The bell over the front door jingled, and I looked up, sure I had locked the door. Ian stood there, calm and self-assured, his green eyes focused on me although I had gone invisible as soon as I had entered the shop. “Hello, Liberty.”
“Ian, what are you doing here?” I materialized.
“You are distressed, are you not?”
I gaped at him. “How… Never mind. Yes, I guess I am. Someone is blackmailing me, and I’m going to find out who.”
“I will help you.”
Just like that, with no show of surprise, or even alarm, Ian offered his assistance. He was the only person who knew everything about me. Monica knew nothing of my ghostly wail that I could emit if I were very upset, a sound humans couldn’t hear and that could call all kinds of dark creatures, according to Ian. She didn’t know I sometimes drifted if I didn’t pay attention, and that I suspected I could disappear from existence if I wasn’t careful. Most important, Monica didn’t know I could be banished to a pit of despair that I could not return from. Ian knew everything. He knew my strengths and weaknesses, even my fears. From the fact that he showed up now, our connection meant he also sensed when I was upset—whether or not I wailed.
He approached the counter, and all I could do was sit there watching him come closer, studying his face and trying to read his motives. “Why would you help me?”
“Why would I not?”
Realizing the questioning got us nowhere and Ian didn’t appear to be forthcoming about his reasons, I let it go and focused on the next step. First, I brought him up to speed on all that had happened thus far, including showing him the latest letter. Ian frowned over it, and I leaned closer, waiting for him to tell me he sensed something or that it gave off an aura that would lead us to its writer. His green eyes rose to meet mine, and he raised an eyebrow. I saw amusement in their depths.
“I confess I do not know who wrote this, Liberty, but we will find out.”
I sighed. So much for my notions. “Okay, well I guess the best way to go about this is to question the suspects. I want you to promise me you won’t zap anyone’s mind.”
He stiffened, and offense rolled off him almost visibly. “I do not zap minds.”
I nabbed the letter and folded it to stuff into my pocket. Then changed my mind and handed it back to him. “Can you keep this for me for now. I don’t want it to drop if I have to wink out at any time.”
He took the letter and tucked it away in the pocket of his slacks.
“We have to catch Sharon when the mayor isn’t around and question Bart away from the station so Clark won’t find out about it.”
“You could possess the police chief to question his officer.”
I didn’t even consider this option. “You know how I feel about that.”
“You cannot do anymore damage than has already been done.”
We stepped out of the hardware store, and I locked up before hiding the key. Ian stood in silence watching me. As I turned around, I spotted Bernie heading down Main Street with a passenger in the car. That left us with Isabelle, and I hesitated to interview Clark’s sister with Ian there.
“Maybe he is dropping his fare off at her house?” Ian suggested.
“Of course,” I exclaimed. “Bernie was taking Mrs. Cavendish to her various appointments. Did you notice if it was her in the car?”
I wasn’t sure if Ian’s mind was as quick in deciphering what he saw as his inhuman speed, but it was possible. When he nodded in the affirmative, I gave thanks for small favors, and we both headed off in the direction of Mrs. Cavendish’s house. We waited until we were reasonably sure no one watched us. Then I winked out, and Ian moved at his usual blurred clip. Soon we arrived in Mrs. Cavendish’s neighborhood and spotted the taxi in her driveway. Bernie was just helping Mrs. Cavendish from the vehicle, and she brushed his hand away to straighten and start up the drive on her own.
I made myself visible, and Ian arrived in a breeze beside me. He didn’t give me a chance to open my mouth before he swept forward and invited Bernie to join us for a visit with the elderly woman.
“Ian,” I said in a fierce whisper when both people followed along with Ian’s suggestion. “You promised.”
He looked at me and smiled. The charm radiating from his being swept me up in its magnetism until I found myself seated in Mrs. Cavendish’s living room waiting for her to serve iced tea to all of us. When she left the room, Ian suggested Bernie help her with the tray, and he left as well. I rounded on Ian, furious.
“I told you not to—”
“I assure you, I have not zapped anyone’s mind, Liberty.”
“Call it what you want. Just stop it!”
He sat back on the love seat beside me, calm and comfortable. My glaring did nothing, but after a few moments, he explained.
“A vampire has charm he cannot turn off. You remember I mentioned something about this before.” I was too angry to answer, so he continued. “No matter what I say, I have a certain amount of influence over humans. It could be about the weather.”
“Then how do you get anyone to tell the truth?”
He blinked at me.
“I mean other than controlling them.”
“I word my questions appropriately.”
His existence was complicated. I considered how annoying it would become to have people agreeable with me at all times, to go along with whatever I suggested and never know what they truly felt about me. Then again, these people who did what Ian asked already felt he was wonderful. Just his nature made them that way. What a sad existence.
“You do not have to worry about me, Liberty,” he said as if he knew I had started to pity him. “There are those who have stronger minds and spirits who are not easily influenced.”
“Really?”
He smiled. “Yes, like your chief of police.”
My mouth fell open. “But you made him forget.”
“I meant not influenced unless I used my ‘mind zap.’” Ian joking seemed incongruent with his nature, and I chuckled.
