The Squeaky Ghost Gets the Curse

by Kennedy Layne

  I thought you might be referring to the vanity license plate—IZZY.

  Isabel Harriet Ashton happened to be the daughter of Florence Isla Ashton.

  “Good catch,” I muttered, not stopping until we reached the grandiose front doors. “Let’s go meet the family, then.”

  I’d already known once the twenty-four-hour window passed that we wouldn’t be able to save Ms. Ashton from being pushed down the stairs to her death, but we couldn’t allow her killer to get away with murder. Unfortunately, I still wasn’t sure if we were dealing with an actual ghost or just a loose stair tread.

  We both know that it wasn’t a loose stair tread, dear hexed one.

  I did agree that the manner in which I saw Ms. Ashton falling down those long and winding stairs hadn’t been a naturally occurring accident. Regrettably, money was usually the number one motive for murder, but who knew at this point? It was a very well-known fact that family members went directly to the top of that suspect list Piper had no doubt already started in that app she’d discovered on her phone.

  I keep saying that technology will be our ultimate downfall.

  “I sorta feel like we’re intruding on their grief,” Piper whispered after I’d use the large brass knocker to announce our arrival. I didn’t see a doorbell anywhere alongside the frame. “I’ll let you do all the talking.”

  I’m surprised Pearl hadn’t tried to stop us from making such a visit earlier this morning. The last case we’d worked on involved staged funerals by werewolves, not that we’d known that at the beginning of the case. All of our questions would have been answered had we crashed a viewing of one of the deceased, but even I had boundaries.

  It’s good to know you’re learning from past mistakes, dear hexed one. This current mystery we’ve found ourselves in is slightly different, wouldn’t you agree?

  Oh, I would definitely agree.

  You see, once Orwin had discovered who owned the particular painting that Pearl had described down to the golden frame, he’d discovered that the Ashton manor had been turned into a bed and breakfast years ago.

  A very special kind of B&B, because it allows us entry into the mansion where we need to investigate a supernatural murder, Miss Lilura. Sometimes Lady Karma decides to bestow upon us a gift.

  “Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure Lady Karma doesn’t like me one darn bit.”

  I wasn’t about to be drawn into a debate about karma when the front door of the mansion was about to be answered by either a family member or the B&B’s staff. The speech we’d rehearsed on the drive here was embedded in my mind, but I practiced it one more time to make sure there was just enough despair that the Ashtons would allow us to stay in a couple of rooms for tonight.

  Orwin and Knox had remained behind at the campsite, though they had every intention of joining us later this evening per the reservation that Orwin had slid into the computer booking system here at the manor. His hacking abilities had already played a large role in allowing us to investigate the B&B’s website and records, as Pearl had already mentioned, but now I had to carry the ball into the end zone.

  Piper and I tensed as the ornate front door began to open, not knowing what awaited us on the other side. The small crack began to widen, though I still couldn’t make out anyone in the shadows. I kept expecting an eerie squeak to emit from the massive hinges, but the door was as quiet as a well-oiled gear.

  It was inevitable that the rays of sunshine beaming down from above would highlight the individual greeting us, and both Piper and I remained quiet when our gazes landed on…

  Oh, dear! What in heaven’s name is that?

  Chapter Three

  “May I help you?”

  I blinked a few times to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. I mean, the sun seemed to be oddly bright for this time of year. As fortune would have it, the golden rays weren’t to blame for the fact that Ms. Florence Isla Ashton was definitely standing before us alive and as well as her age would allow.

  I couldn’t stop the oh-so-elusive emotion—hope—from spreading through me as the woman’s slight Minnesotan accent was said with a rather patronizing tone.

  This definitely had to be our victim.

  Right?

  Unless this is Ms. Ashton’s twin, I’m fairly certain that she’s made out of flesh and blood. Unless…

  Pearl’s astonishment at the sight of our so-called murder victim seemed to have worn off rather quickly, while I was still taking a moment to adjust to this turn of events. Orwin and I had always assumed that there was a twenty-four-hour window based on previous premonitions. For the first time in a very long time, I didn’t mind being in the wrong about the confines of the curse.

