t nearly as beat up as the outside, but it still needed a good restoration as well as a major cleaning. The owner had left many of his belongings covered in white sheets, but they didn’t exactly match the period of the home.

  “Oh my.” Gen bumped into a small table in the parlor. “That scared me to death.” She walked over to a bookcase and examined it.

  I glanced at the structure as it and the white sheet over it trembled. I carefully lifted the sheet and took a peek under it. Underneath sat a smiling little boy dressed in overall shorts and a no longer white, but dingy, dirty button down. He giggled and ran off.

  I assumed the little girl saw us, too, but just didn’t much care we were there.

  I quickly covered the table back up. “Hey, I’m going to take a run upstairs. You want to come?”

  Gen turned around and smiled. “Nope. I’m good. I’ll wait out by the car if you don’t mind. It’s really cold in here.”

  Ghosts always chilled the air. I’d learned that by accident and had started keeping a sweater in my car just in case I decided to take a spontaneous ghost hunting adventure. Which I hadn’t officially done as of yet.

  “Okay, I’ll be out in a bit.”

  I set to walking through each room of the small plantation home, making it through five of the downstairs rooms and the large master bedroom when Gen screamed outside.

  “I don’t have it,” she hollered. “Leave me alone, or I’ll call the police.”

  I rushed to the window and stared out as Jeffrey Avondale charged toward my best friend. I tugged and pounded on the old window until it finally opened. “I’m calling the police.” I held my phone up, but as I went to dial, Jeffery backed away from Gen.

  “You don’t understand. I need that money or they’ll kill me.”

  I rushed downstairs and outside to my friend. “You okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Gen, I’m sorry, honey, I can explain. Just tell me what you did with it.” Sweat poured down Jeffrey’s face. “Please.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. As far as I know, you don’t have any money.”

  “You need to leave,” I said.

  He threw his hands in the air and stared at me. Without saying a word to me, he turned toward Gen again and said, “Please. I know what you’ve done. Just give me back the money.”

  Gen shoved her shoulders back and smirked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Please, baby. You know I love you. I’ve done all of this for you. For us. Don’t do this to me.”

  “No. You’re a liar. I know that now, and I’m done. Do you hear me? I’m done.”

  “You don’t understand. Let me explain. It’s not what you think.”

  “What I think doesn’t matter. It’s what I know that does, and I know who you are now. I want you to leave.”

  He tried to approach her again, but I moved in front of her and blocked him. “Please. You’re making this worse. Just go.”

  He tried to talk, but I stopped him again with an angling of my head.

  He dipped his head back and then stared at his wife one last time. “You just killed me,” he said, and sprinted back to his car.

  We both watched as he got into his car, and then Gen turned to me and cried on my shoulder.

  I HAD A FEW THINGS to take care of for work, and Gen wanted to pick up something at the house, so I dropped her off there before heading to the Mayor’s office. We made plans to meet back at the historical society in a bit. I told her to take the empty office next to mine and that Olivia would help her learn how to navigate my files for the locations I’d picked for the tour, gather photos and create an invite. I knew she’d worked hard to avoid what had happened earlier.

  I ran a proposal over to Mayor Tyson’s office and reviewed it with him. He asked more questions than I’d expected, offered several suggestions that required me to make additional changes to my changes for the locations proposal, and took up two hours of my time. I wasn’t complaining. I enjoyed my job, and I liked Mayor Tyson. It was just unusual for him to have that much input on a project.

  Afterwards, I picked up three of Del’s ham and pimento cheese sandwiches with chips and fruit and headed back to the office where I chose to research what Jeffrey could have been doing with that money. Part of me desperately wanted him to be the good
guy I’d always seen him as instead of the criminal I’d grown to suspect. I didn’t know much about white collar crime, but in my quick research, I learned enough to get a general idea and validate, unfortunately, that Jeffrey was involved in something illegal.

  Most reasons for an overseas account were tax purposes, but my intuition told me those weren’t why Jeffrey did what he did. Women business owners also received tax breaks men didn’t, but I knew in my gut that wasn’t what Jeffrey shot for with the business in Gen’s name.

