Spooky Times (Alice Whitehouse Book 1)

by Nic Saint

  But Gemma waved a hand, turning her face away. “Don’t look at me, Alice. Don’t look at my ghastly crater face.”

  “Your face is fine, Gemma.”

  “Of course to you everything looks fine, Alice. That’s because you have the taste of a ninety-year-old!”

  “Thanks for that,” I said, then turned to my uncle. “She says she would like to be buried in a potato bag. And she asks that you shave her head. She always wanted to look like a punk star. Oh, and if you could give her a nose piercing, that’d be just swell.”

  “No!” Gemma cried.

  “Look, ever since we met—again—you’ve been acting like a regular stinker. So either you’re going to be nice to me from now on, or I’m having you buried looking like that,” I said, pointing at her body.

  “Alice, be nice to the customers,” my uncle grumbled.

  “Well, it’s not as if she’s going to post on Yelp,” I said.

  “Oh, all right,” Gemma said finally with an annoyed grunt. “I’ll behave.”

  “So? Any last requests?”

  She stared down at her body once again, then said softly, “Could I be buried in my wedding dress? It was the best day of my life, after all.”

  I frowned at her. “I didn’t know you and Chad were married.”

  “We were. We eloped to Las Vegas. My family kept it on the down-low.”

  “A Las Vegas wedding, huh? So where is this dress?”

  “In my bedroom closet. You can’t miss it. It’s folded up in a box that says, ‘Most Beautiful Bride Ever.’” She sniffed. “Chad wrote that.”

  “I’ll get you your dress,” I said.

  “What if her family refuses?” my uncle asked.

  “Then you’ll just have to convince them,” I said vehemently.

  He nodded, and softly started to sing, “Viva Las Vegas.”

  “Thanks,” Gemma said, wiping away a tear. “Thanks for everything, Alice.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said gruffly, though my eyes were a little moist, too.

  Chapter 18

  I rode my bike down to Gemma’s place, determined to find that wedding dress and hand it to my uncle so he could dress her up in it. Gemma had told me how to get into the house: she kept a key in a hollowed-out turtle near the front door.

  I stooped down and found the key where she said it would be. I let myself in, hoping the neighbors wouldn’t report me. Then again, those same neighbors hadn’t seen the killer sneak up on Gemma and knock her out, so why would they bother about a common sneak thief like me?

  I stepped into the house and felt a little weird, walking into the home of a recent murder victim. Gemma had certainly had taste. The walls were cream-colored, the floors gleaming hardwood, and the furniture was all light wood with crepe upholstery. I liked her style. Police had rummaged around, and had left the place looking less than tidy. As soon as Gemma’s family arrived, they’d probably strip the place and put it on the market.

  I headed up the stairs and into Gemma’s bedroom, which was just as light and airy as the rest of the house. A big cardboard box was open on the bed, and when I peered inside, I saw that it was empty. Then I noticed a sliver of white sticking out from between the flaps at the bottom of the box and pulled out a single postcard. It depicted a vividly colorful floral theme. On the back someone had scribbled, ‘Love you to death, Babes.’ The signature was a little hard to make out, but it very much looked like ‘The Chadster.’ I smiled, then stared down at the empty box. It stood to reason it had contained many more cards and possibly even letters. Had the police taken them? I’d have to ask Rock.

  I didn’t have time to dwell on this minor mystery, as Uncle Charlie was waiting at the funeral home. I opened the bedroom closet, which spanned an entire wall, and searched the upper shelves for the box labeled ‘Most Beautiful Bride Ever.’ I finally found it and brought it down and placed it on the bed.

  Opening it, a mass of white tulle jumped out at me. Yep. I’d found the dress. I tucked it back in as best I could, slipped it into the bulky plastic bag I’d brought and walked out after one final look around.

  For the next few hours, Uncle Charlie and I dressed and primped Gemma up, and I thought she looked even better now than she ever had in real life. Her blond hair had a lustrous sheen, her face displayed a serene expression—and no craters—and in the dress she did look like the ‘most beautiful bride ever.’