  There’s a difference in being wrong and simply miscalculating, my dear hexed one. Don’t shortchange yourself.

  “We have reservations to stay here this evening,” Piper said with a touch of despair, just as we’d rehearsed in the Jeep. She also must have realized that I was still adjusting to the presence of a woman I saw pushed to her death. “I’m Piper Allifair, and this is Lou Lilura. You have such a beautiful estate here, ma’am.”

  “I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken somehow,” Ms. Ashton replied swiftly, not giving me a chance to properly say hello. She lifted an aged hand to her chest. It was then I noticed the white handkerchief clutched between her fingers. “All reservations have been cancelled due to a recent death in the family.”

  Oh, my! Another twist. These murder mysteries do get my heart beating so…

  “I’m so sorry to hear that, ma’am.” Pearl shook her head in sympathy, keeping to the script that would hopefully allow us entry. Given the circumstances and the presence of Ms. Florence Isla Ashton, it was our duty to ensure her safety. “No one called to let us know about the cancellation. You have our sincere condolences.”

  I’m putting this out there for my sweet Piper to include in her new app, but how are we sure that the woman standing in front of us isn’t some sort of strange apparition or one of those zombies? I mean, we haven’t technically seen any evidence that she’s not.

  For one, apparitions were usually ethereal to the point one could see through them. For Pearl to ask such a question after being on the face of this earth for over two thousand years gave me pause.

  Times are changing, Miss Lilura. One never knows what those in the purgatory can do, given enough energy.

  That certainly was a scary thought, and one that I needed to ponder on a bit longer at a later time. Right now, we needed to find a way inside this monstrosity of a mansion so that we could find the killer before he or she succeeded in his or her endeavor.

  “I’m not sure what we’re going to do now,” Piper lamented in a soft tone that would no doubt generate a bit of empathy from the older woman. “There are not a lot of places to stay this far out of the nearest city. The only other bed and breakfast in the area is completely booked for a fall wedding.”

  Ms. Ashton didn’t seem to be falling for Piper’s sob story, which was rather surprising. It was rather strange, given how the newspapers and social media sites had gone on and on about how caring and doting Ms. Ashton was regarding her guests, friends, and family.

  The woman standing before us was completely ignorant of our plight and didn’t care to discuss it further. It was clear that Ms. Ashton had been about to close the door on us when a sweet voice came from somewhere inside the grand entryway.

  “Aunt Faye, who’s at the door?”

  Aunt Faye? Miss Lilura, isn’t that the name of Ms. Florence’s older sister? Not twins, but the resemblance is uncanny, is it not? Oh, how this mystery continues to unfold.

  And just like that, my hope evaporated into nothingness.

  Remember, my dear hexed one, there is always a silver lining in that popped balloon.

  “These people were just leaving,” Faye replied rather dismissively, but thankfully the young woman needed to see what the situation was for herself.

  Have I mentioned I abhor
bad manners?

  “Hello,” a pretty woman in her forties greeted us, coming to stand by her aunt. Her eyes were a bit bloodshot, but she was dressed to the nines, all the way down to the ruby and diamond earrings hanging from her earlobes. “I’m Izzy Ashton. Is there something I can help you with?”

  Now this dear heart was raised correctly.

  “We didn’t mean to intrude on a solemn family moment,” I replied, now that my shock had faded. I’m not usually thrown off balance. Honestly, I’m not sure what my problem was today. “We had reservations for this evening, extending out for a few days. We never received a cancellation notice, but we’ve just been informed that there was a death in the family. We’re so sorry for your loss.”

  Very well said, dear hexed one. There’s hope for you yet.

  “Please, come inside while we sort this out.” Izzy shot her aunt an unyielding stare that all but told the older woman to move aside and let her conduct business. “Aunt Faye, I’ll handle this.”