“Oh. Well, that’s good to know.” The truth was, I was pretty sure Clark hated Ian. It might have to do with his being attracted to me, of course. When Mrs. Cavendish and Bernie returned, I dove into the subject of Sadie. “Were you at the park the day of the festival, Bernie?”
Bernie squirmed. His gaze darted to Mrs. Cavendish and back to me. “I have a lot more work with so many tourists in town, but Mrs. Cavendish is my main customer usually, so I try to do what I can for her.”
In other words, he had given the older woman an excuse not to help her so he could make more money that day. I had the feeling he didn’t want Mrs. Cavendish to catch on. “So you were at the park?”
“I might have dropped a fair there a couple times,” he admitted.
“Did you see what happened to Sadie?”
“Poor Sadie.” Mrs. Cavendish produced a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “She didn’t deserve what happened to her. She was a sweet soul deep inside.”
Very deep.
“Of course,” I agreed aloud. I looked pointedly at Bernie, but he fidgeted even more with his regular fare so upset. I knew many people worked more than one job in Summit’s Edge, and no taxi driver could make a living in our town. Bernie needed the little he got from Mrs. Cavendish, and I didn’t want to interfere with that if she fired him. Sweeping at the Laundromat, his other job, couldn’t pay much by itself.
Ian leaned toward Bernie with a half smile that did not light the cold eyes. “Summer tourist season must be a good time for you.”
“Yes!” Bernie beamed, as if a man like Ian McClain understanding him was the highlight of his existence. “I love this time of year. Sometimes, when there’s a festival, I can make enough to have a decent winter.”
“And Sadie?” Ian prompted.
Bernie slumped in his seat, his fingers gripping his pants leg. “I hate that it happened. Some of the tourists have already left, and the festival was cut short after it was found out
that Sadie was murdered. This is not going to be a good summer for me. I don’t know who hurt Sadie, but I wish I could sock him in the nose!”
Ian leaned back, satisfied, and I was too. I doubted Bernie had seen anything, including me winking out in a panic. He would do nothing to affect his summer business, and if he had seen who had, he would be very quick to turn them in. Mrs. Cavendish was another matter, but between crying for Sadie and trying to ply Ian with tea and cake, I couldn’t get anymore out of her than I had at the police station.
“More tea, Ian?” Mrs. Cavendish offered yet again in a girlish tone.
He flashed a bright smile and murmured, “Please. Thank you.”
I blinked from her to Ian’s full glass and back again. Ian did not drink anything but wine and blood, but I couldn’t tell her that. Wait, am I jealous? I thought it over, and it seemed ridiculous, so I dismissed the idea. Ian and I were friends, and to feel anything over this woman’s obvious flirtation with the vampire was silly. Either way, I knew it was time to go.
I stood. “Thank you so much for letting us visit with you, Mrs. Cavendish. Bernie, always a pleasure to chat.”
Bernie scrambled to his feet and dug out a couple of crumpled business cards from his pocket. He handed one to me and one to Ian. “If you ever need a driver, please call me. I’m cheap, and I can be anywhere within about ten minutes or so.”
I couldn’t help the grin on my face, and Ian flicked an eyebrow skyward. Ten minutes was an eternity for both of us to get anywhere in Summit’s Edge.
“Of course,” Ian said and took Mrs. Cavendish’s hand in his. The blush on her face made her look years younger. I thanked her again, and we departed.
“Next?” Ian asked when we were on the street again.
“I guess we can swing by the mayor’s office. It’s getting late, but you never know.”
Ian agreed, and we were lucky again to find Sharon exiting the building. I called to her, and she stopped to look over her shoulder at us. The wary expression made me groan, but as before, the moment Ian began to speak, she melted.
“I don’t think we’ve met before,” Sharon said to Ian, stepping closer. She was of such a small stature, she had to throw her head far back to look into his face. “You’re Ian McClain, aren’t you? All the women said you were cute, but I never imagined…”
I rolled my eyes when Sharon giggled and batted her lashes.
“Ian, this is ridiculous,” I complained.
“Why is she here?” Sharon swept me from head to foot with a glare. I started to feel like I was the one invading her privacy and I needed to let her be alone with Ian.
My partner somehow managed to unhook Sharon’s hand from his sleeve. “Answer Liberty’s questions,” Ian snapped in irritation, and Sharon whirled to face me, her eyes wide and expectant.
I started to speak and then stopped. The glassy look worried me. “You… Ian, you compelled her!”
He made a rude noise under his breath and walked a few steps away. My suspicions were confirmed when Sharon didn’t follow him but stayed there with me, hanging on my next word. I realized it had been a mistake and Ian hadn’t meant it. Sharon’s over-eagerness had gotten to him. My reclusive neighbor was not used to this much social interaction, but hadn’t he demonstrated self-control, even lack of emotion, countless times? Sharon shouldn’t have been able to push his buttons so easily.
“I apologize,” he said, coming back to my side.
“Is this why you don’t come out among the living much? Because we’re all so weak toward you?”
He shrugged. “Partially.”
