Christmas Spirit

by Rebecca York

  “Back to the cleaner’s.”

  The comment made her frown. “What’s happening? I mean—first the murder, then someone tried to run you over and now this.”

  He felt his face harden. “I don’t know. I saw someone watching us, and I’m going to find out who it is.”

  “Not a ghost,” she whispered.

  He looked back over his shoulder. “A ghost didn’t dig a hole in the ground and cover it with brush. A ghost didn’t lead me right to it, so I’d fall in.”

  “Should we call Chief Hammer?”

  “Let’s stop by the police station.”

  “You want to see him in person?” she asked.

  He caught the tone of her voice. “You don’t think that’s a good idea?”

  “I don’t feel comfortable around him.”

  “Why not?”

  She raised her head and gave him a direct look, then stared off into the distance as she began to speak again. “Something happened when I was a kid.” She huffed in a breath and let it out. “You just mentioned ghosts. When I was ten, I thought I saw the ghost of a woman when I was at a friend’s house.”

  He felt a shiver go over his skin. He knew all about that. But now she was telling him. Should he admit that he’d investigated her? “Did you?” he managed to say.

  “I don’t know,” she said in a low voice. “I saw a woman. I’m sure of that much. Maybe she ran away,” she said uncertainly. Her voice hardened when she added, “But my friend told people and before I knew it, everybody in town was talking about it. Hammer was on the police force then. He wasn’t the chief, but he was an officer.

  “Before that summer, I used to come to Jenkins Cove all the time. After that, I begged to stay home. I would have stayed away permanently, except that Aunt Sophie needed me to help her run the House of the Seven Gables.” She dragged in a breath and let it out. “Don’t be surprised if Hammer blows us off.”

  “If he comes out here, he’ll see the pit. To my way of thinking, it looks like it’s a security measure.”

  “And he’ll probably tell you it’s for hunting deer.”

  Michael laughed, then sobered again. “We should tell the chief. And I don’t want to do it at the house, because I don’t want to worry your aunt.”

  “You’re right. If we make a report at the station, she doesn’t have to know about your falling into the trap.” She gave his coat another critical look, then began brushing it off with her hand, getting off the worst of the dirt.

  He reached to fish a piece of grass out of her hair, then picked more off her coat. “I guess we look presentable enough.”

  They climbed into the car, and she sat for a moment without turning the key. “This is totally outside my experience,” she finally said. “I mean us.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What would you call it?”

  He laughed. “Strong attraction.” Then he sobered. “But it’s more on my part. I was attracted to you right away. The more I get to know you, the more I like you.”

  She flushed, then said in a low voice, “You don’t know me very well.”

  “I mean to change that. What’s your favorite food?” he asked in a teasing voice.

  “Chocolate-chip brownies.”

  “Good choice. And what’s your favorite color?”

  “Blue. What’s yours?”

  “Blue.”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yeah. See, we have something important in common.”

  “What’s the best thing you remember from your childhood?”

  He didn’t even have to think about that. “Discovering Robert Heinlein. I loved reading his books. What about you?”

  “The acrylic paint set my parents gave me when I was twelve.”

  “What about brothers and sisters?” he asked. That was something he hadn’t checked on.

  “I was an only child.”

  “Me, too. Was that good or bad for you?”

  “Good. I got a lot of attention from my parents. What about you?”

  “My mom was busy supporting us, so I spent most of my time alone. But that was okay,” he said quickly. “I’d lose myself in a book.”

  “Where did you grow up? City or country?”

  “In Chicago. They have a great transportation system so I could go to the Field Museum, the planetarium or the movies anytime I wanted. And I’d go down to Navy Pier, along the lakefront. It’s so big it feels like an ocean. What about you?”

  “We lived in Ellicott City, outside Baltimore. I was in the suburbs so I couldn’t go anywhere on my own. If I wanted to go to the mall or the movies, my mom had to drive me.” She dragged in a breath and let it out in a rush. “It’s getting easy to talk to you. I’m usually cautious with men.”

  “Why?”

  “That ghost incident years ago made me realize how easily people can turn on you.”

  “You felt attacked?”

  “I felt like people didn’t want to believe it, so they turned it around on me.”

  “Then I’m honored that you let me get close.”

  “Honored?”

  “Does that sound too stiff?”

  She grinned. “It sounds old-fashioned.”

  He grinned back at her, letting his happiness bloom in the confines of the car. He wished he could totally relax, but he couldn’t banish a nagging worry that his original purpose for coming to Jenkins Cove was going to blow up in his face.

  Sometime very soon, he was going to have to fess up. But not yet.

  Instead, he asked, “Did you sense something strange in the warehouse?”

  “Did you?” she shot back.

  He felt his jaw clenching, but he managed to say, “Yes.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t describe it. The feeling of the air being thick with menace. The feeling of a presence there that I couldn’t define.”

  “Yes,” she answered. “It was something like that. But not exactly menace. I felt like there were spirits in the building, and they wanted my help.”

  “I guess that’s the difference between you and me. They think they can reach you.”

