Who Killed the Ghost in the Library: A Ghost writer Mystery

by Teresa Watson

  “I don’t have any clean clothes. As soon as Randy comes back, I need to run to my house and grab a few things.”

  Frankly, I wouldn’t mind see him walking around in just a towel. Did I just say that? Oh dear, I think I hit my head harder than I thought. “Of course. Well, go on, shoo. Let me have my bath. We’ll talk when I get out.”

  Mike grinned, as if he knew exactly what I had been thinking. “Call out if you need anything.”

  He turned to leave. “Mike.”

  “What?”

  “Thank you for coming down that well to get me.”

  He reached out for me and pulled me close. “If you wanted to spend time with me alone, there are better ways to do it besides falling down a well,” he said before he gave me a tender kiss on the lips. “That’s all you get for right now. You need to stay nice and quiet, remember? If you get too excited, you might pass out.” He winked and left.

  “Well, geez Louise, if I’m going to pass out, make sure it’s from a smoking hot, toe-curling, take my breath away kiss!” I slapped my hand over my mouth as I realized I had said it out loud.

  He looked around the corner. “Challenge accepted, but later. Your bath water’s getting cold.”

  OH BOY!

  It took five minutes just to get undressed. I hadn’t worn a cast since fourth grade, when I broke my right arm playing swing the statue with some neighborhood kids. I took a hand towel and put it on the left side of the tub, so I could rest my broken arm on it. Getting clean was another matter entirely, and after that, I just laid back and closed my eyes. I was really starting to feel all the aches and pains from hitting the well bottom.

  Pounding on the bathroom door woke me up. “You alright in there?” Randy said. “You’ve been in there over an hour.”

  Explains why the water felt cold, I thought. “Yeah, I’m fine, or I was until you started pounding on the door. Concussion, remember? Hold the noise down.”

  “Well, get out of there. You’re going to look like a prune.”

  More like a bruised grapefruit. I pulled the plug and carefully got out. After drying off, I put on a super soft, oversized purple t-shirt, underwear and shorts before shuffling into the living room. I slowly sat down in the recliner as Randy came out of the kitchen with a plate of food. “You went to Leon’s,” I said.

  “I told John you had been in a small accident, and he fixed you an extra big baked potato with chopped brisket and cheese. He even sent two pieces of pie for you, cherry and pecan,” he said, handing me the plate.

  I’m not sure being chased through a field by something that resembled Grave Digger and falling down a well should be considered a “small” accident, but I let it go and dug into the potato. The brisket was made in a wood smoker, and was so tender it fell apart if you just looked at it.

  Randy went back to the kitchen and brought back a Dr Pepper for me before bringing out his own plate of pulled pork tacos with cole slaw and a bottle of water. Sitting down on the couch, he said, “I didn’t get a whole lot of details from Mike about what happened. Care to fill me in on how you ended up in the bottom of the same well they found Aggie’s dead body?”

  I shuddered at the visual that brought to mind before telling him everything that had happened. “Stanley saved your life?”

  “Pretty much. If he hadn’t seen what was going on, I don’t think anyone would have found me in that well until it was too late.”

  “Did you get a look at the driver?”

  “Not really,” I said, shaking my head. But I remembered my nightmare, and it had been Stanley’s face I had seen through the windshield. “I wonder if it was Artie.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Just one of those random thoughts.”

  “Uh huh,” he replied, clearly not believing me. “Do you think he knows we found out who he really is?”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “Maybe Amelia went and confronted him.”

  “Do you think he’d hurt her?”

  That was a rather unpleasant thought. “I’m not sure.”

  “Maybe you should get your police chief boyfriend to look into it.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Could have fooled me,” Randy muttered as he took a bite of his pulled pork taco. A trickle of BBQ sauce slid down his chin and plopped on his white shirt. I didn’t say anything. Let him find out later and freak out about the stain when he sees it.

  “What is your problem?”

  “I don’t have a problem.”

  “The heck you don’t. Why don’t you like Mike?”

  “He’s overbearing, controlling, patronizing and a smart…”

  “Whoa,” I said. “I sense some hostility here. Spill it.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Since when? It’s not like you to keep secrets from me, Randy.”

  “Yeah, well, this is the exception to the rule.”

  “What a crock of bull.”

  “It’s part of the man code, Cam. It’s a guy thing. You wouldn’t understand,” he said, struggling to find the right words. “Think Fight Club. Some things you just can’t talk about.”

  I glared at him. Whatever was going on was big, because Randy couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. The front door opened at that moment, and Mike came in. Apparently, he noticed the tension in the air as he set his bag down by my chair. “Everything alright here?”

  “Just dandy,” I said sullenly, shoving another bite of potato in my mouth as I shot Randy another dirty look.

  “Peachy,” Randy replied, grabbing his water bottle off the coffee table and standing up. “I’ve got to get going. I’ll text you later to see how you’re doing.” He took his things into the kitchen.

  “Won’t do you any good,” I told him. “My phone is field roadkill thanks to the monster truck chase. But you can text Mike, or I can make sure he keeps in touch with you in case something happens.”

