The Ghosts of Landover Mystery Series Box Set

by Etta Faire

  And there it was. The reminder that I wasn’t good enough the way I was. At least there were professionals to help me be better at life. I folded the paper and stuffed it into my pajama pocket without looking at the rest.

  My mother was already dressed in perfectly pressed jeans and a sweater, her short gray hair tucked behind her ears. She walked over to me. “Honey, I’m just worried you’re not doing enough with your life, that’s all. It goes by fast, believe me. You need to get out there and network, Xerox that old resume, go to job fairs and temp agencies…”

  “Temp agencies?”

  “And…” she said, pulling a small cardboard box out from under the breakfast bar. “I found these for you.”

  I took the box even though I was deathly afraid there might be a Rolodex and a pager in there. The box was lighter than I thought it’d be. I set it on the bar, and lifted the flaps as my mother smiled proudly on.

  Peeking inside, I saw what looked like 20 overly thick, grayish white volleyball kneepads looking back.

  “She spent all yesterday morning searching for those,” her friend Brenda said from the stove.

  I pulled one of the dingy white things out of the box and squished it between my fingertips. “What are they, anyway?”

  “My old shoulder pads.”

  I dropped it back into the box.

  “They’ll make you look like a real dynamo in job interviews. We used to sew them into all our suit jackets, blouses too…”

  I closed the box back up. I would’ve preferred the Rolodex, or anything that didn’t involve 40 years of sweat stains.

  “They’ve been washed,” she said, probably because I was curling my lip, then added. “You can’t find them this big anymore.”

  Was she seriously handing down a box of humungous shoulder pads like some sort of sad feminist baton, or was she trying to distract me with this gift of gross? She knew what I came here to ask. I blurted it out. “Mom, I don’t want a box of your old shoulder pads. I mean, thanks, but I’m not taking those. Or career advice from the 80s.”

  She pursed her lips. “Most things stand the test of time.”

  “Not when those things are shoulder pads and the word dynamo. And I didn’t come here for those. I want to see my adoption papers. I know this is hard, but it’s time. I want to know names. If not my biological parents’ names then the name of the adoption agency. I want to see the blanket you say I came in. I want to know everything you can tell me about who I am. Not who you think I should be.”

  Brenda handed me my plate of eggs and hustled out of the kitchen.

  “Sit,” my mother said, motioning toward her bright yellow kitchenette in the dining room. She sat down next to me. “Do you know how happy your grandmother was when I told her I was adopting you?” she asked, making me roll my eyes. Her first tactic of distraction hadn’t worked, so now, just like always, she was moving on to plan-b. The emotional detour.

  She continued. “Thrilled. She was thrilled. Not just because she couldn’t wait for grandchildren but because she couldn’t wait for me to experience the joys of motherhood too. And you were something else. A real handful. Curly blonde hair that was larger than life. I didn’t know what to do with it.”

  I tugged on one of my curls. “Still don’t,” I said, kicking myself a little for getting sidetracked on the emotional detour with her.

  “I thought I’d missed my chance to be a mother. Most adoption agencies wouldn’t even let single moms apply back then. And I wasn’t about to get married just to have kids.”

  I nodded. I decided to allow this detour, but only until I saw the telltale twitch. It was the little eye spasm that let me know when she wasn’t telling the truth, or that she was hiding something.

  “I was walking out of Stellaplex one day when one of the guys from legal stopped me. He told me his cousin was looking for a good home for a baby she couldn’t take care of, and he knew I was looking to adopt. He said this young woman would essentially give me her baby if I complied with the terms. I couldn’t comply fast enough. I’m still complying.”

  I knew what that was like. I had to do something similar for my free house. “The guy from legal, was he the lawyer for the adoption? What’d he look like?”

  “Oh, I don’t remember that,” she said with an eye twitch.

  I salted my eggs. “What did the couple look like? My birth parents?”

