Ghost a la Mode [Granny Apples 01]

by Sue Ann Jaffarian

  “Then why did you agree to help when Milo told us about his vision? If you don’t believe in these things, then why have your friend check out my car?”

  “I wasn’t going to take a chance with your safety. It doesn’t take long to check the soundness of a vehicle. If that’s all it took to give you and your friends peace of mind, then I was going to do it.”

  All of a sudden, Phil looked around. “Did you feel that? Sure got cold in here suddenly. The a.c. must have kicked on.”

  “It’s not the air conditioning, Phil. The ghost of Granny Apples just came in. The air always turns a bit cold when ghosts are present.” Emma shifted her eyes to the table next to the sofa. “She’s over there, by the end table. To your right.”

  After shifting his body a foot or so to his left, Phil turned his head to his right. All he saw was air.

  “Didn’t you notice how cold it got in the bathroom? She was in there with us for part of the time.”

  Emma looked over at the ghost. “Granny, we need to talk, so don’t you go disappearing on me again.”

  “You staying to help?” asked the ghost.

  “I’m staying because Milo says I’m in danger if I leave. He also told me I’m in danger if I stay. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place and need your help.”

  Phil Bowers remained on the sofa, watching and listening to the one-sided conversation. But suddenly, before Emma said anything more, she rocketed to her feet. Turning around, she covered her ears with her hands and stared at a place near the window, her face a mask of fright. He heard and saw nothing. If Emma Whitecastle was playacting, she was doing an expert job of it.

  The screams pierced Emma’s head like an ice pick and sent Granny Apples packing. Standing near the window was the ghost of Garrett Bell, his mouth open as he let out shriek after shriek.

  “Stop it, Garrett! Stop it this minute!”

  Phil leapt to his feet and pulled one of Emma’s hands from her ears. “What’s going on, Emma?”

  “It’s the spirit of Garrett Bell-the person you knew as Ian Reynolds. He’s here, and he’s screaming over and over. He’s scared off Granny.”

  Garrett stopped. “Isn’t that what ghosts are supposed to do, Emma? Or are you only comfortable with Casper-like friendly ghosts?”

  “Who killed you, Garrett?”

  “The same one who’s going to kill you, my dear, as soon as he gets what he wants”

  “Who is it, and what does he want?”

  “You’re so smart, you figure it out.”

  And then he was gone.

  Emma stared at the empty space long after the ghost left. Phil stayed by her side. When she walked over to the sofa to sit down, Phil perched on the arm of the sofa.

  Emma told Phil what had transpired between her and Garrett Bell’s ghost.

  “I see he’s just as obnoxious in death as he was in life.”

  “So you believe me?”

  “I believe you believe.”

  It wasn’t the answer she’d hoped for, but it would do for now. She gave him a flicker of a smile before sitting up straight. It was time to get down to business.

  “Granny, you get back here. I need you.” She continued calling for the ghost of Granny Apples until she finally saw a shimmer, followed by the familiar image. Granny sat in a small rocker across from the sofa.

  Emma fixed her eyes on Granny’s face. “Granny, do you want me to die?”

  “No, of course not,” answered Granny.

  “I helped you. Now it’s your turn to help me, even if it means staying around when Garrett Bell comes back.”

  “Garrett Bell can’t hurt you, Emma. He’s dead.”

  Emma gave Phil a running commentary on the conversation.

  “Yes, he is, but the person who killed him isn’t. Garrett just said that as soon as that person gets what he wants, he’s going to kill me, too.” When Granny didn’t respond, Emma continued. “Granny, do you know who killed Garrett?”

  “No, Emma, I don’t.”

  “Wait,” said Phil. “Why don’t the ghosts know who killed Garrett? He’s one of them now, isn’t he?”

  Emma leaned her head against the back of the sofa. “Billy might have seen it, but I’d have to get into the cemetery to ask him.”

  “Good luck with that. It’s all cordoned off,” Phil scoffed. “Of course, we could always hold a seance right here and ask him to join us.”

