Ghosts Gone Wild: A Beechwood Harbor Ghost Mystery (Beechwood Harbor Ghost Mysteries Book 2)

by Danielle Garrett

  What he didn’t say was something along the lines of “it’s not like they have anything else to do,” which obviously would have been way off base. Ghosts—at least the ones in my orbit—were always up to something. That is, when they weren’t randomly disappearing.

  I looked out the passenger window. Ruthie still hadn’t circled back to catch up with us. Where had she gone, anyway? If I had to guess, I would have bet money that she was busy setting off Dr. Barnes’s popcorn machine one last time. For posterity’s sake. But what if she wasn’t? It was the second time that afternoon that I’d had one go AWOL mid-conversation.

  First, Kimberly at the police station. She still wasn’t back. Now Ruthie.

  Something was off.

  My gaze shifted to the business card still pinched between my fingers. “Dr. Padget’s stealing ghosts. Myra. Quinton. And maybe Kimberly too.”

  “I didn’t know there was a third.”

  I gave a slight nod. “We were at the police station. She was there one minute, gone the next. Then there was Ruthie’s disappearing act just now. What if he got to them all?”

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” Lucas replied. “Why would he want a bunch of ghosts? It’s not like he can do anything with them. Right?”

  My fingers closed around the card. “I—I don’t know. I wouldn’t think so, but unless he just wants some kind of weird museum exhibit, there must be some reason.”

  “Are there any connections between the missing ghosts? Family? Friends?”

  “No. Other than the place of death, I suppose. Myra and Quinton have been haunting Beechwood Harbor for some time now. Ruthie and Kimberly are new ghosts. Kimberly’s not even from here.”

  “Let’s start with the best-case scenario,” Lucas said. He lifted a finger, prepared to list the options, but quickly realized he didn’t know where to begin. He dropped his hand back to the steering wheel and glanced at me. “What exactly would that be?”

  “Best case?” I sighed. “It’s a series of séances gone wrong. If a séance isn’t conducted properly, the ghost could, in theory, not know how to find their way back. Ghosts don’t travel like humans. They aren’t bound to this plane, but at the same time, they can’t just continent-hop. So, say someone died here, but his or her family is across the country, like in Kimberly’s case. If they were to go to New York, hire some medium, and called Kimberly forth, they might get lucky. She might hear and respond to the call. At the end, she would be released, back to where she was.”

  “Like a video conference call?”

  I barked out a laugh. “I guess so.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that in that scenario, if the medium, or doctor,” he continued, adding air quotes, “were to not put her back, she’d be … stuck in New York?”

  “It’s possible.”

  He sat back and drummed his fingers along the steering wheel. We idled at the stop sign a moment longer, each lost in thought. The neighborhood was quiet; no one was coming or going so there wasn’t a rush to move on. Other than the general restlessness that was beginning to make my skin crawl, of course.

  “If an inexperienced medium is the best-case, then what are we looking at worst-case?”

  I’d known the question was coming. Lucas was ex-military. He was the man with a plan. Then another plan in case the first one failed. The problem was that I really didn’t have an answer for him. I didn’t even have the beginning whispers of a plan. Whoever—or whatever—was messing with Dr. Barnes’s house was out of my league.

  “I wish I knew,” I finally replied. Sighing, I gestured for him to start driving again. “The shop is closed tomorrow. I always take Monday off. That should give us some time to think and come up with a better plan. Maybe we can visit the post office and see what they can tell us about the doc. I’ll also see if I can get some of the ghosts to stake out the PO Box.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Where to now?” Lucas asked, his fingers hesitating on the turn signal.

  “Lily Pond. I’ll see if Flapjack and Hayward are around.”

  Lucas made the turn. “Hey, isn’t tonight your normal ghost meeting?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, but we’re skipping a week since we had that last-minute one the other night.”

  “Gotcha.” Lucas smiled at me. “The undead sure are organized.”

  “Mostly thanks to Gwen. That is, if she’s even still talking to me.”