  “Never met them.” No eye twitch. She was telling the truth. “Never even saw a picture. The lawyer brought you here. We signed the paperwork right on this very table.” She smoothed her hand over the dotted formica like she was picturing it. “You were so cute in your little purple blanket. I was ready to sign my life away when I saw you.”

  My mother didn’t cry. But her voice cracked a little as she talked. “I was told if I didn’t comply with the entire agreement, and it was a very thick agreement, I would forfeit my legal rights to you. I can’t legally tell you anything more than that.”

  “But that’s gotta be over, Mom. They can’t take me away now.”

  She looked down at her hands. Her eye twitched and spasmed.

  I decided to change gears. “What about the lawyer?” I said, mouth full of eggs. “Tell me what you can about that guy. He would be old, but he might still be around.”

  My phone rang and I pulled it out of my back pocket. It was Rosalie. “Hold on, Mom…”

  My mother was still talking. “The only thing I remember about that man is the mustache” She chuckled. “And the pens. My goodness he had a lot of pens in his shirt pocket and this handle bar mustache that I think he waxed… looked like one of those western movies.”

  My jaw dropped. “Ohmygod, I am your free house,” I yelled across the table.

  “Carly,” Rosalie said through the phone. Her voice was light, cheerful almost. “I need you back here ASAP. We’re on for tomorrow’s seance.”

  “W…what?”

  “You heard me. Paula Henkel never changed the tickets to say we were no longer the mediums. That’s why nobody cared it wasn’t us anymore. They didn’t know it wasn’t us anymore. But when the ladies at the country club found out… Hooey! I heard they went bonkers. They fought for us, Carly.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “We’re getting half the basic ticket sales and anything extra we pick up like tarot-card readings. This is huge. This is huge.”

  I clicked off and hugged my mother. “Thanks for the information about the lawyer. Can’t stay for the career counselor, though,” I said. “I’m making the big bucks now.”

  My eye twitched a little.

  Chapter 15

  A New Found Confidence

  It was just a door now, like always, no signs of destruction or repair. No sign that a crazy woman had kicked her way into a secret room a couple days ago. I looked high in the corner, right below the ornate doorframe where I’d first seen the folded edge of wallpaper, painted over and begging me to pull on it. There was nothing there now. And not one crumb of drywall on the hallway floor either.

  Only a letter taped to the outside of the mysterious door, addressed to me:

  Dear Ms. Taylor,

  This letter serves as a formal written reprimand of your attempted destruction of the property known as Gate House, as inspected by Mrs. Theona Harpton. The house agreement explicitly states no part of said property can be altered in any fashion. Please refrain from any more destructive attempts. After three formal reprimands, appropriate actions can be expected.

  I almost kissed it. It was confirmation that I was supposed to have done that. I was figuring things out. Maybe. Once again, I really had no idea. But, my actions that day should’ve warranted a lot more than a mere note. I most definitely got the impression this house had things to show me, if I was bold enough to find them.

  I bolted down the stairs, a new found confidence and energy in my step. I had a clue about my adoption. The lawyer. I was about to solve Bessie’s murder, and make a large chunk of money in the process.
Maybe I could afford boots that didn’t cut my circulation off, after all.

  The morning sun streamed in through the window, and I heard talking in the kitchen. I quietly moved toward the conversation. “Oh good, you’re awake,” Jackson said when he saw me. I expected to see Bessie, but instead I saw the lawyer.

  Ronald’s stiff, tweed, gray suit seemed to impede his movement as he held his hand out for me to shake it. His jacket hung loosely open, revealing the unusual amount of pens in his shirt pocket. “Jackson told me you have some questions for me.” His voice was very human, natural, with just a hint of a quiver.

  “Yes. About my birth,” I replied, unsure of how to approach the subject. “And my adoption.” I hadn’t expected to confront the lawyer so soon. I hadn’t had time to prepare what I was going to say.

