by Kali Harper
“What if I get stuck?”
“Can ghosts get stuck?” Meeting her gaze, I offered her a reassuring smile. “If you get stuck, I’ll rent something from Felix to dig you out. Okay?”
She took a breath and walked toward the front door, pausing right outside as she stared it down. “You promise?”
“Yes. If you get stuck, I’ll call Felix. He’s already come out here once before and I’m sure he won’t mind paying me a visit to check out my handiwork.”
Maggie gestured back to the garden. “That’s not handiwork. That’s… it’s…”
“A work in progress,” I admitted. “I never said I had a green thumb. You’d have to get Mr. Clark up here for that.”
“It has crossed my mind,” she said, a bit of color rising in her cheeks.
“You like him, don’t you?”
“When you get to my age, any man sounds good.”
“Eeewww. Okay. Forget I asked.”
“Too much information?” A wide grin spread across her face.
“It’s like imagining my grandmother with a new boyfriend.”
“First of all, I’m not that old. Secondly, love can find you no matter how old you are. Take you for example. You’re in your thirties, never married, nowhere near interested with anyone in town, and destined to hoard cats the way I have.”
“You didn’t hoard them,” I corrected her, “you gave them a home. Besides, if your feline hospitality ever got that bad, I would’ve put a stop to it.”
“So I can bring them home?”
“No, no more cats. I’m already up to my eyes in cat fur with the five you already have.”
“But what if one follows you home?” she asked hopefully.
“Would this particular cat happen to be possessed by a ghost?”
“I only did it once.”
“Twice if you count the afternoon you spent bickering with Sammy while in Ginger’s body.”
“Fine, I won’t bring them home, but don’t blame me if you catch the itch.”
Waking up with Sammy practically sleeping on my head was more than enough for me, thank you very much. “I’m sure I’ll live.” Maggie’s glare corrected me. “Bad choice of words, I swear.”
“Salt in my wounds, Astrid,” she said, not the least bit convincing.
Nodding to the door, I said, “Feel like giving it a try or would you rather do it in a more public place? What if you got stuck inside the wall to your bakery?”
“Is that where you need me to go?” She studied the door in front of her but didn’t move.
“It was an example. You wouldn’t want to get stuck in a wall with your derriere showing, would you?”
“Such a terrible thing to say about your granny.”
“You’re not that old,” I said, repeating what she’d said not two minutes ago.
“If I get suck—”
“I’ll call Felix,” I promised, getting out my cell phone. “I could dial him now if it would make you feel better.”
After taking a long breath, Maggie rolled her shoulders back. Then, after a bit of hesitation, she poked her fingers through the hard wood, smiling when she easily removed them. Bit by bit, her confidence grew. By the time she’d set one foot through the door, there was a silly grin on her face.
“There you go. Fun, right?” Watching her then as she stepped the entire way through the door, I couldn’t help my pang of jealousy. “Imagine all the trouble you could get into without anyone knowing.”
“You know who’d be great as a ghost?” Maggie asked, walking back through the door to join me on the other side. “Kat. She’d love it.”
“Yeah, but I have a feeling her thievery wouldn’t get very far. I don’t think you can carry items with you.” We’d already gone over this before when Maggie couldn’t pick up a box of tissues.
“Hmm, that’s true. So, who’s place are we breaking into?”
“Yours.”
Maggie talked the entire way to Every Last Crumb, going a mile a minute as she enjoyed her new gift. Wait until she goes through the ground. Then again, Maggie’s fear of deep dark places probably meant she wouldn’t go underground anytime soon. She may have hidden her book in a dark tunnel, but she’d probably used magic to make it. Sadly, Maggie’s magic hadn’t joined her on the other side.
“I thought we were going to the bakery,” Maggie said when I turned down a side street.
“I’m not invisible, Maggie. I can’t get caught hanging around a crime scene. Lance still hasn’t taken the tape down.” It had actually offered me a bit of relief. If the tape was still up, then maybe he’d believed me about Harris not being the killer.
“Why are we going back here anyway? I thought you told Lance I was at home.”
“I did, but what if your killer stopped here first?”
“If Lance and his team came out of there empty-handed, what is it you’re hoping to find?” Maggie asked, stopping short of the back door.
“I actually wanted to see if you could open it for me. Lance confiscated my keys.”
“Mr. Clark has a set,” she offered, peering back over her shoulder.
“How come?”
“Some mornings he dropped off the fruit before I got in.”
“No, I remember you saying that but… I never even realized.” It had never crossed my mind. “He has a key,” I said again, glancing in the direction of his shop.
“At least he did before all of this happened. There’s also mine…”
Sighing, I let my shoulders drop. “I really need to get some sleep.” I hadn’t even thought of searching for Maggie’s keys which were probably still in her house somewhere. “Was Mr. Clark the only one with a spare?” Maggie also got deliveries from the farm on the outskirts of town. It was where she got all of her milk, eggs, and other hand-milled ingredients.
“Three keys. You, me, and Ronan.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I asked, turning away from the bakery.
“You never asked,” she paused and followed after me. “I thought you wanted inside the bakery.”