  Ah, now things are beginning to make a bit of sense. For a brief moment, I thought we might be in some time warp created by Ammeline. I wouldn’t put it past her powers, you know.

  Orwin had done enough research to give us the basic facts on the Ashton family connections, but Piper and I hadn’t stayed long enough to get in-depth details. We also hadn’t had time to piece together a family portrait album.

  As it stood, we’d already whittled away close to forty-eight hours, which was well past our window of saving the victim. Had we waited a bit longer, we might have been better prepared to handle the similarities between the Ashton sisters.

  We did know that Florence also had a daughter and a son, respectively named Izzy and Joshua. The manor did have a regular staff, as well, although Orwin had sent that information to us in a follow-up email that we’d yet to open.

  Piper gave an exclamation of awe underneath her breath as we finally crossed the threshold. We were both from fairly modest backgrounds by comparison, so the astonishing sight of such an affluent mansion was breathtaking. The various statues, art, and antiques had been carefully positioned for the guests to appreciate.

  You would have enjoyed the time I spent in the pyramids with my sweet Cleopatra. Such splendor! Material items are just that, but there are definitely some very precious objects that deserve our admiration.

  Unfortunately, my attention wasn’t on the marbled statues, the expensive framed art, or the marbled pillars. I simply couldn’t stop staring at the long and winding staircase that was spread out before us with a rather large chandelier that could only have been made with a massive collection of the finest Baccarat cut crystal I’d ever seen. The hint of turquois fire within the individual crystals was unmistakable. It had to be an artifact straight from the Museum of Baccarat in Paris.

  Let’s just say that it wouldn’t surprise me if it was the real McCoy.

  My sweet Piper already put down money as a motive in that spiffy app of hers. It is possible that one of the Ashton heirs rigged a wire or something on the upper landing to cause Ms. Florence’s horrific fall.

  The not-so-gentle nudge that I got from Piper told me that I’d been gawking too long at the very spot where the victim had been pushed to her death.

  No worries, dear hexed one. No one seems to have noticed your lapse of attention.

  “Please forgive my Aunt Faye,” Izzy replied with slight mortification, walking past the very spot that Florence had most likely been found sprawled dead in her gorgeous Victorian dress. Izzy’s heels clicked loudly in the pristine marble foyer. “She’s grieving the loss of her sister. Oh, who am I kidding? The two didn’t really care for one another too much, and Aunt Faye isn’t what you would call much of a people person. I should never have left her in charge of canceling the reservations. Joshua said he’d double check, but I didn’t want him dealing with…”

  Oh, dear.

  Izzy’s voice faded, but not before she’d begun to speak really fast and in a strained manner that signified she was ready to break down in tears. Within seconds, she’d covered her face with her hands and began crying uncontrollably.

  Would one of you please console this poor woman and offer her a tissue? This just breaks my heart.

  “There, there,” Piper consoled, wrapping an arm around Izzy as they continued to walk past the long and winding staircase to a small enclave that had been turned into a high-top wooden desk with ornate keys hanging from antique wrought iron hooks. Had I not been so focused on the two women, I might have missed the slight sliver of energy that was no doubt created by Piper. “Loss of a loved one is never easy, but we can take solace in what they loved the most. I take it that your mother was the one who passed away? I read up on her childhood home here at the manor, and she sounded like an amazing woman.”

  Let my sweet Piper do her thing, Miss Lilura.

  I wasn’t so sure Piper’s gift at healing should extend to taking one’s grief away. I mean, I guess the pain of losing a loved one was stored in our hearts and souls, but was it morally right to interfere with the normal progression of the five steps of grief?

  I do so try to keep up with your thoughts, but once again, you’ve detoured to the point where I’ve lost sight of your footprints, Miss Lilura.

  I shifted in unease on my black ankle boots that Pearl seemed to be randomly talking about, noticing that there was a rather large living room off to the right. There was a man wearing a dark suit and talking on his phone while pouring himself some coffee that had been set out on a serving table near the large window overlooking what appeared to be some type of four-season veranda.