  Tugging on the end of his mustache, he raised an eyebrow at me. “I can give you a lawyer’s perspective if you have questions about the adoption process and your rights within it,” he said, making his way over to the dining room table. He motioned for me to sit and he pulled out a chair and sat next to me, just like a regular human. I watched him with the same eagle eye I’d given Mrs. Harpton.

  Jackson disappeared, leaving me to fend for myself.

  “I have reason to believe you might know who my birth parents are,” I said.

  “Adoption documents are usually sealed unless you go through the proper channels.”

  The scrapbooks were laying on the table and I flipped through the first one until I found the photo of the classroom. “Why do you and Mrs. Harpton look like these people?”

  He didn’t answer.

  I continued my interrogation. Even if he never said a word, at least I was getting it all off my chest. He would know that I knew. “My mother wouldn’t tell me a thing about my adoption except what the lawyer who made her sign a six-inch-thick agreement looked just like you.”

  I studied his receding hairline for any traces of sweat, not that ghosts could sweat. There wasn’t even a drop. I went on. “But how could that be? That agreement was signed thirty-one years ago. You would have been a child thirty-one years ago.”

  “I understand you are very emotional.”

  “That’s not an answer. That’s an observation.”

  “I’m very busy, and I do not have time to entertain this line of questioning. I have to fly out of here in ten minutes. But I can hear in your voice how important knowing about your biological parents is for you. If you have any questions about finding your biological family members, I am more than happy to assist.”

  After a few seconds of us raising eyebrows at one another, I finally gave in. “Okay, tell me what you can.”

  He basically gave me a helpful starter guide I could’ve found on a google search, including the many reasons why people don’t want to be found and how both parties should respect that. So I already knew, without any documents or information, I was pretty much at the same crappy standstill as before.

  At 5:00, Bessilyn and I passed under the glitter unicorn into the Purple Pony. Rosalie pointed to the cardboard box with moons on it marked Seance Stuff as soon as she heard the wind chimes on the door.

  She was already pacing, her thick arms barely able to flail properly in the slightly too-tight, sleeveless (and shapeless) dress she loved to wear for seances. “It just burns my damn butt, that’s all,” she said, spit spraying a little as she talked. “I know that woman trashed my place, and she should pay for it, in addition to the seance.”

  “I thought a wild animal tore up your place.”

  “I rest my case.” She motioned to the box I was carrying. “And we’re bringing everything, the whole shebang… my candles. My crystal ball and EMF reader. My table cloth. That should all cost extra.”

  I put the box down. I could tell we were going to be a minute. “Well, we’re over it,” I said. “After tonight, we never have to see that woman again. Let’s just make some money and be done.”

  I knew I needed to confide in Rosalie about the real reasons I was doing the seance, though. “I’m also going to figure out Bessie’s killer tonight. I did a channeling with her last week…”

  Rosalie studied my face, staring in my eyes. She didn’t even bother to hold in her look of disappointment. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d already done that? I would’ve checked for signs.”

  “I knew you’d worry. I’m fine. I don’t think I’ve had any ill effects related to the channelings.”

  “No eyesight problems, odd behavior, or hallucinations?” she asked.

  “I’m not possessed yet, if that’s what you’re asking.” I didn’t mention the fact I tore through a wall for no reason and heard bird sounds while I was doing it. “But there are still pieces to this puzzle that are missing. Sir Walter seems especially suspicious. He married a year after the party and he lied on the police report.”

  Bessie appeared by my side. “What are you talking about?”

  I’d forgotten she hadn’t known the Sir Walter stuff. She’d spent the rest of last week resting from our channeling session.

  I spoke softly when I told her everything. I knew it would be hard for her to hear it, not just the part where Sir Walter had lied to police but also the fact he had married just a year after her death, and that he’d had kids.

  Her face lost color and she stared at her feet. She hadn’t known any of it.

  “I can’t go. I can’t face this, or him. The seance is over,” she said, fading into the rack of dresses behind her.

  “We’re very close to figuring out your murder. I can’t do it alone.”