  Men that did things for honest reasons didn’t act desperate and afraid. Maybe it was time to call Jack? A part of me wanted to call him. I missed chatting with him. I missed having even a teeny connection to someone of the opposite sex. Sure, I chatted with other men, but those were men my father’s age that had their daily coffee group get togethers at Community Café, and the chatting consisted mostly of how are you and can you believe the weather out there. I didn’t count Mayor Tyson or the city council members either. Politics and historical society items weren’t connection talk.

  I headed to Gen’s temporary office. “Hey—”

  Bent over the computer with her phone glued to her ear, she raised a finger for me to hold on, so I stood and waited.

  “Yes. Emm hmm. We can do that. I’ll have my assistant get a check over to you ASAP. Thank you, I appreciate your help.” She disconnected the call. “What’s up?”

  “Your assistant?”

  “Sweetie, you never do the grunt work yourself. Right?”

  “I do all the work.”

  She blinked. “Then what’s that sweet little girl who makes the amazing iced tea for?”

  I shut the door behind me. “She’s not an assistant. She’s a coworker who happens to have a recipe for the best sweet iced tea ever. You’re going to have to run the check over yourself.” I pointed my finger at her. “Wait, is this a historical society check?”

  “Well, of course. For the party. I’ve booked the caterer already.”

  “Wow, I’m impressed.”

  She gave me the details, and I explained what she’d need to do to get a check cleared. “And I’m calling Jack. I think we need to discuss this with him. I’m worried you taking the money involves you somehow now.”

  “But if you look at the bank accounts, the money belongs to me.”

  “That’s part of the problem. I’ve been researching, and I’m pretty sure Jeffrey’s laundering money.”

  “Of course he is. Why do you think I took it?”

  “You can’t keep it though. Not the stuff he didn’t deposit from your account, and I’m not sure you’ll be able to keep that either. It’s time to ask a professional.”

  After a minor pause, she agreed.

  I asked Olivia to help Gen get the check situation in order while I headed to my office and fretted over calling Jack. Only I didn’t even make it to my door.

  He called me. “Do you know a Jeffrey Avondale?”

  Chapter Three

  Olivia promised to handle the check situation while Gen and I rushed back to the home where we last saw Jeffrey.

  An officer met us at the front of the home’s cracked paved driveway. “This is an active crime scene ladies. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “Detective Levitt asked me to come, and this is Jeffrey Avondale’s wife.”

  He gave us a single nod and led us to the area in front of the front porch and told us to wait there for Jack.

  We gazed at the home in awe, both of us wondering what exactly had happened.

  “Do you think he’s okay?” Gen rubbed her hands together and then pressed her fingertips into her cheeks. “What do you think’s going on in there?”

  Jeffrey’s car and the area surrounding it was marked off with crime scene tape. The driver’s door was open, and I had a feeling whatever was going on inside the house wasn’t good. “I’m not sure.”

  Jack stepped out of the home and walked with intent toward us. He offered me a slight nod and then turned to Gen. “Are you Genevieve Avondale?”

  She nodded. “Is my husband okay?”

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry. Your husband was shot. He didn’t make it.”

  Gen’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “What? No. No. He’s not dead.” She turned in a circle. “The ambulance.” She pointed to it. “The men. They need to go help him. Why aren’t they helping him? They have to help him.”

  Before she had a chance to rush the paramedics, I hugged her. “Gen. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “He’s not dead.” She shook her head over and over. “No. He can’t be. We just saw him here a few hours ago. He was leaving. He...he’s sleeping.” She laughed. “He sleeps like a rock. I’ve told him that for years.” She smiled. “Yes. He’s probably just sleeping.”

  I didn’t know what to say, but thankfully, I didn’t have to figure it out. Jack had a handle on things. “Mrs. Avondale, the County Coroner is on the way. Your husband’s not sleeping. He’s been shot.” He motioned for the paramedics. When one came to us, he asked that Gen be made comfortable, and the paramedic guided her to the ambulance.