  “Why wouldn’t she be?”

  “She’s angry that I’m not spending more time looking for Myra, the first ghost that went missing, and then Quinton, the second, who also happens to be her new boyfriend.”

  Lucas looked like I’d just started speaking Swahili. “Boyfriend?”

  “Beau? Sweetheart? Paramour?”

  “I get the concept,” he said with a wry look. “I guess I’m missing the … well, the point.”

  I shrugged. “The same reason anyone gets into a relationship. Companionship, shared interests, attraction.”

  “Huh.”

  I grinned over at him. “Any of those ringing a bell? After all, you’re the one who got ditched at a restaurant and still came back for more. I must have some kind of hold over you.” I wiggled my fingers as though consulting a crystal ball.

  Not that I’d ever tried anything like that.

  Lucas chuckled and dropped a hand to rest on my knee. “Nah, I’m just here for the ghosts.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  After a distracted, speculation-filled dinner, we returned to my apartment. Lucas made popcorn while I picked out a movie and queued up the DVD player. “What’s our current head count?” He asked, bringing a large bowl into the living room. He grinned as he shoveled a handful into his mouth.

  I glanced around. There’d been more than a few occasions when I actually was in the company of a ghost—or two—without realizing it. They became such a fixture in my life, that sometimes, if they were quiet (which ruled out Flapjack), they could quite literally fly under my radar. “Seems we have the place to ourselves,” I told him. “Which means there will be no one to join your side in protesting when I stick this baby into the machine,” I said with a laugh, holding up the DVD case for one of my favorite rom-coms.

  “I can’t even read it from here, but I’m guessing from the ridiculous amount of white and pink on the box that I’m in for a real treat,” Lucas groused. “You don’t like dresses, you own fewer pairs of shoes than me, and you have kick-ass taste in beer, but you’re still clinging to the romantic comedy?”

  I laughed and slid the disk into the player. “It’s my one girly vice.”

  “Aha.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll still watch the movies where things blow up every two-point-five seconds.”

  “That’s a relief.” Lucas gestured for me. “Come here.”

  The music for the opening credits blared through my modestly sized TV and I went to the couch. Lucas pulled me into his lap and my pulse jolted into double-time.

  “Now, about this no-more-kissing rule,” he started, grinning as he pushed a lock of hair off my face.

  “Hey, you really should have thought of that before you went off eating spiders. I mean, who does that?”

  He slid his thumb over my cheek, cupping the side of my face. My breath hitched as my skin caught fire. “It’s a real shame,” Lucas said, his voice thick and gravely. His eyes dropped to my mouth. “Because I’ve been missing these lips.”

  “I suppose I could make an exception,” I whispered.

  Without another moment of hesitation, he stole a sweet kiss and the movie faded to the back of my mind.

  It was perfection. Better than anything on the small screen across the room.

  Until …

  “Well, I’m sure glad that you’re enjoying time with your boyfriend. Meanwhile, mine is missing!”

  My eyes popped open and I jerked back from Lucas.

  “Scarlet, are you—” He followed my eyes and groaned—not the good kind. “Come on, now!”

 
“Gwen!” I snapped. “What are you doing?”

  She stood in the kitchen, thumping one foot soundlessly on the floor. “I thought you cared about us, but now I see the truth.”

  “Argh! You can’t be serious.” I surged up from Lucas’s lap and knelt on the cushion beside him, facing the opposite way to better glare at my suddenly irrational friend. “Gwen, of course I care! You can’t just pop in here and throw around ugly accusations like that. It’s not fair and it’s not even close to being true. What has gotten into you?”

  Gwen was one of the sweetest souls—living or otherwise—that I’d ever met. The sudden shift in her personality was startling and frustrating.

  “I’m worried sick! That’s what’s gotten into me,” she fired back, crossing her arms.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, forcing myself to take a minute. The last thing I wanted to do was say something I wouldn’t be able to take back.