  Rosalie checked her watch, pretending not to stare at me talking to air. “I hate to interrupt,” she said, pointing to the door. “But we’re gonna be late.”

  I made one last ditch effort. “Bessie, you have to go to the seance,” I said.

  “What? She’s not going? We signed a paper guaranteeing she’d be there.” Rosalie snapped her fingers in the direction I was talking. “Bessilyn Hind, get in the car now.”

  “I don’t think she’s going,” I said. “We’re gonna have to fake it.” As we were leaving, I added. “If you stay here, Bessie, then you’re letting your murderer get away with murder once again.”

  I could only hope guilt still worked on the dead. But I had no confidence in that, not even the new-found kind.

  Chapter 16

  Show Time

  Rosalie blinked her eyes at the dark living room of the bed and breakfast as she stood in the doorway, mouth open. It was almost as decadent as Bessie’s birthday bash.

  Buffet tables had been placed all across the sides of the spacious room. Waiters dashed this way and that, carrying trays, setting everything up. I smelled bacon somewhere.

  “Welcome, welcome, welcome ladies,” Paula said in her black leggings and matching witch dress, her spiky blonde hair sprayed with glitter. “I hope you approve.”

  Paula Henkel sure knew how to cater to her rich clientele. Deep purple and black velvet material had been draped across the ceiling of the dance floor, making the place look like a mystical circus. Cushy chairs with small tables were all around the outer perimeter so everyone could get a good look at the show.

  And in the middle of the dance floor was what I knew would act as our seance table, the extra-long dining table covered in a glittery black cloth with a crystal ball, an EMF reader, some candles and tarot cards on it. Nine chairs were already placed around. I wondered if Rosalie had counted the “premium spots” like I had. There were supposed to be five. Paula was making extra money everywhere.

  Rosalie looked nervously at the cardboard box I was still carrying with the word “seance stuff” scrawled across the front with a black sharpie. She bit her lip.

  “I’ll get rid of it,” I said, knowing we weren’t going to need Rosalie’s threadbare black tablecloth or half-gone candlesticks after all. I scanned the place for somewhere to hide it, purposely asking the waiter who was setting up trays of bacon-wrapped, who-cares-so-long-as-
they’re-bacon things on one of the tables. I grabbed one. Then another. He threw me an annoyed look, extending his arms out to take the box I had just asked him to take.

  “Don’t worry. I’m one of the mediums,” I said, like that meant extra bacon. “So, keep ‘em coming.” I grabbed another bacon thing as soon as he turned his back then hurried back over to Rosalie and Paula because they were arguing again.

  “I never said half of gross. I said half of net,” Paula said.

  “I know you could not have said half of net because I would never have agreed to something so foolish. That’s like agreeing to half of nothing.”

  Paula’s smirk was as wide as her head as she strutted around Rosalie. “I see you’re here. You must be agreeing to my terms.”

  Rosalie smirked back. “I see you’ve set up. Looks like you’re agreeing to our terms, which is half of gross sales. I’d hate to see all of this go to waste.”

  “I can still call Dragon Fire and Emerald.”

  “Do it.”

  The ladies were pretty close to each other, Rosalie shaking a little on her bad hip as she bent down to Paula’s level.

  I stepped between them. “Paula, look. I think Rosalie can agree that this must’ve set you back quite a bit.” Paula threw her hands on her hips and nodded her head so hard it looked like she wanted to free it from her neck.

  I went on. “But I’m also sure that Paula, here, can agree that she can reuse much of this stuff on a second or even a third seance someday. Something Rosalie and I would be happy to do again, if we’re treated fairly at this one…”

  Both ladies seemed to calm down enough to negotiate, and I walked off.

  Jackson appeared beside me, an almost transparent version of himself in front of one of the large windows. He blended almost seamlessly into the curtains. Thankfully, I remembered other people were here or I might’ve started talking to nothing again. I was getting way too comfortable having conversations with ghosts.