Cursed With a Twist (Grumpy Chicken Irish Pub Series Book 4)

by Constance Barker

  Cursed With a Twist

  by

  Constance Barker

  Copyright 2018 Constance Barker

  All rights reserved.

  Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Cursed With a Twist

  Ginger

  Dixie

  Edith

  Piper

  Ida

  Digger

  Ginger

  Piper

  Bones

  Star

  Guardrail

  Digger

  Dog Breath

  Ginger

  Ginger

  v•

  hh•

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ginger

  The clock approached twelve p.m. and the hot grill and cold drinks awaited customers. I wiped the tables one last time in anticipation of the lunch crowd. Dad was in the back pretending to help Bones with the food and Dixie worked the bar. We were ready for another day at The Grumpy Chicken.

  Digger crawled into the pub, maybe weary from hard work or as a display of his mood. Most days he was predictable, but today it was ten minutes till noon when he plunked on his usual bar stool. Dixie approached him and asked, “Slow day in the dirt and shovel business? You’re twenty minutes early.”

  He winced. “Ha. Ha. So funny — not! I’ll have you know it’s mostly maintenance work, not digging. The place needs to be mowed and cleaned, too. And in this small town, it’s not like we bury someone every day.”

  Dixie chuckled. “I know. I’m just messing with ya.”

  Another routine day in the pub and the boredom of it delighted me because my unusual days were worse than a fender bender or spilled coffee. My off days involved things like thieves, murderers, psychics, and yes, even ghost chickens. This casual banter was music to my ears. It was normal.

  I asked, “Why are you early today, Digger?”

  “Got everything nice and tidy at the cemetery and I found something I wanted to show to the gang. See if it means anything to anyone.”

  I wrinkled my forehead.“That sounds interesting, what is it?”

  Digger sighed and gave me a stern look. “Well, to be honest, Ginger, you should see it first. I found it on your Mom’s headstone.”

  “What, did someone defile it?”

  Digger chuckled and shook his head no. “Relax, nothing like that. Let me show you.” He plunged his hand into one of the many pockets of his overalls. When he produced a fist holding the contents, my normal day ended.

  The lights buzzed like electricity within struggled to escape the glass bulb confinement and bright white light blazed from every fixture. A blast of cold air ruffled my hair and my ears caught the howl of an odd whoosh on the counter behind the bar. After the rare gust of indoor wintry wind, a supernatural thumping from a rhythm-challenged poltergeist thundered from the floor, vibrating the glasses on the bar. The grumpy chicken was at it again.

  When it stopped, Dixie exclaimed, “Son of an icicle! Not the pickled egg jar again! Doesn’t this bleeping ghost chicken know how to mess with something else!”

  I spun to check my pickled eggs. This particular jar in this specific pub was in constant peril. We went through nine jars in the last year and all found the same shattered end on the floor. However, this time I observed a jar of frozen pickled eggs covered on the outside with frost. Fog rose off the frigid apothecary jar and without warning, it popped. I witnessed hairline cracks rippling through the ice-encrusted glass.

  “Well, that’s not normal.” Digger froze, still concealing the item in his fist as he spoke.

  Dixie grabbed a bucket and plunged the frozen jar into a bucket. “At least this time it’s solid and easy to clean up. But when that melts it’s gonna be a mess.”

  “What was that all about?” I scanned the area to see if anything else needed attention.

  Digger mumbled, “It’s cold. Real cold.”

  Dixie whined, “Speak up. And we know the eggs froze.”

  “No, this.” Digger opened his fist to reveal a small heart-shaped locket and fog rose off the gold necklace.

  “That’s what caused all this? And it was on my Mom’s headstone?” I have observed enough to understand when the grumpy chicken was acting up. And this little locket upset our white feathered, paranormal friend.

  Digger nodded. “Yes. It was just sitting there, glinting in the sun like it was calling to me.”

  Dad and Bones rushed through the swinging door from the kitchen. Dad demanded, “What was all that thumping?”

  I shrugged. “Not sure. Trying to figure it out.”

  Dixie added, “It was the chicken throwing a fit.”

  Digger nodded in agreement. “Dixie’s right. And it happened when I took this out of my pocket.” He held up the gold necklace for all to view.

  “Can I see it?” The gold locket drew me and I needed to touch it.

  “Sure. There’s an inscription on the back and pictures inside it.” Digger extended his hand.

  I took the pretty piece of jewelry and examined it. It appeared old and on the back it read ’To my love Erin Byrne.’ I asked, “Does this name mean anything to you, Digger?”

  “Nope.”

  “It’s beautiful. I can’t believe it was just sitting out in the open.” I ran my fingers over the etched decorations on the front.

  “Me neither. But it was.” Digger pointed at it. “Open it up.”

  I found the clasp and flipped it open. Two black and white pictures stared back at me, one of a man and the other a woman. “Digger, do you recognize these two people?”

  “Nope. But the woman looks a bit like you.”

  I huffed. “Nooo. You’re imagining things.”

  Digger leaned on the bar. “Well, it’s a big coincidence finding it on your Mom’s grave, sure. But she looks a little like you.”

