Great Balls of Fury

by Annabel Chase

  “No, he wasn’t mugged,” the chief said.

  “Are you sure? Because crime in this town has had an uptick since Chief O’Neill died,” she said.

  “It’s been like a week,” I said.

  “Where did you hear that?” Sean asked. He seemed miffed, not that I blamed him.

  Marianne flicked a dismissive finger. “Everyone’s talking about it. I was in the salon yesterday and half the customers were putting Xanax in their protein shakes. That’s how worried they are about their safety.”

  Chief Fox patted her arm. “The situation isn’t dire, Mrs. Bradford. In fact, muggings in Chipping Cheddar are extremely rare.”

  “Then what happened to my husband?” she asked, blinking back tears.

  “Heart attack,” Sean said. “He was found in the elevator. We’re not sure whether the elevator was stuck and he panicked or what. We’re getting whatever information we can.”

  Marianne adjusted a loose curler in her hair. “What do you mean he was found in the elevator?”

  Chief Fox pointed to the elevator. “It’s right there. Dr. Myslinski’s office is on the third floor.”

  Marianne glared at the offending machine. “Now he takes an elevator? I had to walk up twenty flights to our hotel on our honeymoon because Elliott hated elevators so much. Now he takes one? For three flights?” She blew a raspberry. “Ridiculous man.”

  “Elliott hated elevators?” I asked. “Why?”

  “Why does anyone?” she replied. “He hated being confined in small spaces.” She paused, dropping her gaze to the floor. “Oh, my. I just used the past tense to talk about my husband.”

  “Is there a problem with the stairs?” I asked.

  Chief Fox and Sean exchanged glances. “We took the stairs when we got here,” the chief said. “No problems there.”

  “Maybe he thought it was okay because it’s only three flights?” Sean proposed.

  “Then why not just take the stairs?” I asked. “Was he suffering from any injuries? A sore leg? A stubbed toe? Anything that would force him into the elevator?”

  Marianne shook her head. “No, he was in pretty good shape for his age. One of the things I appreciated about him. Didn’t let himself go.” She touched her curlers. “I try not to, either.”

  “When you’re ready, we need you to come down to the station and positively identify him,” Chief Fox said.

  Marianne gave him a blank look. “Identify my husband’s body?”

  “Yes,” the chief said softly.

  “Okay.” She frowned. “Will you drive me? I always wanted to ride in the front of a police car.”

  Sean held up a finger. “But I ride…”

  Chief Fox cut him off. “Yes, that’s no trouble, Mrs. Bradford. Deputy Guthrie will ride in the back.”

  I suppressed a smile. “Mind if I come down to the station?” I didn’t want to miss anything.

  “I thought you had a dentist appointment,” Sean said with a sneer.

  “This is more important.”

  Chief Fox gave me a curious look. “I don’t think you’re needed on this one, Agent Fury, but thanks.”

  Of course he didn’t think so. Why would the feds be interested in a man’s elevator-induced heart attack? I still wasn’t sure that I was interested, but Mrs. Bradford’s reaction gave me pause. If he felt as strongly as his wife suggested, then why did Elliott choose to take the elevator?

  With no more leads in the investigation, I decided to stop by my dad’s house and see if we could brainstorm for ideas. I opened the kitchen door and called his name.

  “They’re out to eat,” a voice said.

  I whirled around. “Gustav?” My heart was pounding. I’d completely forgotten about their visitor.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “No, it’s okay. I didn’t think anyone was here.”

  “I’m not here for long,” he replied. “I’m supposed to meet them at a place called Fondue Paradise. Do you know it?”

  “Oh, yes.” My mouth watered at the mention of fondue. Melted cheese was one of my weaknesses. “You’ll love it. It’s downtown on one of the cute cobblestone side streets. Stilton Lane.”

  “Thanks. They’re the best hosts a demon could ask for.”

  “I’ll just leave him a note to say I was here.” No point wasting Brownie points.

  “I can tell him you stopped by,” Gustav offered.