  “How did you know I knew him?”

  “His cell phone was on the floor next to him. When we picked it up, your contact information was on the screen. Looks like he was trying to call you right before it happened.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

  I nodded. “Yes. No. Well, I’m not sure. I was going to call you about it and then you called me.”

  We stepped over next to an empty squad car. I couldn’t take my eyes off Jeffrey’s car. I pointed to a long change in the broken concrete driveway that led through the grass and to the house. “Are those drag marks?”

  He nodded. “Looks like the vic was dragged into the house. Can you tell me what you know?”

  “Gen just left him. She found out he’d taken money in...” I tried hard to remember what she’d said. “Maybe a few of their accounts, but I’m not sure it was all of them. He took it, and she discovered he had another account in a business name overseas. She checked into it because she’d never heard of it and saw that she was listed as the president.” I didn’t mention that Gen actually had the money, and I had a feeling I’d regret that eventually.

  He rubbed his chin and then sighed. “Great. Looks like a money laundering situation.”

  “We were here earlier doing some work for the historical society, and he found us here. They argued. She told him to leave. We saw him get in his car.”

  “Did he leave?”

  “I...I don’t know. No. I don’t think so. We left before him.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “We went back to my office, and now we’re here.”

  “So, you’re saying she’s been with you since you saw him last?”

  “No, she wasn’t, but you don’t think she—”

  “What happened next?”

  “I brought her back to my place. She said she needed to get something and would drive herself to the office. I had...I had to meet with the Mayor, and then I grabbed us lunch at Del’s and brought it back to the historical society.”

  “About how long were you two apart?”

  I checked my watch. “Three hours tops?”

  He nodded. “Thanks.” He headed back to the house.

  “Jack, you don’t think that—” I stopped myself from finishing that sentence because I was almost yelling as he walked away.

  He flipped around and nodded toward Gen. “Keep her here.”

  “HE ARREST HER?” DEL poured me a cup of coffee from a freshly made pot on my kitchen counter. She and Thelma had brought over a large chicken Caesar salad for dinner and served it up on paper plates. Austin took his along with the freshly baked brownie Del brought to eat in the den.

  “No, but she’s at the station being questioned.” I buried my head in my hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Why didn’t you stay
with her?”

  “Jack wouldn’t allow me in the interrogation room, and Gen told me to leave. I waited as long as I could, but I had to get Austin at lacrosse practice. She was in shock, and I shouldn’t have left her. What was I thinking?”

  “You were thinking you should do what your best friend asked,” Del said.

  “Oh, I remember watching a documentary about a woman that killed her husband.” Thelma took a bite of salad and talked with her mouth full. “She stabbed him twenty-seven times because she’d asked him to take the garbage out three times that day and he wouldn’t. She’s in jail now, probably taking out the trash there for her daily chore.”

  Del stared at Thelma. “That don’t help Chantilly here feel any better.”

  Thelma blinked. “Oh, I’m not saying your friend is guilty. I’m just glad she only shot him and didn’t stab him twenty-seven times.”

  “She didn’t shoot her husband, stop talking like that. We’re here to support Chantilly, not make her feel worse.”

  I moved the salad on my plate around with a fork. I didn’t have an appetite even though I’d never had the chance to eat my pimento cheese sandwich from before. “But what if she’s right? What if Gen did kill her husband?”

  “You don’t really think that, do you?” Del asked.

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t. I’m not even sure why I said that. I’m just...I don’t know. None of it makes sense.”

  Del leaned across my small kitchen table and patted my hand. “Don’t you go worrying too much, sweetie. Detective Jack will have her back here right quick, and everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

  Del must have been psychic because just then Austin hollered from the den, “Coach Jack’s here with Aunt Gen.”

  I heard the front door open. “Hey, Coach,” he said. “Hey, Aunt Gen.”

  Austin didn’t know what was going on, and as a middle schooler, didn’t wonder why those two were together either.

  The three of them walked toward the kitchen as I’d jogged toward the front door. We met in the middle of the hallway. “Hey.” I pulled Gen into a hug. “You okay?”