  “I’m trying to figure it out, Gwen,” I said, reopening my eyes. “We’ve spent this evening tracking down some leads, but hit a dead end.”

  Gwen’s expression remained unchanged. “What about Hayward and Flapjack? Where are they? They could be missing!”

  I sighed. “They’re fine. They went to see a band playing at McNally’s tonight.”

  She huffed. “That’s where you think they are. But they could have been sucked away to the Never Never, just like Myra and poor Quinton!”

  “They’re fine, Gwen.” I drew in another slow breath, trying to slow my racing heart. “I don’t want to fight with you about this. You need to trust me.”

  “Well, maybe I would if you weren’t more concerned with solving some make-believe problem for that horrible Kimberly woman!”

  The mention of her name sparked something and I realized that I still hadn’t seen her.

  Gwen misinterpreted my silence. “That’s right, I saw you at the police station with her.”

  “You did? Have you seen her since then?”

  Gwen’s eye’s narrowed as her posture went even more rigid. “Are you serious? You’re really more worried about her than the rest of us?”

  I folded my arms. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. I think you should leave.”

  Lucas’s eyebrows rose as he glanced up at me.

  “Fine!” Gwen snapped. The lights flickered as her surge of angry energy soared through the apartment. When they went back to full strength, Gwen was gone.

  I sighed and sank back onto the couch, twisting so I was facing forward again.

  Lucas tucked an arm around me. I relaxed against his rock-solid chest and listened to the steady thumping of his heartbeat. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  I shrugged one shoulder. “She’s just upset. I know this isn’t personal. Not at the core of it.”

  “We’ll find this Dr. Padget tomorrow and get to the bottom of this whole mess.”

  I nodded. “Sorry about that.”

  He chuckled. “Part of the package, right?”

  “Unfortunately.” I frowned. “I mean, talk about a mood killer.”

  He reached for my chin and tilted it up. With a smile, he traced a fingertip over my lips. “I think we’ll find a way to get it back.”

  I smiled. “You really don’t want to watch this movie, huh?”

  Lucas laughed and then captured my lips in a kiss that took us right back where we’d left off.

  Chapter 17

  Kimberly showed her permanently made-up face the following morning as I was shuffling into the kitchen to kick on the kettle to make some coffee. I was clearing the sleep from my eyes and walked right into her, which made for an unpleasant reunion for both of us.

  I jolted awake as though she'd dumped a bucket of ice over my head. I yowled, the volume on par with Flapjack’s most extreme hissing fit.

  “Gawd!” Kimberly screeched. “Watch where you’re going!”

  I rubbed my arms and gawked at her. “You could have said something, ya know! I wasn’t paying attention!”

  “Clearly.”

  I growled and cut a wide berth around her, continuing on my path to the kitchen. I needed a steaming cup of coffee even more after the blast of supernatural cold. “What happened to you yesterday?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, giving her head a slight shake. “It was weird. I was there, right behind you. I remember, because I was wondering what on earth you’d been thinking when you bought those shoes. I couldn’t believe some people pay money for shoes that ugly.”

  I scowled at her. “Point, please?”

  She dropped a look down at my feet but resisted further comment. “You went inside but when I tried to follow, it was like something blocked me. I couldn’t go through the door or the wall.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I did!”

  My brows knit together. “I didn’t hear you say anything.”

  “Well the next thing I knew, it was dark, like midnight. I screamed and cried and tried to run, but it was like I was frozen. Trapped.”

  I went still, suddenly even colder. “Trapped?”

  “That’s what I said,” she sniped.

  “A ghost trap.”

  “What are you talking about?” Kimberly asked, pressing one hand to her hip.

  I raked my fingers through my bed-head hair, nervously smoothing back the frizzy and kinked strands. “Kimberly, I think there’s someone who is trying to capture the ghosts that live here. I don’t know why, but ghosts have been going missing for several days now. We’re trying to track down the person responsible, but so far we haven’t had a lot of luck.”

  “Why would someone want to trap a bunch of ghosts?”