  The front door swung open and Piper strutted in followed by Ida. “How’s it going at the best watering hole in Potter’s Mill? Ida and I just ordered some great stuff online.”

  We all stared at the two internet shoppers till Dixie shot back, “Well, while you were spending money on some bauble or trinket, you missed the grumper messing with things again.”

  Ida made a long face. “Aw, did we miss anything cool?”

  “Real cool, literally. A frozen pickle jar that broke from the pressure of the ice inside...Lights buzzed and they got real bright...Then it sounded like an invisible giant tried to dance on the floor. Shook the bar.” Dixie pointed to each location as she described the events.

  Piper tilted her head a little. “That’s different. The lights usually dim with no sound.”

  Ida squinted at me. “What caused all that?”

  I held up the locket. “I think this.”

  “It’s so pretty. Can I see.” Piper moved over to the bar and took a seat. I closed the locket and handed it to her. “Ginger, this looks really old.” Piper turned it multiple times to inspect the piece.

  “I thought the same thing. And the pictures inside look old too.”

  The front entry hinges creaked again and we all turned to see Star, the owner of the new age shop next door. She entered but crept into the dining room, stopp
ing ten feet from the bar. “Something happened, didn’t it? I feel a disturbance.”

  Dixie snorted. “You could say that.”

  Dad added, “It’s been a while since our plucky phantom hen has made her presence known. Glad she did, it’s good for our business.”

  Star finished her walk to the bar and sat on a stool. “Did anything special happen to cause it.”

  I grabbed the locket from Piper. “This seems to be the source.” I gave it to her.

  Star took it, and as she grasped it, I regretted handing it to her. She flinched, like a jolt of electricity flowed through her. Mysterious, muted thunder cracked from nowhere in particular, or perhaps from another plane of existence. Star sank into her stool and her head drooped to her chest with eyes closed, for an instant. And then she sat up straight, picked her head up, and opened her eyes. “I sense multiple spirits and they are trying to communicate with us. This locket is part of a message.”

  Digger raised his voice. “Star, I found it on Jessica O’Mallory’s headstone. Does that mean anything?”

  Star’s gaze cut through the old gravedigger. “Maybe. When did you find it?”

  “This morning.”

  Star turned to make eye contact with me. “These spirits need to tell you something. But I’m not sure what it is. And you should know, what these other entities want to communicate worries the grumpy chicken.”

  Dixie raised her eyebrows. “Well, there’s something you don’t hear every day.”

  Piper cut in, “Ya know, if it’s part of some sort of message, from my time as a journalist in Atlanta, I might know someone who can help us. This locket seems really old and the man I’m thinking of works in the state historical society. He might be able to find out who this Erin Byrne is and get us information about who the family was. And maybe he can tell something about the jewelry, who made it and so on.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “Atlanta is a ways from here and does he really need to examine it in person? Or can we just email some pictures? I would rather not part with it.”

  Piper smiled. “Maybe we don’t have to. First, Atlanta is only a few hours away. Second, you know I was planning on visiting Atlanta tomorrow, to visit some old friends, including Jayson. During my visit, I can pop over to the historical society and show it to the experts. Let them examine it, up close, so it’s more likely they discover something. Then bring it back. It never has to leave my possession.”

  I groaned. “First, that old boyfriend of yours was never right for you. And second, the historical society is a good idea, but I would feel better if you kept it with you at all times.”

  Piper frowned. “You’re worse than my father. You never like any of my boyfriends.”

  “I’m not judging.” I raised my hands in surrender and took a step back.

  Star interrupted. “This locket has a strong aura. I would keep it close. It may have more value than anyone suspects.”

  Digger spoke with confidence. “I found it. And I want to go with Piper to help. Make sure the thing stays safe.”

  Piper tittered. “Ah, no, no, no. I can do it alone.”

  Digger glared at her. “I insist. I found it, so technically it’s mine.”

  Ida nudged Piper. “He’s got ya there.”

  Piper snapped back at Ida. “Button it. You’re not helping.”

  Digger continued, “Look, I know I’m not Ginger or Ida and I’m not going to be able to chat about the latest girly things in the car, but I need to go and make sure this find of mine stays safe.”

  Ida scrunched her nose at Digger. “I wonder what you consider to be girly things we chat about?”

  Digger blushed. “Ya know. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Piper laughed. “OK, it should prove to be an interesting ride, but I can use some company on the drive and I think I can handle the girly free chat. But you’ll be on your own when Jayson and I go to lunch. And we leave early in the morning.”

  Digger nodded in thanks. “No problem, I can take the day off tomorrow. Someone needs to keep the locket safe while you’re out carousing like a jet-setter in the big city.”

  I added, “So it’s decided. Let’s see what the historians can tell us.”

  Digger and Piper nodded to each other to confirm the plan. And with that, everyone ordered lunch.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Dixie

  The large wooden bar is an integral part of the pub and is a continual mess because of the constant use. Tom and Ginger work hard, but they deal with food or other things most of the time. As the bartender, my job is to clean and organize the lounge area and ensure the customers have fresh drinks. It is hard work, but satisfying. I must find something in it because I have worked here for thirty years, since being a young twenty-something.