“You said you can’t turn off the charm.”
“I can suppress myself.”
“What does that mean?” There we were out on the street with Sharon standing like a zombie, and me trying to learn all I could about Ian. I should be home with my son living a normal life. Ordinary didn’t exist anymore, and yet, I was not depressed. I was beginning to accept it, even find fulfillment. Well, after I settled this murder business.
To my surprise, Ian answered my question. I wondered if he did so because he felt guilty for pushing Sharon and going against his promise not to manipulate my interviewees while we were out.
“I can hide myself so that no one can sense me. There are different degrees of this, such as occupying a room while others do not notice. They may walk right by and not see me.
“Interesting. Can you do it whenever you want?”
“I can.”
“Will it work on me?”
“I have not tested it.” He peered at me in the darkness. “I have had no reason to hide from you as yet.”
His statement warmed me, but I shook the feelings away. “Please, undo what you did to her, Ian. I don’t want to rake through people’s minds against their will. It’s not right.”
He flared his nostrils and sighed. I knew his patience also wore thin when it came to my morals, but he gave in. “What I did was not very strong. When I am out of her presence, it will wear off.”
“Good.” I tugged at his arm, and we turned to head down the street at a normal pace. “I remember the women who showed up at your door every day to try to get your attention. I thought it was because of how handsome you are.”
He stopped walking. “Is that your opinion of me?”
I bit my tongue.
“Liberty?”
“Good night, Ian. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
I left him standing there alone and retuned to my home in the blink of an eye. Ian’s and my relationship needed no further complications.
Chapter Eight
I decided it might be better for all involved not to take Ian with me the next time I talked to someone, and since I didn’t get to talk to Sharon at all, I put her at the top of the list. My idea was to invite her out for a jog. I caught her on a day when she was leaving the office early and pretended to be just running by.
“Oh, hey, Sharon,” I called with a bright smile and a wave. “Just out for some exercise. Is this a half day for you? Why don’t you join me?”
My little speech came out too rushed and totally unnatural, but I didn’t have time to kick myself and think of something else. I kept the plastic smile in place and hoped for the best. The harried secretary, who was a bit overweight but nothing more than most of us fought with, bristled. “Are you implying I am fat, Libby Grace?”
“What? No. I-I-I.” This was not the response I had expected. Women were always looking for gym partners or walk buddies, and Monica hated to sweat or exercise. I had never had a problem with that because I enjoyed running alone. However, it never occurred to me Sharon might be offended. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I would never call anyone fat. I just thought we could spend some time together and get to know each other.”
“O-Of course.” Sharon lowered her voice and leaned closer to me. “It’s the mayor. She’s such a cold— You know. There’s no pleasing her. I had to fight to get the afternoon off even though half the time I’m just reading at my desk anyway.”
I recalled the last time I visited the mayor’s office. Sharon had been enjoying a romance novel. I had had the feeling she did so in secret.
“But isn’t this a busy time for you?” I asked. “With the festival and permits and so many tourists in town?”
She waved her hand. “The mayor hobnobs with them not me, and the permits for the vendors are requested and approved or disapproved weeks ahead of time. My part is done.”
“Oh, okay, that makes sense.” I struggled to think of an excuse to get the conversation around to Sadie and her death, but nothing came to mind. “How about I buy you lunch, unless you’re on your way to something important?”
Sharon froze, her lips parted as if she too rushed to come up with an excuse. At last, she shrugged. “Sure, why not. I don’t have any plans.”
We were soon ensconced in a booth at Gatsky’s, the only decent restaurant in town. I ordered iced tea, and Sharon raised her eyebrows at me. The
suggestion of lunch had been out of habit before I remembered my inability to eat. One would think it would occupy my mind twenty-four hours a day. I guess I was getting good at pretending to be alive.
“I forgot I’m on a diet,” I lied. “You know the first thing you think of is food in those instances.”
She patted my hand and then jerked away. “Oh, I think you shocked me.”
“Sorry about that.” I tucked my hand in my lap.
“Don’t worry about it, and I know about the diet. I’m not on any diet right now. I’m eating anything I want.”
“Oh.” Any response I made might offend her, so I kept my comments to myself. Instead I lowered my voice and ducked my head with a conspiratorial attitude. “Did you hear what happened to Sadie Barnett?”
At my topic, Sharon looked positively green around the gills. “Um, yes, of course. Everybody’s heard. It’s sad, but I bet no one’s really sorry it happened.”
I heard the sour note, and my suspicions rose. “I agree with you there. She’s always been a nosey thing, and I don’t think there’s a person in Summit’s Edge who hasn’t felt the sting of her loose tongue.”
Sharon’s hackles rose. “I haven’t done anything to ever need her to gossip about me.”
Her words were a dig at me. “Neither have I.” My words sounded hollow and false even to my own ears. “Any idea why anyone would want to kill her?”
Sharon narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you working for Clark now, or trying to help him in his investigation since you two are dating?”
All hope of getting any information out of her died. “We are not dating.”
“So you are working for him?”
Audrey Claire - Libby Grace 02 - How to Blackmail a Ghost Page 6