  “You guys did such an amazing job,” Gemma said when she finally saw the end result. “Where were you when I was still alive? I could have used a makeup artist like your uncle Charlie.”

  “Well, I’m afraid Charlie only does dead people,” I said, and immediately thought that sounded a little weird.

  “Too bad. He could make a killing as a stylist. He could even work for one of the big fashion houses. They can always use talented people for their shows.”

  I had to smile at that. Uncle Charlie at New York Fashion Week with me as his assistant. Why not?

  “You know, you have a great sense of style, too, Gemma,” I said.

  “I know,” she said, very immodestly I thought.

  “I love what you did with your house. I think I might steal some of your ideas.”

  “Go ahead. I’m sure whoever buys the place will throw everything out.”

  “Did you… leave a big box open on the bed?” I asked, that empty box still intriguing me.

  She frowned. “What big box?”

  “Well, it was empty, apart from one postcard. It said ‘Love you to death, Babes.’ And I think it was signed ‘The Chadster.’”

  She smiled. “I remember that card. Chad sent it when he spent the weekend down in Boca with his folks. He wanted to invite me along but my parents forbade it. They never liked Chad, which is why we eloped to Vegas.” Then she frowned again. “Where did you say you found that card?”

  “On top of the bed, in an otherwise empty cardboard box.”

  She shook her head. “Those cops. They must have ransacked the place. I put that box in the attic when Chad and I broke up. So you’re saying it was empty?”

  “Yep. That card was the only thing inside. It was wedged at the bottom of the box.”

  “That box was full of memorabilia. All the letters and postcards Chad sent me. My diaries. My photo albums. Even my marriage license. Everything about my life with Chad. After I broke up with him, I decided I was going to get rid of everything that reminded me of him and our life together. So I removed all the framed pictures, packed up all of his stuff and put it in that box.”

  “And you didn’t take it down and empty it out?”

  She shook her head, looking really upset now. “I was going to, since Chad and I were getting back together. He was going to his AA meetings and cleaning up his act, just like I’d told him to a million times. But I hadn’t touched that box.”

  “The police must have taken it down and logged everything as evidence,” I said, though that seemed highly unlikely. They would only do that if they considered Chad a prime suspect, which as far as I knew they didn’t.

  “I want my cards back,” Gemma said now. “And my pictures and my diaries. That’s my stuff and I want it back.”

  “I’ll talk to Rock,” I said. “I’m sure some overzealous rookie took it.”

  I had no idea what Gemma was going to do with her old photo albums now that she was dead, but I could definitely see where she was coming from. I wouldn’t like it if anyone messed around with my stuff, even after I was gone.

  “I’ll make sure the police return everything,” I told her.

  “Thanks,” she said, giving me a watery smile. And then I saw it wasn’t her smile that was watery. Her entire body was shimmering in and out of focus, as if she was on the verge of disappearing entirely.

  “Um, Gemma? How are you feeling?”

  “What kind of a question is that? Not fine. If you hadn’t noticed, I’m dead.”

  “Yeah, but you’re also kinda disappearing,” I said.

&nb
sp; She glanced down at her herself and gasped. “I’m becoming invisible! Alice, what’s happening to me!”

  “You’re transitioning. It happens.” Though it was rare, as most murder victims tended to stick around until their murderer was caught. Apparently Gemma wasn’t going to hang on long enough for that to happen.

  “You have to get a move on,” she admonished me now. “I want to know who did this to me! And I want to know now!”

  She was back to stomping her foot, though the effect was less pronounced than before, as she was growing fainter while I watched.

  “I will catch your killer,” I promised her.

  “You better,” she warned me. “Or else I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life!”

  And… the old Gemma was back.