“Maybe in a little bit.”
“Now where are you going?”
“Next door.”
Mr. Clark was out front milling around his cart when Maggie and I walked around the corner. He was so engrossed in his work, he didn’t even see me, his eyes glazed over as he focused on something worlds away.
“Mr. Clark,” I said, doing my best not to startle him.
He shook himself aware and met my gaze, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Astrid, how lovely to see you. Have you heard the latest news?” When I shook my head, he said, “They caught Maggie’s killer. It was Harris Morganson. I always knew he was trouble. Never appreciated my craft the way Maggie did.”
“That’s because you were her supplier,” I reminded him, removing one of the apples from his cart. “These new?” I’d never seen anything like them. The fruit resembled an apple much like a Honeycrisp, but there was a faint blue shine under the surface.
“Just your normal Honeycrisps,” he told me. “Why? Is something wrong?”
I studied the fruit again, but whatever I’d seen was gone. Odd. “Guess it was my imagination.”
“Take it with you. One of the first batches of the season. I love this time of year, don’t you?”
“Apples, pumpkins, pears…”
“And don’t forget the pomegranate.”
“Or the strawberries you’re trying to keep until October.”
“So there may be a bit of magic there, but who wouldn’t want strawberries year round?”
I couldn’t argue with that.
Mr. Clark continued when I didn’t say anything. “And with a festival coming up this weekend, there will be even more stalls open. I’m sure going to miss Maggie’s pumpkin chip cookies. Those were the real deal, you know. None of those charms, just her delicious baking.”
Beside me, Maggie blushed, then said, “I can teach you how to make them. He deser
ves to be happy.”
I nodded to Maggie but directed my next words to Mr. Clark. “I think I saw her recipe box in one of the cupboards. I could try to whip something up.”
“That would be wonderful! Even if they aren’t the same, I’ll feel better knowing they came from her or at least someone who worked with her.”
“They were one of the bestsellers last year.”
“Five years running,” Mr. Clark added, turning back for his shop. “I actually think I have a pumpkin or two ready on the vine if you want to pick them up on Friday.”
“Friday?” That only left me one day to bake, and with Maggie’s killer still on the loose… “I don’t know if I’ll have enough time.”
“Sure you will. You were her apprentice after all. She always spoke so highly you.”
I laughed. “She never let me bake.”
“No, but you were quite the people person. Still are, matter of fact.” He reached behind his counter and handed me a small binder full of pages upon pages of deliveries he’d made to Every Last Crumb. “Figured you might need this. If you’re even planning to take over the place, you may as well see how Maggie handled what was in season.”
I’d been around for most of them, but having the tiny details in front of me as far as when the fruit was ready and when he handed it off to Maggie was a huge help. One thing that stood out were the strawberries we’d all sampled the other day.
“What’s this mean?” I asked, pointing to a black box under where it said public.
“I’d only made enough for Maggie to test along with what could fit in my cart. The others need a few more days before I can bring them in.”
That made sense. Maggie had always tested his new fruits first. Taste testing and baking.
“Those were delicious,” Maggie said, drawing me from my thoughts.
I had to agree. It was a shame Sammy hadn’t liked them. Reading over Mr. Clark’s list again, I realized whatever strawberries I’d handed to Lance along with the orange were probably nothing more than ordinary. According to his notes, only one bushel of berries had reached the desired taste Mr. Clark wanted. That batch was the same one he’d let me sample and had handed off to Maggie.
“The berries you gave to Maggie the other day were only enough to test,” I said aloud, closing the binder before tucking it under my arm.
“And a small sampling for whoever else dropped by,” he said, smiling at me. “The others should be ready come Monday.”
“Shame they won’t be ready for the weekend. I’d love to try baking some strawberry tarts on top of those cookies you like.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, walking back to the front of the store so he could add a handful of bananas to his cart. “No promises, though.”
“And I’ll do the same, but if I can’t get the dough to work right, you’ll have to settle for whatever the Morgansons bring to the festival.”
He scrunched his nose. “I don’t think we should expect much from those two, what with Harris being behind bars.”
“Oh, I forgot to ask, you wouldn’t happen to have a key to Maggie’s place, would you? Lance took the set of keys I had to the shop and I need to get in there for a few of the pots and pans.” I could’ve rummaged around Maggie’s for her keys, but seeing as we were already here, I decided to ask Ronan instead. If he could save me a trip, all the better.
“Practicing, eh? You really are a lot like her. Sadly, I seem to have misplaced mine. I’m sorry.”
I waved his comment away. “It’s okay. I probably shouldn’t go snooping in there anyway. I’ll see if I can convince Lance to let me in.”
“Check with me tomorrow about those pumpkins,” he said, watching me go.
“I will.” As I waved goodbye, I noticed the same blue shine from the apples over the coloring on the pears. It may have been from the intensity of the sunlight, but I rubbed at my eyes anyway. When I opened them again, the blue tint was gone. It’s nothing, Astrid, I chided myself, walking back behind Maggie’s bakery.