  “That’s okay. He’ll appreciate it more if I write him a note.” He’d consider a message via Gustav to be lazy.

  “Suit yourself.” I heard the front door open and close.

  I was just finishing the note to my dad when a familiar figure materialized in front of me.

  “Chief O’Neill? Is that you?” In my dad’s kitchen?

  “Eden? You can see me?” He looked around awkwardly. “I tried to talk to a handful of people, but no one answered.”

  “That’s because you’re dead,” I said bluntly.

  “I got that far,” he said. “Why are you not panicking?”

  “Because I’ve been able to see ghosts my entire life. It’s one of my things.”

  His eyes slanted. “Can your whole family see ghosts?”

  “Nope, that wonderful talent was relegated to yours truly.”

  “So no point in coming to talk to your dad then, huh?”

  “No, but that’s okay. You got me instead.”

  “Feels weird to be a ghost. I feel lighter.” He whooshed around the room. “I even went to the golf course. That was interesting. Did you know Gary Jenkins cheats? I couldn’t believe it.”

  “Do you happen to remember anything about your accident?” I asked.

  “You mean drowning? That was pretty unpleasant business, let me tell you.”

  “Did you see anyone?”

  Chief O’Neill stroked his transparent chin thoughtfully. “No, I just remember this overwhelming compulsion to look at the water.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t know why. I generally avoid it.”

  “Because you can’t swim.”

  He glanced at me in surprise. “You knew?”

  “Everyone knows.”

  “Right. I tried not to make a big deal about it. Guess I failed.” He chuckled softly. “I always send Sean to investigate any incidents near the waterfront. I’ve had a fear of falling in and drowning for as long as I can remember.” His smile faded. “I guess now I know why. Maybe I was a little bit psychic, like your friend Clara.”

  “Clara isn’t psychic,” I corrected him. “She’s an empath. She feels the emotions of others. It’s complicated.”

  “Oh.” He drifted around the room, despondent. “I’m not sure how I feel about this whole dead thing.”

  “Sadly, it doesn’t matter how you feel,” I said. “You don’t exactly get a choice in the matter.”

  “Tell your dad I didn’t give him back all his golf clubs,” he said sheepishly. “I kept the nine iron. It’s in my garage, near the toolbox.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  Chief O’Neill floated around in a circle, getting accustomed to his new form. “Does your family know you can do this?”

  “They do,” I replied.

  “Is that why you became a federal agent? Because you could ask the victims questions that no one else could?”

  “No,” I said. “I didn’t use my ability as an FBI agent.”

  “You’re using it now.”

  I released a breath. “I’m not just an FBI agent here, Chief. I work for the FBM.”

  His brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

  “Federal Bureau of Magic.”

  “There’s no such thing,” he scoffed.

  It wasn’t my job to convince him, so I let it go.

  “Why am I still here?” he asked. “Why haven’t I gone to Heaven?”

  “Unfinished business usually,” I said. “In your case, I’d say it’s figuring out who murdered you.”

  Chief O’Neill stopped short. “Murdered me? Are you
sure?”

  “That’s the consensus, and seeing your ghost now confirms it for me.”

  “Who would murder me?”

  “That’s the hot question.” I paused. “Tell me everything you can remember about the day you died. Were you alone at the marina?”

  “No, I passed a few people. Llewellyn James, Carolyn Hartness, Joe Lowe.” He reeled off a few more names I recognized. “Last person I remember seeing is Wade Cantrell.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “He owns that big monster yacht that takes up half the bay,” he said, clearly annoyed. “Hard to miss.”

  “Did you speak to Wade?”

  “Yeah, I did. I gave him a citation. He wasn’t happy about it. He’s the kind of guy used to getting his own way.”

  “What was the citation for?”

  “Reckless driving,” he said. “The boat. A few complaints came in and I couldn’t ignore them this time.”

  “You’d ignored previous complaints?”

  The chief didn’t look proud of himself. “You know how it is here, Eden. It’s a sleepy town. We’re not as by-the-book as other towns because we don’t need to be. Heck, your own family would’ve been up a creek ten times over if I wasn’t willing to overlook infractions on occasion.”