  Chapter 19

  I decided to drop by the police station to have a chat with Rock. I didn’t think the missing box with memorabilia of Gemma’s marriage with the Chadster was extremely important, but it was one of those loose ends that bothered me. If I’d learned anything about sleuthing it was that loose ends were not a good thing. Besides, I needed to touch base and see if the professional sleuths had made any progress in solving the case. And, who was I fooling, I wanted to meet Rock again. The man had left an indelible impression.

  The Happy Bays police station is a modest squat one-story affair. I waltzed in and allowed my eyes to drift across the open-floor-plan-style office, where Happy Bays’ finest were hard at work fighting crime, processing traffic tickets and scarfing down donuts, most of them procured from Bell’s Bakery.

  I saw Rock, his desk snugly bumping up against Virgil’s, and walked over. But even before I reached them, I was waylaid by my dad, who came shooting out of his office the moment he caught sight of me. He took me by the arm and growled, “Alice. A word?”

  I followed him into his office. He didn’t leave me any choice in the matter, as his hand was clamped to my upper arm like a vice. “Um, Dad? What’s this about?” I asked as soon as we’d entered his office and he slammed the door.

  Without a word, he gestured for me to take a seat across from his desk, while he stalked over to the window and looked out. He stood hands on hips, legs wide, the typical policeman’s power stance, without uttering a word. I had the impression he was fuming, and trying to collect himself before he spoke.

  “Are you all right?” I asked. “Did something happen to the chickens?”

  He whirled around on me, his face a mask of fury. “No, nothing happened to the chickens. The chickens are fine. Just fine and dandy.”

  “Oh. So they’re laying eggs already?”

  He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Forget about the chickens!”

  I gave him a questioning look. “You look a little rattled, Dad.”

  The veins at his temples were throbbing. “And why wouldn’t I be? One of my men reported that he saw you making out in one of my squad cars with Detective Walker!”

  My lips formed a perfect O. “Oh.”

  “It’s bad enough that you keep running your alternative police force, butting into my investigations, inducing my men to take you along on official police interviews, but now you’re putting the moves on my men, too?”

  Indignation flooded through me. “I didn’t put the moves on Rock. He put the moves on me. And for your information, we weren’t making out. All he did was plant a very modest, very short kiss on my lips.” Much too modest. Much too short.

  He closed his eyes, pained. “Don’t give me any details! I don’t want to know!”

  I got up and planted my hands on his desk, palms down. “And what’s so wrong about Rock kissing me anyway? Is there a law against cops kissing now? Some new rule in the Happy Bays Police Department rulebook I’m not aware of? Cause if there is, I’d sure like to know.”

  I was shouting as loud as my dad was now, my face flushed as we stood glaring at one another from opposite sides of the desk. I think our voices must have carried, for I suddenly became aware of a hush that had descended on the office, and when both my dad and I turned, we saw that all eyes were on us, anxiously awaiting further developments.

  With an annoyed grunt, Dad yanked down the blinds and sat down. “Look, it’s bad enough that you’re running that neighborhood watch and undermining my authority every time you or that crazy Holy Trinity start buzzing around Happy Bays with those ridiculous Mini Coopers, like some joke vigilante force, but now you’re kissing cops? While they’re supposed to be on the job? Don’t you see how your behavior reflects on me? I’m the chief, and pretty soon I’m going to be the laughing stock of the entire force. If the mayor finds out, I’m toast!”

  “I don’t get it,” I said, also taking a seat again. “What does the mayor have to do with my private affairs, because make no mistake, who I kiss or don’t kiss is my business and nobody else’s.”

  “Not in Happy Bays, where everybody is all in everybody else’s business all the time. People will say you’re out of control. That Chief Whitehouse can’t even control his own daughter.”

  “You probably wish you hadn’t spread that story about preventing me from becoming a cop, huh?”

  He gave me his best scowl. “I knew you wouldn’t let that go so easy.”

  “I’ve been giving it some thought, Dad, and now I’m wondering what’s worse: people thinking I’m a loser for failing Police Academy, or people thinking my own dad doesn’t want me on the force.”

  “They know I just want what’s best for you.”