  Guardrail wandered in with Dog Breath in tow and they took their usual spots at the bar. Guardrail bellowed, “Good day pretty ladies.” He gave Ida and me a slight bow with his head, then continued, “One beer and one pickled egg, Dixie, s’il vous plait.”

  I snorted at the big motorcycle mechanic. “I can get ya the beer. But didn’t you hear? The jar went to chicken heaven again. This time by ice.”

  “Why does the egg jar always have to be what gets broken!” He smacked the bar top and scanned the dining room and bar like he was looking for a lost stress relief toy. “Where’s Ginger?”

  Ida was sitting at the bar and answered, “Getting ready in the apartment. I’m waiting for her. We plan on scoping out town today and see what she can learn about the gold locket.”

  Dog pinched his eyebrows. “What locket?”

  I laughed. “You boys missed a lot, should’ve been here yesterday. Star went into one of her freakish trances. And a mysterious locket made the chicken go wacko, which resulted in freezing the pickled egg jar solid.” I poured and served two beers to them while I spoke.

  Guardrail whined as he took the beer, “We had a big job to get done and worked all day and night yesterday. Of course we were working when all the interesting stuff was happening over here.”

  Dog shook his head. “Well, no one can say this place is dull.”

  Ida threw out, “Hey, either of you ever heard of Erin Byrne?”

  They shook their heads no. Guardrail asked, “No, why? Who is she?”

  Ida shifted on her stool to better view the boys. “It’s the name inscribed on the back of the mystery locket. Me and Ginger are planning on asking around today. See if anyone knows the name. And there are two pictures inside the locket. One of a man and another of a woman. The lady looks a little like Ginger.”

  “Really? Can I see?” Dog alternated his glance back and forth from Ida to me.

  Ida answered, “Sure, I got pics on my phone of the inside and outside of it.”

  Dog Breath grabbed his beer and moved over to a seat next to Ida. He extended his hand to her. “If you don’t mind?” Ida took out her fancy phone, opened the picture files, and handed the expensive electronic gizmo to him. Dog pawed at the screen to examine the images and gasped when got to the picture of the woman in the locket. “Dang, she does look like Ginger. But you ya know what, this guy also looks a little like Elias Holland.”

  Ginger bounded down the stairs from the apartment over the pub. Her pretty red hair was down, not in the usual pony tail, and flowed in the passing air as she descended. She hollered on her way to the bar, “Hey Dixie! I’m ready to go check around town with Ida and see if someone knows about this locket. Can you hold the fort down?”

  I answered, “Sure.”

  Ida snatched her phone from Dog. “I’m going to need this, sorry.”

  Ginger took a stool at the bar, next to Ida. “I really appreciate when you cover for me, Dixie.”

  “You’re welcome. But you’re lucky that you have a superhero bartender that does it all while you snoop about town.” I was always glad to help the O’Mallorys, they are family to me. Ginger is younger than me, like a little sister, but I learn and grow as a person with her in my
life. For example, after my divorce, I was alone, raising three kids. To cope, I began drinking extra wine and swearing like a contractor. Tom chastised my cussing at work for years and made me put money in a curse jar whenever I offended, but it failed to stop me and the glass vessel swallowed many of my tips. Two years ago, though, Ginger had an idea. We made a mutual new year’s resolution to stop swearing. It took the pact with Ginger to break the habit and afterward I realized it worked because I feared to disappoint her. And deep down, I may have wanted to emulate her. Besides, I learned how fun it is to invent new non-swear cuss words. Except for that one time I slipped with “Flash Gordon’s nipples.” The gang still teases me for that one.

  Ida put her phone away and said to me, “Talk to ya later, Dixie. Don’t let the Hardly Boys over there keep you from your work.”

  “I think I know how to deal with my regulars. Happy sleuthing and good luck.” I respect Ginger, but my gut told me she was on a snipe hunt with this one. However, she is intelligent and tenacious and no one should underestimate her, especially me.

  Bones burst from the kitchen. “Ginger, wait! I want to go with you. I’m always stuck in the kitchen and miss out on the action. Digger got to go to Atlanta. Let me help you today.”

  Ginger hemmed and hawed then said, “Alright, if Dad will cover the grill. But there may be work waiting for you to catch-up on when we get back. If you can deal with that, you can come.”

  Bones’ noggin rocked like a bobble head. “Yes, I’ll take care of whatever piles up while we’re gone.”

  Tom shouted from the kitchen. “That’s good. Because I’m the owner of this place and there is no way I’m washing pans!”

  Ginger smiled. “What did I tell you, I know my Dad. You’re lucky he likes you or he wouldn’t do the cooking to cover for ya.”

  I added, “Better be careful Bones. Tom may take a liking to the grill and put you out of work.”

  Bones waved me off with one hand and Tom’s voice bellowed from the kitchen again. “No danger of that, Dixie. I prefer to drink beer and talk with the customers. And Ginger, don’t take too long or my good mood may evaporate.”