  Mike rolled his eyes, but agreed. Randy’s only response was to grunt. He kissed the top of my head before he left, shooting Mike one more dirty look as he walked out. “I put your gun back in the gun safe while you were in the tub,” Mike said. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said truthfully. “Check the kitchen; I think he got you something to eat.”

  Mike went to look and came out with brisket, sausage, potato salad and corn on the cob. “Wow, I’m impressed,” he said, sitting down on the couch. “I didn’t expect him to get me anything.”

  “He’s not always a jerk,” I said, eating the last bite of my potato. I started to get up to take my plate to the kitchen, but Mike stopped me and took it from me. Laying back in the recliner, I closed my eyes. I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep until he woke me up an hour later. “Why don’t you go to bed?” he said.

  “Actually, I’m comfortable right here for now,” I said, rolling onto my left side. I winced because of the pain from the bruises.

  “Do you always make that funny face when you’re comfortable?” he laughed.

  “Actually, yes.”

  “Liar,” he said. “At least come lay on the couch. You won’t have any hard edges digging into your sides or back.” I pushed the footrest down and slowly stood up. “Just how bad is your back?”

  “Kim said there were already bruises popping up when she checked it out.”

  “Let me see,” he replied, moving behind me and lifting the back of my shirt before I could protest. “Good Lord, she wasn’t kidding. Just how far did you fall when the rope was cut?”

  “I don’t know,” I said as he lowered my shirt. “Five, eight feet? It wasn’t far, I don’t think. I’m not sure.”

  “Don’t lay down yet,” he said, heading for my bedroom. He came back with my pillows. “I thought you might want these. If we pile them up at an angle, it might take some of the pressure off your back.”

  It did help a little bit. He sat on the other end of the couch and put my feet in his lap before picking up the TV remote.
He was channel surfing when I went back to sleep. The black monster truck came roaring into my dreams, the silver grill grinning maniacally as I ran ahead of it. It herded me straight for the well, but I stopped at the edge before I could fall in. But the truck didn’t stop, ramming right into me and sending me falling into the deep pit. I landed at the bottom, and for some reason, there was a bright light. Looking around, I saw Aggie and Ray Foley sitting in front of me, holding each other’s hands. Their faces melted away, leaving just the bones. They started laughing, their bottom jaws bouncing up and down. I started screaming bloody murder.

  As their bony hands reached out for me, I could feel someone shaking me. “Cam, wake up. Come on, wake up! It’s just a dream. Wake up!” I opened my eyes, blinking at the sunlight peeking through the slits in the blinds. “Keep your eyes open,” Mike said as I started to close them again.

  “The light…it hurts,” I croaked. My throat felt dry.

  He got up and pulled the curtains closed. Thank God for blackout curtains, designed to help keep the heat out during the summer and the cold out during the winter. “Better?”

  “Yes.”

  He went into the kitchen and brought back a bottle of water. “Here, drink some of this,” he said, helping me sit up. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I…today…” I struggled to put into words what I was feeling, “that was my nightmare come to life.”

  Mike nodded knowingly. “That was the first thing I thought of when I saw you running through the field.”

  “When I got to the well, I couldn’t believe it when I saw the rope. That hadn’t been part of my dream. Just now, when I had that dream again, the rope wasn’t there. But when I got to the bottom, there was a bright light. Aggie and Ray were at the bottom. They were holding hands, then their faces melted away and they started laughing as they reached out for me.” A sob escaped.

  He sat me up, moved the pillows out of the way, sat down and laid me down so my head rested on his left leg. “Maybe this is a sign,” he said, gently stroking my hair.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know the old saying, ‘there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel’. Maybe this is a sign that this is almost over.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe you’re a little bit psychic.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, think about it a minute,” he replied. “You had this dream a couple of times before today. Then it really happened. Now you’ve had it again, but you never saw the bottom of the well before. It was always dark. But now you can see it, and you saw the Foleys. You’ve always suspected they were a part of solving this whole mystery. Maybe you’re right.”

  “You’re talking about premonitions, Mike.”

  “Right.”

  “Nothing like that has ever happened to me before.”

  “You’ve never seen or talked to a ghost before, either,” he pointed out. “What’s your point?”

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you. What happened to wanting me to stay out of your investigation?” I said, sitting up.

  Mike rubbed his left hand over his face. “I’m in over my head with some of this, especially when it comes to the ghost.”

  “Oh, and I’m not?”

  “I didn’t say that, but you’re handling it better than I am, and you’ve made more progress on that front. You’ve gotten information about what happened back then that we couldn’t have gotten from the old investigation files.”

  “There was a cover up, Mike,” I said, “and I’m pretty sure Cliff Scott was involved.”

  “Unfortunately, he isn’t around to confirm that.”

  “But you think I’m right,” I said. He shrugged. “Who paid him off?”

  “Damn good question.”

  I sighed and closed my eyes. Mike reached out, grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him. “Lie down and go back to sleep. That’s the best thing for you right now.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to have that dream again,” I protested, but I put my head on his left leg again.