  I assumed he was Florence’s son—Joshua Harrison Ashton.

  Joshua seemed to be arguing with whoever was on the other end of the line, but he quickly checked his reaction the moment his gaze caught Faye walking into the room. It was easy to see that she’d immediately launched into an explanation on our identities with little regard to the fact that he was conversing with someone else on the phone.

  In all likelihood, both Izzy and Joshua were probably in line to inherit the manor, along with the entire estate. His body language all but screamed that he’d rather be anyplace other than here, especially the way he compressed his lips in irritation when it was clear Faye wanted him to take charge of the situation and run us off.

  People grieved in different ways, but Izzy seemed more affected by their mother’s passing than Joshua. It wasn’t my place to pass judgment, so I gave him a small smile when he glanced our way.

  I should have saved the energy.

  Joshua dismissed me with a simple frown before turning his attention back to his phone call while picking up his coffee cup.

  I’m sorry, dear hexed one. Can we get back to your muddled thoughts for a moment? Let me clarify something you don’t seem to understand. My sweet Piper has the ability to heal, but it does not extend to emotional damage. What is this sliver of energy you say you felt a moment ago?

  I quickly glanced back at Piper still comforting Izzy, who was now dabbing her eyes with the tissue Piper had found behind the cherry wood counter. They were still discussing how much Florence had loved the manor, and that her dream was to have others enjoy what she’d had since her childhood.

  Pearl was right.

  Piper was doing nothing but comforting Izzy like any other caring person would do in this situation.

  So where had that sliver of energy come from that I’d sensed when we walked closer to the—

  Oh, bollocks!

  It was so rare that Pearl interrupted a thought or a verbal conversation that I immediately understood her expletive meant we were in deep trouble.

  You wouldn’t happen to have some unprocessed salt on hand, would you, dear hexed one?

  Natural salt fresh from the sea was known in some circumstances to keep evil spirits at bay, but I highly doubted the delicious condiment would be enough to keep a bona fide poltergeist at bay—and one that happened to be standing in the exact spot as Florence Isla
Ashton had been in my vision.

  Chapter Four

  “Was that…”

  Piper’s barely perceptible whisper trailed off as her gaze gradually slipped from the staircase landing to Izzy, who was asking us a question about our reservation as if nothing unusual had happened. She was lifting the lid to a compact laptop on top of the desk, but I’d been so caught up in my surroundings that I’d missed half the conversation.

  With good reason, my dear hexed one. I do believe we might have just encountered the ghost who murdered Ms. Florence Isla Ashton.

  The spirit had disappeared from the landing of the staircase as quickly as it had materialized. Regrettably, I hadn’t gotten a good look at the ethereal mist. As a matter of fact, no one outside of Pearl, Piper, and me seemed to have caught sight of the spirit at all.

  Was that due to our supernatural gifts or had the apparition appeared only to us by its own design?

  The latter would not bode well for us, Miss Lilura. Poltergeists gain strength the longer they remain beyond the veil and interact with beings on our side. Who knows how long this roaming poltergeist has been encased inside this manor? I have a feeling that we are not dealing with Casper the Friendly Ghost here.

  “I’m not sure why you didn’t receive a cancellation notice,” Izzy replied, having composed herself quickly and was clicking away on a keyboard hidden from the casual viewer. She seemed puzzled at what the screen was showing, but I trusted that Orwin had gained access to their software and made sure our names were still listed as guests for this evening. “It seems that our system only sent cancellations for a few reservations, leaving three other rooms booked.”

  Mr. Cornelia at his finest. I do give that alien hunter credit when credit is due.

  “That would be our room, along with our friends who are supposed to be arriving later this evening,” I replied, feeling completely back to normal. I took a step forward toward the high-top desk, the haze of my surroundings having completely lifted with the departure of the ghostly apparition. I’m not quite sure the reasoning for that, but I was now feeling more like myself and able to take control of the situation. “As Piper said earlier, you have our deepest condolences on the loss of your mother. We’ll be getting on our way to allow you and your family—”