  “So, you believe?”

  “I didn’t before I came to Jenkins Cove.”

  “Of course, my aunt does. That’s why she has the psychomanteum. To help people. That’s how she is. She’s generous.”

  “So are you. Do you think she was a big influence on you?”

  “I always admired her.” She turned toward him. “What influenced you?”

  He struggled for an answer. “I learned early that you have to be responsible for yourself. I think that made me goal-oriented. And maybe rigid.”

  “Do you wish you were different?”

  She was giving him an opportunity to come clean with her. But he couldn’t take it. Not yet. “Sometimes. What about you?”

  She swallowed. “I’d like to be more open with people. I’m working on it.”

  Perhaps neither one of them wanted to reveal any more. They rode in silence for a few minutes. Then Michael said, “I guess we’d better agree on what we’re going to tell Chief Hammer.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “We stick as closely as possible to the truth. Your aunt suggested that we go look at the warehouse because I was interested in local history. Someone was watching us. When I ran after him, I fell into a covered pit.”

  “Local history,” she said in a low voice. “Okay.”

  He reached over and placed his hand over hers. “It’s not exactly a fib.”

  “But it’s not what she really said. I’ve always felt better about sticking to the truth.”

  “Yeah,” he answered, inwardly wincing. He’d feel better about it, too. But he’d trapped himself.

  He sat in silence beside her as they drove to the police station, knowing her tension was increasing as they approached.

  “One more thing before we get there. I’ve been thinking about who might have a reason to—” He stopped and then started again.
“Harm you.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “Why would anyone want to harm me?”

  “Well, there’s the obvious—the murder. If the guy thinks you can identify him, he might come after you.”

  “I can’t!”

  “Maybe he doesn’t know that.”

  She took her lower lip between her teeth. “I guess it won’t do any good to take out an ad in the paper.”

  “Unfortunately, no.” He turned to her. “Let’s talk about that real-estate guy—Ned Perry.”

  “Ned? What about him?”

  “Well, he’s trying to convince your aunt to sell a piece of prime property right on the harbor. But your aunt still wants to run the B & B—which she can’t do without you.”

  Chelsea made a strangled sound. “Do you think he’d really go after me?”

  “You’re in his way. But I don’t know how far he’d go to remove an obstacle.”

  She gave him a worried look. “You’re not planning to say anything to Chief Hammer about it, are you? I mean, it’s just a suspicion.”

  “No. But I’ll keep an eye on Ned. And maybe I can find out where he was this afternoon.”

  He heard her swallow.

  “You know,” she said in a strangled voice, “a couple of times I thought maybe someone was lurking around the house.”

  “Yeah?”

  She shrugged. “I never saw anyone. It was just a feeling that I was being watched. But I don’t want to say that to the chief, either.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “How well do you know Phil Cardon?” he asked.

  “Why?”

  “He came into the Duck Blind right after I did the other night. He sat next to me at the counter and wanted to get into a big conversation. He could have followed me back and tried to run me down.”

  “I always thought he was harmless.”

  “Okay,” he answered, but he’d keep the guy on his suspect list.

  Ten minutes later, they arrived at the police station. Chief Hammer was at his desk. Michael could understand Chelsea’s concerns as soon as he met the smug, overconfident man. Toward Chelsea, he was highly condescending.

  Apparently, he was the kind of bozo who responded better to other men, so Michael took over the interview, telling about how he’d tried to follow the guy watching them.

  “You didn’t have to go after him,” the chief said.

  “I wanted to know what he was doing there.”

  “That could have been dangerous.”

  “It turned out to be,” Michael answered. “Somebody dug a hole in the ground and covered it up. I fell in.”

  The chief inspected him. “You get hurt?”

  “Not much.”

  “Well, it was probably kids fooling around,” Hammer answered.

  “Maybe,” Michael allowed. “But we’d be remiss if we didn’t report it to you.”

  “Thanks for stopping by,” the chief answered.

  Michael clenched his fists at his sides. Was Hammer going to investigate? He stopped himself from asking the question.

  When they stepped into the sunshine again, he muttered, “It’s good to get a breath of fresh air.”

  Chelsea gave him a sidewise glance. “So it’s not just me being paranoid about the chief.”

  “No. Now let’s go back and tell your aunt it was an interesting experience.”

  “Okay,” she answered in a small voice.

  Once again, he could feel her tension growing as they rode back to the House of the Seven Gables.

  When they got out of the car, he came around to her side and slung his arm around her. She turned toward him, and he pulled her against him.

  “I’m not used to depending on anyone else,” she whispered.

  “Neither am I.”

  “Guys aren’t expected to depend on people,” she answered.

  Aunt Sophie chose that moment to come outside.

  Chelsea took a quick step away from Michael, her gaze fixed on the boats in the harbor.

  “I see it was a successful trip,” her aunt said.

  Michael swallowed. “Yes.”

  “So, what did you think about the warehouse?” Sophie asked.

  “It was atmospheric,” he answered.