  Emma shot him a sour look, then sat straight up. “I just had a thought”

  Getting up, she grabbed her phone and her purse and came back to the sofa. After digging out the slip of paper with Ian Reynolds’ phone number, she dialed it, putting the call on speaker. After four rings, a message came on. The person identified himself as Ian Reynolds, but the voice was nothing like Garrett’s; it was older and thicker. Without leaving a message, Emma closed the phone.

  “That didn’t sound at all like Garrett Bell, yet that’s the number the museum had. That person called them looking for family information a few months ago. It makes me wonder if the real Ian Reynolds was letting Garrett impersonate him to work with the spirits and you to get the land?”

  Phil scratched the top of his head. “You thinking maybe the real Ian is the killer?”

  “It’s just a thought”

  She looked over at the ghost. “Did you know, Granny, that when Garrett died, he was posing as Ian Reynolds?”

  “Why would he do a fool thing like that? He doesn’t look anything like him.”

  “You know what Ian looks like?”

  “Yes. I tried contacting him, remember? He’s a much older man than Garrett-or was.”

  “Was?” Emma got up and went to stand closer to Granny, to make sure she heard her answer.

  “Ian Reynolds died, Emma. Not too long ago.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  Granny nodded. Emma noticed that she was starting to fade and hurried with her train of thought.

  “Is it possible, Granny, for you to round up Ian’s ghost?”

  “I’ll try.” She disappeared.

  During the exchange, Phil had gotten up from the sofa and posted himself at the dining table across the room. He watched Emma talking to thin air and listened when she relayed Granny’s responses to him. He tried to make himself believe.

  The ring of his cell phone interrupted Phil’s thoughts. Emma watched as he spoke with someone on the other end, waiting to see if it was news about her car. As the call went on, Phil got more and more agitated.

  “That was Gopher.” His tone was urgent. “Let’s go, we have to get down there.”

  “There was something wrong with the car?”

  “Not really.” Phil guided her out the door, and she locked up. “But when his son took it out for a test drive, he got into an accident. Seems there was a sack of rattlers under the driver’s seat. Brad was bit while driving.”

  Phil’s truck was parked at a friend’s stable near the graveyard. They headed in that direction at a trot, oblivious to the heat and the people staring at them. Phil took the truck slowly down Main but opened it up as soon as he cleared the more populated town area. In less than two minutes and several wild turns later, they came upon the scene of the accident. Phil brought the truck to a stop several yards away and hopped out. Emma followed.

  Both paramedic and sheriff vehicles were present, as well as two other trucks. The paramedics had an injured man on a stretcher, getting ready to transport him for medical care. Emma could see his head was bandaged and that the left side of his jeans had been cut away. Bandages swaddled his left ankle. He looked to be in his twenties. The Lexus had gone hood-first into a tree.

  As the paramedics hoisted his son into the ambulance, Gopher came over to Phil and Emma.

  “I am so sorry, Gopher,” said Emma. “Is he going to be all right?”

  “Should be,” Gopher told them, his face dark with worry. “The scrapes on his head and face are from the air bag. And it’s a good thing, or his head would have
gone through the windshield.”

  “What happened, Goph?” asked Phil.

  “We couldn’t find a single thing amiss with the car, so I told Brad to take it out and see if he could feel anything wrong with the way it handled. The boy’s a natural when it comes to anything with wheels.”

  A paramedic waved to Gopher. “We’re leaving now.,,

  “His mother and I will be right behind you.” He turned back to Phil and Emma. “Near as we can tell, the snakes probably got loose near the end of Brad’s drive. He might even have kicked them with his left foot. Who knows. Fool kid, if he hadn’t been playing the radio so loud, he might have heard them first. He received two bites to his ankle, just above his sneaker. Lost control of the car and ended up in the tree.” He tried to clear the emotion from his voice but failed. “Good thing the shop’s just up this road. We heard the crash and ran down.”

  “I am so very sorry, Gopher.” Emma started weeping.