  “Then they also know I’ll kiss whoever I want.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Not when the man you’re kissing is on my payroll.” He took a packet of Camels from his desk and took out a cigarette.

  “I thought you quit?”

  “I did quit. A long time ago,” he snarled, then snapped the cigarette in half and pounded it on his desk with his fist, stuffed the packet back into the drawer and slammed the drawer shut. “Alice, honey,” he said, his voice taking on a pleading tone. “You’re putting me in an awfully difficult position here.”

  I watched as he carefully swept the smashed-up cigarette into the trash can. I wondered if this was a new ritual he’d developed.

  “What do you want me to say, Dad?”

  “Are you and Rock an item now? I mean—how do you kids say it these days? Are you hot for the guy?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ugh. I’m not ‘hot for the guy,’ Dad. It was just a kiss.”

  “Well, in my day a kiss was a big deal.”

  It still was a big deal, at least to me. “Look, Rock and I are not an item, all right?”

  He nodded. “I don’t want to pry—and I definitely don’t want to be all over your personal affairs. But this is bigger than you and Rock.”

  “Because you’re the Chief. And I’m the Chief’s daughter.”

  “It gets complicated once you occupy this office,” he admitted.

  I could see that. Happy Bays had always been a hotbed of gossip, and if Rock and I got together, it was going to create quite a storm. I still didn’t see why this would be anyone’s business but my own, but I could see where Dad was coming from. “Look, nothing happened, all right? It was just a friendly kiss. I don’t even know if he likes me or anything…” Gah, I so didn’t want to have this conversation with my dad, of all people.

  He held up his ham-sized hand. “Just… whatever you do, be careful.”

  “I know all about protection, Dad.”

  He raised his eyes heavenward. “I’m not talking about protection!”

  Yeah, it was obvious my dad didn’t want to have this conversation any more than I did. In spite of the tenseness of the situation, I had to suppress a giggle.

  “Just be discreet about it,” he said. “If you and Rock want to… you know.”

  “Yes, I know,” I quickly said. “No need to spell it out, Dad.”

  “Do it where no one will catch you. At least until you’re sure you’re into the guy. And he’s into you. I mean, that you’re into e
ach other.” He threw up his hands. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I think I do. You made your point.”

  “Good. That’s all I wanted.”

  I glanced at the closed blinds. “So everybody knows, huh?”

  “Everybody and their grandmother,” he confirmed.

  “Great. That’s just great. I don’t even know if I like him. Or if he likes me.”

  “That’s the curse of being a Whitehouse in this town, honey.”

  “When you and Mom… you know.”

  “That was different. Your mom wasn’t a cop, and my dad wasn’t her boss.”

  Yeah. I could see how that would annoy the crap out of my dad. “Okay,” I said, getting up. “I guess we’re done here.”

  “I guess we are,” he said, a little wearily. “Oh, before I forget. I received a complaint about your watch.”

  “What complaint?”

  “Mrs. Evergreen came in this morning. Claims you’ve been harassing her? Staking out her place? Sitting out in front of her house in cars watching her?”

  “Oh, come on, Dad. That woman is a menace! She never cleans up after Sheena.”

  “Sheena?”

  “Her bulldog.”

  “Of course.”

  “We just want to catch her in the act, collect proof, and turn her in.”

  “So I can lock her up and throw away the key, right?”

  I eyed him a little sheepishly. “Something like that.”

  “Littering is not a criminal offense, honey. There are worse things than dog poop.”

  “Name one.”

  “Murder, for one thing. Why don’t you focus on the Gemma Weston case, and leave Mrs. Evergreen in peace?”

  “Wait. Are you actually telling me to investigate a murder?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I can hardly believe it myself, but we’re at a loss here. Anything you can do to find me a suspect will be much appreciated.”

  I gave him a radiant smile. “I’d never thought I’d hear you say it.”

  He gave me a tired look. “Believe me. Me neither. And I hope you’ll never hear me say it again.”