  “I’ll be right here,” he said, stroking my hair again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I don’t understand you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ve been friends, sort of, for years. And now, all of a sudden, you’re interested in me. Are you toying with me just so I’ll keep you in the loop?”

  “You’ve been dating David the snob for the last two years.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “I’m not the type of guy to move in on another man’s girl.”

  “You should have saved me from him sooner,” I said.

  “I thought you didn’t like being the damsel in distress,” he teased.

  “I would have played it to the hilt to get away from the self-centered one.”

  Mike laughed and then got quiet. “Don’t do anything like this again, Cam,” he said.

  “Do what?”

  “What you did today. When you were down there, and you weren’t responding when I called out for you, I thought I had blown my chance. I shouldn’t have asked you to go out there with me.”

  “I’m pretty sure you didn’t ask,” I said groggily. “I offered to go.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I should have stuck to my guns and kept you out of this investigation.” He stopped stroking my hair. “When I got to the bottom and saw you sitting there, I…I wanted to pull you close and hold on for dear life. You took ten years off my life today, woman.” Silence greeted his statement. “Cam?” He leaned forward and sighed. He pulled the quilt off the back of the couch and draped it over me as I slept.

  Chapter 41

  I don’t remember a whole lot about the next few hours, at least not until my parents showed up. I was quietly chewed out for putting myself in grave danger (like I had done it intentionally) and getting hurt again. The chewing out also came with a home cooked meal of Mom’s Green Chile casserole, fresh guacamole with chips and sopapillas from a local Mexican bakery. I gladly took the chewing out to get the food. Wouldn’t you?

  Randy and Jo dropped by about thirty minutes after my parents left. Jo was wearing another broomstick skirt, this time in various shades of brown, with a beige t-shirt and Birkenstocks. This time, she was wearing brown horn-rimmed glasses to match her outfit. “Randy told me what happened,” she said, coming over to give me a hug. “Are you alright?”

  “I’ll be okay in a few days,” I said, wincing as she hugged me harder.

  “Go easy on her, babe,” Randy said, “she’s got bruises everywhere from her fall.”

  Jo pulled back. “Oh, I am so sorry! He told me that, but I just got excited when I saw you sitting there. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

  I assured her she hadn’t. Smiling, she sat down on the floor in front of the coffee table and pulled out her laptop. “What are you doing?”

  “We found some stuff this afternoon, and we couldn’t wait to show you,” Randy replied. “I know you need your rest, but we thought this was something you both needed to know.”

  Jo’s fingers flew across her keyboard. “Amelia Ashton has checked out of the Marriott.”

  “Are you sure?” Mike said, leaning forward.

  “Positive,” she said.

  “So where is she now?”

  Jo looked up at Randy, who nodded. “She’s at the Ashton house.”

  “She’s what?” I said. “How do you know?”

  “The concierge said that she asked for a cab, and the doorman overheard her tell the cab driver to take her to the Ashton house. The cabbie wasn’t happy about it because it was a long drive, but she gave him a big tip and he changed his mind.”

  “How reliable is your information?” Mike asked her.

  “Very,” she said. “My cousin is the doorman.”

  Mike stood up and walked into the kitchen. We could hear him talking to someone. “She left there years ago because she didn’t want to live wi
th a ghost,” I said. “So why is she suddenly interested in living with him again?”

  “To lay claim to the house?” Randy suggested.

  “If she signed the house over to Aggie, then it belongs to her heirs, not Amelia,” I said.

  “But if she can prove in court that she signed the house over to Aggie under duress,” Jo said, “then the house would revert back to her.”

  “But that still doesn’t answer the question: why does she suddenly want the house back?”

  “You’d have to ask her that,” Randy said.

  “Not today,” Mike said, coming back into the room. “You’re not going anywhere until at least Tuesday.” Randy started to say something, but Mike stopped him. “Doctor’s orders. She’s got to have rest.”

  Jo could tell that Randy was getting upset. “There’s something else we found,” she interjected before he could argue. “Cliff Scott was getting money every month from an account in the Cayman Islands.”

  “Oh great,” Mike said, “impossible to trace.”

  “Oh ye of little faith,” Jo replied. “I traced it back to a shell company, and traced the shell company to a larger corporation that is owned and operated by one Amelia Underwood Ashton and one Stanley Arthur Ashton IV.”

  “Amelia was paying him off?” I gasped.

  “One of them was,” Jo said. “We just have to figure out which one.”

  “If Cliff has been paid off since the beginning, it couldn’t have been Artie,” Randy said. “He was only fourteen when his father was killed.”

  “So you’re suggesting Amelia,” Mike said.

  “Well, yeah, I guess so. Artie didn’t have access to that kind of money back then, but she did.”

  We all sat quietly for a couple of minutes. “Are we really saying that Amelia was responsible for her husband’s death?” I said.

  “Your grandmother confirmed Amelia was with her at the time Stanley was killed,” Mike said.

  “I know, I know,” I said irritably. “A nice, well-established alibi.”

  “Unless she paid off your grandmother, too,” Jo said. The three of us glared at her. “What? I’m just thinking out loud.”