  That much was true. My family didn’t flaunt their powers in town, but they definitely got themselves into a bind now and again. When Anton was a teenager, he went through a moody, back-talking stage until my mother used magic to hang him from the flagpole downtown by his underpants. Chief O’Neill had to use a fire truck ladder to get him down. Anton fell in line after that.

  “Did Wade pay you not to cite him the previous times?” I asked, incredulous.

  “No, no, it wasn’t like that. I would never accept a bribe.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m an honorable man.”

  “I know you are, Chief.” I felt guilty for suggesting otherwise. “Why did you go yourself? Why not send Deputy Guthrie to give the citation?”

  “Because it was Wade,” the chief replied. “He’s difficult. A little slippery, if you know what I mean. I didn’t think Sean was up to the task. He can be a little…” He faltered.

  “A little incompetent?” I offered. “A complete ass? It’s okay, Chief. You’re dead now. You can say these things and it won’t get back to him.”

  Chief O’Neill dragged a hand through his hair, not seeming to realize he’d only slice the air. “He’s not the worst deputy I’ve had.”

  “That’s high praise, indeed.” I laughed. “He’s annoyed that a new chief was brought in from out of town instead of promoting from within.”

  “Guthrie wasn’t up for the job. He’s an okay kid, but he doesn’t have the chops.”

  “I think it’s apparent to anyone who meets him that Sean isn’t up for the challenge.” Even the cashier in the grocery store could tell you as much.” I thought about Wade Cantrell. “Do you think the citation was a strong enough motive?”

  The chief glanced at me. “Motive for what?”

  “To join the Daughters of the American Revolution,” I cracked. I gestured to his ghostly appearance. “What do you think?”

  Chief O’Neill chuckled. “You always were a smart ass like your father.” His smile faded. “I honestly don’t know. A guy like that…He definitely thinks he’s above the law.”

  “Then we’ll talk to him.”

  “We? So the new chief is investigating my death? What’s he like?”

  I nearly tripped over my tongue to avoid saying “hot.” I made a noise at the back of my throat. “He seems to have his act together.”

  “Well, what’s his story?” the chief pressed. “I assume he’s younger than me.”

  “Oh, yes. No older than thirty, I’d say.”

  The chief whistled, which surprised me. I’d never heard a ghost whistle. “That is young. Younger than I was when I became chief.” He eyed me closely. “He doesn’t know the truth about you, does he?”

  “You’ve known me my whole life and no one told you,” I replied. “Do you really think I’d tell the hottest guy in town that I’m a demon spawn?” Oops.

  The chief cut me a sharp glance. “Hottest guy in town, huh?” He wagged a finger at me. “Careful, Eden.”

  “There’s nothing to be careful about. We’re working together. That’s it.” I steered the conversation back to his death. “You don’t remember anyone pushing you? No hands on your back?” Even if he didn’t see the culprit, he might remember the sensation of being shoved.

  “No, nothing like that.”

  I was starting to wonder whether this wasn’t a case for me, after all. What if there was a supernatural at work? A ghost could have pushed the chief without him realizing what happened. Or maybe this Wade Cantrell was more than human. If so, then I needed to keep Chief Fox in the dark until I had more information.

  “Thanks for your help, Chief,” I said. “Hopefully, we can figure out what happened so you’ll be able to cross over.”

  Chief O’Neill’s gaze darted around the room. “Cross over to where?”

  “To the next place,” I replied. “Heaven, the underworld. Whatever that is for you. I don’t know.”

  His expression became pained. “I don’t know that I want to leave this town. It’s been home for my entire life.”

  “Well, I’m not sure that you’ll get to stay. It’s likely the unfinished business that’s keeping you here.”

  The chief floated in a circle, wringing his hands. “Do you have any pull? Can you keep me here?”

  “Chief, you’re dead,” I said softly. “Whatever’s waiting for you is going to be preferable to haunting Chipping Cheddar.”

  “I’m not so sure,” he said.