“You okay?” Maggie asked once we were out of sight. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She said it with a completely straight face, but as soon as I laughed, she did as well. “Everything all right?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, lowering onto the back step before placing my head in my hands. “Something’s wrong with my eyes.”
“What did you see?”
“A strange blue shine to some of the fruit. It’s probably nothing.”
“Is that what your gut’s telling you?” Maggie asked, crouching in front of me.
“No.”
“What do you think it is?”
I shook my head. “I have no idea. It was like an aura.”
“But not on Mr. Clark?”
“No. Not in the way Ida can see things. Kat told me about her magic. Mr. Clark looked fine, and it wasn’t on all the fruit, either.”
“Well, you do know he uses magic to improve their taste.”
“Aside from the strawberries he’s trying to keep in season until winter, he said he uses his magic to help them grow. It’s dangerous, Maggie. Stacking magic on top of itself?” It was one of Kat’s big no-nos.
“Only if you don’t know what you’re doing,” she said. “It’s fine. Really.”
I wasn’t so sure. “So those auras I saw—”
“Were probably the magic he used during the growing process. Did they stay or fade?”
“Faded.”
“Then it’s fine.”
“But we don’t even know what I saw,” I told her.
“You’re magic’s still new. You’re bound to hit some rough patches.”
“But my spell book is blank, remember?”
“And Ida doesn’t use one. Perhaps you don’t need it.” She shrugged as if to dismiss the topic altogether. “Don’t over think it, Astrid. You’ll get a headache.”
Too late. I was already on my way to a serious migraine. “Maybe that’s what it is. A migraine.”
“Vision problems do occur,” Maggie said with a nod. “Don’t think on it for now, okay?”
“Where are you going?” I asked, slowly stepping off the back stoop.
“Taking you home. All this running around can wait until later. What you need now is rest and some time in a dark room.”
I couldn’t argue with her there. Even if this was a migraine, the less time I spent on my feet the better.
With Mr. Clark’s notes safely in my possession, Maggie and I headed toward home. As we passed his cart, I studied the items again, one of which glowed a very bright green. Much like the others before it, the color quickly faded, making me nauseous and dizzy. Definitely a migraine, I decided, following Maggie.
One hour. I’d rest for an hour, then I’d call Lance.
Chapter Twelve
Convincing Lance to meet with me after what had happened yesterday took a bit of work along with a promise to share whatever information I had about Maggie’s death, but when I told him I could speak with her ghost, he agreed. My head wasn’t any better, and when I told him as much, he suggested he visit me at home instead. It was just as well. Lance could’ve visited Maggie’s house for any reason he wanted, which was a lot easier to explain than me going into the station again.
“There’s a pretty man walking up the driveway,” Maggie called out in a singsong voice as she stood in the living room downstairs.
I rolled my eyes, then grimaced when a new dizzy spell washed over me. Wincing around the words, I said, “Open the door for him, will you?”
“But I can’t open—”
“Maggie, if you can walk through walls, I know you can open doors.” If she couldn’t, I’d have to tell Lance to break in as all the doors were locked.
“Got it!”
His heavy footfalls reached my ears first, followed by a low mumble which I could only assume was his way of thanking Maggie for letting him in. At least I hoped he was thanking her. Then again, no one else in town had ever bee
n haunted by a ghost before. Not anyone I knew, anyway.
Lance stopped outside the doorway, gently knocking on its frame. “Did Maggie let me in?” he asked, pointing down the steps and furrowing his brow.
“You get used to it,” I told him, groaning as the room spun around me in wide circles. Closing my eyes wasn’t any better as the entire bed shifted one way and then the other. “Sit wherever there’s room,” I said after a moment, gesturing around the room without opening my eyes.
“Maybe I should come back.” I could already see him leaving them room, probably as quickly as he could.
“I know it isn’t ideal,” I said, forcing my eyes open before closing them again, “but this can’t wait. It shouldn’t have to wait.”
“That’s one nasty migraine.”
“You’re telling me. You have them before?” I asked, meeting his kind eyes.
He stepped inside the room and leaned up against the dresser. “Used to get terrible ones as a kid. Made me throw up and everything. Thankfully, I grew out of them once I turned thirteen. Ida told me it was my magic kicking in but…” He shrugged.
“Are you like her? A Seer?” It would’ve been the ideal magic to have in his line of work.
“Not even close,” he laughed. “This apple fell far, far away from the tree.”
“So what do you do?”
“A whole lot of nothing. I can protect myself if I’m in the line of fire, but that’s life and death. Otherwise, my magic’s pretty much absent. A lot of folks in town have minor abilities or ones like mine that can make a huge difference and rarely be used. I’m not sure what Kat or Maggie told you, but not all magic is created equal. Some need familiars, others don’t. Same thing goes with books, incantations, chanting, and all of that nonsense.”
“So you’re normal with a few hidden tricks.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m capable of pulling a rabbit out of a hat. You’ll have to leave that up to Felix.”
“He does parties?”
“Sure does. He’s also amazing with animals. Though his best work is with metal. You know those twisted sculptures he has out front of his shop? Those were made with his magic. He’s extremely creative, but can only change the properties of certain materials.”