  “Long ago, indentured servants were brought to the Colonies. Some of them came through Jenkins Cove. They came here under horrible conditions. Not much better than the way slaves from Africa were transported.”

  Chelsea gasped. “I never knew that.” Her gaze shot to her aunt. “You’re not saying that warehouse is over two hundred years old, are you?”

  “No. That building is newer. But it’s constructed on the location of one of the old docks.” Sophie put a hand on her niece’s arm. “Some of those people died soon after they arrived. You’re sensitive. I think you sense their agony.”

  Michael felt a shiver go up his spine.

  Chelsea stared at her aunt. “How do you know about the slaves and the indentured servants?”

  “I did some research at the historical society.”

  Chelsea’s gaze turned inquisitive. “Why didn’t you tell me any of that?”

  “Years ago, when you saw that ghost, you were too young. But that’s why I sent you to the warehouse. And sent you with Michael, in case you had any problems.”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and winced.

  Chelsea’s gaze flew to him. “Your knee. You’ve been standing here all this time.”

  “What about his knee?” Sophie asked.

  Chelsea looked as though she was searching for an explanation.

  Michael did it for her. “I tripped when I was out there.”

  “Yes. I told him he should put some ice on it.”

  “A good idea.”

  They all went into the house.

  “You sit down,” Chelsea ordered, gesturing toward the living room.

  He sat, and so did Sophie.

  Quickly Chelsea returned with a freezer pack wrapped in a dish towel. He put it on his knee and leaned back.

  Chelsea stood regarding him for a minute. “There are more ice packs in the freezer if you need another one.”

  “Thanks.”

  She reached out her hand and let it drop back. “You took some pictures. Can I see them?”

  “Sure.” He pulled out the phone, then tried to turn it on. Nothing happened. “Damn.”

  “What?”

  “I must have broken it when I fell.”

  She nodded. “That’s too bad.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. He’d wanted to see what kind of effects he got in the warehouse. Now that wasn’t going to happen.

  “I assume there’s a phone store in town.”

  “In the shopping mall west of here.”

  “Okay.”

  Chelsea looked toward the hall, then back again. “I have things to do.”

  “Sure.”

  When Chelsea had left, Sophie murmured, “She’s sensitive. Don’t hurt her.”

  Maybe the older woman didn’t want to hear his answer, because she got up and walked into the kitchen, leaving Michael sitting in the living room, feeling a sudden chill as if a cloud had slid across the sun.

  Chapter Nine

  “You don’t have any other guests?” Michael asked Sophie the next day, when he was the only one who showed up for breakfast.

  “We turned down some bookings because we’re getting ready for the town Christmas party. It’s going to be here this year. And you’re invited.”

  “You’re sure I’m not in the way?”

  “Of course not. We’ve got a lot of jobs for a man—if you’re game.”

  “Of course.”

  “Come help me rearrange some furniture in the living room so we’ll be ready for the Christmas tree.”

  He dutifully moved the sofa and one of the chairs.

  “We’re hoping that Brandon and Clifford Drake can come to the party,” Aunt Sophie said as she stood back to
see how the arrangement looked.

  “You mean the local squires?” he teased her.

  “Something like that.” She handed him a feather duster. “You’re tall. Can you make sure the top of the wall molding is free of cobwebs?”

  His mother had made him do a lot of household chores, and he’d sworn that he would never do them again. At home in D.C., he had a maid who came once a week. But he did as Sophie asked because he liked her, and he wanted to help.

  Michael bought a new phone. Over the next few days, he saw that the party gave Chelsea the perfect excuse to avoid him. She was helping her aunt get ready for one of the premier Jenkins Cove events of the holiday season. But he needed to speak to her, and when he saw the opportunity to corner her in the kitchen, he took it.

  The kitchen. That room had connotations he’d like to avoid. But she was there, and he wasn’t going to miss the chance to talk to her.

  She was standing at the stove, stirring a large pot of something that smelled wonderful and listening to Christmas music on a CD player. She looked wonderful, too, even if she appeared a bit frazzled.

  When she looked up and saw him, her hand froze.

  “How have you been?” he asked.

  “Okay.”

  “I’ve been worried about you.”

  “I’m fine!” She gave him a critical look. “How’s your knee?”

  “Much better.”

  He wanted to close the distance between them, turn her around and pull her into his arms. Instead, he kept his hands at his sides.

  “You told me you’d seen someone lurking around the house. Then there was that guy out at the warehouse. Have you seen anything else suspicious?”

  “No.”

  “You’d tell me if anything worried you.”

  “Yes.”

  The way she said it held the sound of dismissal, but he stayed where he was. “You and I need to talk.”

  “I know. But I’m so focused on the party now. It’s going to have to wait until after that.”

  In response, he walked across the room and turned off the burner, then lifted the spoon out of her hand.

  She stared at him, wide-eyed. “What are you doing?”

  “This.” He pulled her into his arms.

  “Michael, don’t.”

  He kept saying things—doing things—that surprised him. This was no exception. “Just for a minute. I need to hold you for a minute.”