  I paused, thinking. “Tell you what. Let’s solve the murder first, to put residents at ease.”

  “Yes, that’s important.”

  “Right. I thought you’d feel that way, having been the chief of police and all. And then we’ll figure out what’s next for you. Sound good?”

  The chief nodded. “How about I go with you? I might remember something if I’m back at the scene of the crime.”

  I started. “You want to go to the marina?”

  “Sure. I’m dead now. What harm can it do to be near the water?”

  He had a point. “Okay, I’ll meet you there.” I had no idea how ghosts traveled, but I assumed he wouldn’t be buckling in to my passenger seat.

  I knew Chief Fox would be annoyed if he found out I questioned a suspect on my own, but he had no way of knowing about Wade Cantrell and I had no way of explaining to him how I identified him as a suspect. ‘I spoke to the victim’s ghost’ didn’t seem like the ideal answer.

  I left the kitchen and returned to my car. I’d never met Wade Cantrell and didn’t know what to expect, but it didn’t bode well that Chief O’Neill disliked him. He liked everyone he met. He could’ve been the mayor if he hadn’t been the chief of police.

  I headed to the marina to find Wade, ready to judge for myself.

  Chapter Eleven

  Like his yacht, Wade Cantrell was hard to miss. He wore Gucci sunglasses and slides with his coral, knee-length shorts and a white polo shirt. His brown hair was perfectly coiffed and his tan likely never faded. He would have looked more at home in Palm Beach than Chipping Cheddar.

  “Excuse me. Are you Mr. Cantrell?”

  He flipped up his shades for a better view of me. “For you? Definitely.”

  Oh boy. I fixed him with a bright smile. “Great. My name is Eden Fury and I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me.”

  “Would love to. Care to ask them on my yacht over a few drinks?” He lifted a suggestive eyebrow.

  Why not? It might loosen his lips and I could take care of myself. “On a hot day like today? That sounds delightful.”

  He beckoned me forward and I dutifully followed. I had no doubt this guy took bubble baths with his sunglasses on. Probably took selfies of it, too.

  I had t
o admit—the yacht was impressive. “This is amazing,” I cooed. “I can’t imagine owning something as spectacular as this. You are one lucky guy.”

  His lips melted into a seductive smile. “I could be luckier.”

  Creep.

  “Allow me to get you a drink.” He went below deck and returned a minute later with two flutes.

  “Prosecco?” I asked, accepting the glass.

  He gave me a tart look. “Champagne.”

  I sniffed it to see if I could identify any drugs he may have slipped in. He struck me as the type. His defense would undoubtedly be that he was so wealthy and fabulous that he didn’t need to resort to drugs to get a girl in bed. As though that was the issue. Thankfully, the champagne looked and smelled clean.

  I took a sip. “Mmm. Bubbles are the best. I like everything fizzy.”

  “You seem plenty bubbly yourself,” he said. “I like a woman with energy.”

  I moved to the edge of the deck, partially for a view of the water and also to be seen by passersby in case Wade decided to push me overboard or worse.

  “This is a wonderful view,” I said.

  “It certainly is.” He joined me, downing his drink in one gulp.

  I didn’t sense anything supernatural about him. If he was responsible for the chief’s death, then he was sneaky about getting him in the water.

  “So what questions do you have for me?” Wade asked. “Are you a journalist? I’ve been featured in Yachters Monthly.”

  “Have you?” I tried to sound impressed.

  His smug expression told me I was successful. “It takes real balls to sail around the world.”

  I never understood that expression—the use of balls to denote toughness or resilience. Balls didn’t push out babies the size of a watermelon. Balls didn’t feed hungry infants in the middle of the night. I figured Wade wouldn’t appreciate my diatribe on balls, so I simply said—

  “Wow.” I sipped again.

  “I know, right? You haven’t seen a sunset until you’ve seen it from the other hemisphere.”

  I was pretty sure it looked the same, but he seemed relaxed enough to get started, so I did. “I understand that you had a heated debate with Chief O’Neill last week.”