  I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

  “Great!” Kimberly threw her hands up. “First I get murdered, now some lunatic is trying to ghostnap me. What’s next?”

  I swallowed hard. “I don’t know. But—and I can’t believe that I’m saying this—I want you to stay close by today.”

  My phone started ringing and I huffed. Abandoning the stove, I went across the living room to retrieve it.

  “What if I don’t want to?” Kimberly asked.

  I ignored her and answered the call. “Hey, Lizzie. What’s going on? Is everything all right?”

  “Um, yeah. I just can’t get inside. I don’t have a key, remember?”

  “It’s Monday,” I said, trying to keep from sighing. Could she not keep the dates straight now?

  “Oh, well I thought we were working this Monday to get the flowers done for the Murram funeral…,” she let her voice trail off and I wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor.

  “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry. You’re 100 percent right. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  We clicked off the call and I raced back to my bedroom to grab a robe. I threw it over my shoulders and fiddled with the sash as I hurried downstairs into the flower shop and went around to the back door to let Lizzie inside. “I’m really sorry!” I said as she came through the door. “Thank goodness you were paying attention. We would have been in a royal pickle!”

  Lizzie smiled and went to put her small purse away in a basket under the cash register. “No problem.” Her smile faltered a little as she took in my strange ensemble; a tattered terry-cloth robe, leopard-print slippers (they were a gift), and dabs of zit cream applied to my chin and forehead that were hopefully preventing two little monsters from ever seeing the light of day. “Umm, I can get started on something if you need a minute.”

  I laughed. “That would be great. Actually,” I paused and opened the cash register drawer. I plucked out a twenty and handed it over. “Would you mind running to Siren’s Song? Get anything you like—it’s on me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, of course. Mind grabbing me a hazelnut latte and a scone? Any flavor. Oh! Except that weird cheese one. Something sweet.”

  She laughed and tucked the money into the pocket of her jeans. “Sure thing. I’ll be back in a few.�
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  I started for the door that led to the back stairway to my apartment. “I’ll leave the back door unlocked.”

  Lizzie left and I scurried up the stairs, surprised that Kimberly had remained behind in the apartment. She wasn’t exactly familiar with the term boundaries. Stepping back into the apartment, I realized why; Flapjack and Hayward were back.

  “What’s she doing here?” Flapjack demanded, glaring at Kimberly from across the room.

  “What is your problem?” Kimberly fired back. “Why don’t you go hack up a hair ball or something?”

  “Oh, ouch, good one.” Flapjack swished his tail and stalked to my side. “Scar, I think it’s time to bust out that pathetic excuse for a frying pan and send her packing. Unless, perhaps, I could talk you into a more permanent solution.”

  “Not right now, Flapjack. She’s going to stay close today. We have a serious problem on our hands.”

  “Yeah, so get used to it,” Kimberly growled.

  Flapjack hissed.

  I cast my eyes to Hayward. “Can I ask a favor?”

  “I would be honored, Lady Scarlet!” He replied, springing to attention. He gave a pert nod and quickly righted his top hat. “What do you need me to do? Say the word!”

  “Can you keep tabs on these two for me today? I completely forgot, but I have to work today.”

  “It’s Monday, Lady Scarlet. The shop is never open on Mondays.”

  “It’s not.” I started down the small hallway and stepped into my bedroom. Hayward stopped at the doorway and removed his hat. He passed it back and forth. I sighed. “You can come in, Hayward.”

  Flapjack didn’t share Hayward’s qualms and stalked in, his tail pointed at the ceiling. “I’m not hanging around with that woman all day.”

  “You have to,” I told him. “Gwen was right. Something is going on. Ghosts are vanishing right from under our noses. I don’t know where they’re going, but I have a lead to someone who might know. The only problem is that I can’t go find him until I get through with work. So, for the next few hours, I need all three of you to stay close.”

  Flapjack sat on the floor between Hayward and me. “No one else is saying it, so I’m going to.”