  “Thanks, but unless you keep snakes in your car as a hobby, miss, it wasn’t your fault. Animal Control found three rattlers. Someone’s out to hurt you, just as Phil here suspected.”

  “Please don’t worry about anything, Gopher,” Emma told him, swallowing back bile. “I’ll take care of any medical expenses. Just tell Brad to get well.”

  As Gopher left to follow his son to the hospital, Detective Hallam approached. With her was a man in a suit, whom she introduced as Detective Bill Martinez.

  Detective Martinez pointed toward the smashed car. “We’re told that’s your car, Ms. Whitecastle. That true?”

  Emma nodded, unable to speak.

  “Those your snakes?”

  She shook her head back and forth.

  It was then she heard the laughter. No one else paid attention to it, but she heard it clear as clean water. She turned in the direction of the sound and spotted the ghost of Garrett Bell.

  Small sparks ignited in front of her eyes. Just as she fell toward the ground, Phil caught her.

  “So THIS PSYCHIC, THIS-,” the detective looked down at his notes, “Milo Ravenscroft-told you he saw you getting into a bad car accident, so you had your car checked out?”

  Emma nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

  “He didn’t see the snakes?” Detective Martinez looked across the small metal table at her, his face without expression.

  “No. He just saw my car weaving and going over a cliff, with me in it.”

  “And your car has been parked next to the Julian Hotel the whole time you’ve been here?”

  “Except for when I went to the Bowers ranch and to Ramona. But it hasn’t moved since late yesterday afternoon.”

  “And you noticed nothing the last time you drove it?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “How about today, when you put your luggage in the car?”

  “I never opened the car, just the trunk. Same thing when I got my bag out to go to the cottage.”

  This time the questioning didn’t take place in the park but at the sheriff’s office. Both Detective Martinez and Detective Hallam were present. A third detective was questioning Phil Bowers separately.

  Emma told them everything, holding nothing back. She told them that Ian Reynolds, the dead guy, wasn’t really Ian Reynolds, and how she knew. The detectives listened patiently and took notes. One of them left and returned later to confirm that through fingerprints the crime lab had identified the victim as Garrett Bell, a clairvoyant and scam artist.

  “You know,” said Detective Hallam, “if you did know this Bell character before coming to Julian, we will find out.”

  “I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t know who he was. Before yesterday, I’d never heard the name Ian Reynolds, and this morning was the first time I’d ever heard the name Garrett Bell.”

  “And the ghost of Bell told you who he was?” asked Hallam.

  They’d been over this information time and time again. Emma knew the repeated questions were an attempt to trip her up, but since she was telling the truth, there was nothing to stumble over.

  “No,” she said, repeating her story. “As I told you, when he first appeared, the ghost of Garrett Bell only said my name. Milo told me who he was after he was already dead.”

  Detective Martinez looked at Emma. He was a tall, attractive Latino in his late thirties, with thick black hair and chocolate eyes. Eyes that bore into her own without mercy in search of the truth.

  “We did confirm that an Ian Reynolds died about a month ago of natural causes. He lived in Woodland Hills-same phone number as the one you gave us. We’re following up to see if there was a connection between him and Bell.” He looked down again at the notes he’d taken. “Where can we reach this Milo Ravenscroft?”

  “I have his cell phone number, but he’ll be here shortly,” she explained, looking at her watch. “As soon as he had the vision about my accident, he and my friend Tracy got on the road to Julian. They’re going to call me when they reach town.”

  Detective Martinez studied her. “You feeling okay? Just let us know if you feel faint again.”

  Emma took another drink of the cold soda they’d given her. “Thank you, but I’m fine now.”

  Detective Hallam paced the small room. She’d removed the jacket to her pantsuit, revealing a gun tucked into a shoulder holster. “We will want to talk to them as soon as they arrive,” she said, “especially Mr. Ravenscroft. Where are they staying?”

  “We’re all staying at a cottage here in town. I rented it today.”

  “Emma,” started Martinez, “why would someone you don’t know masquerade as a dead long-lost relative?”

  “I honestly think Garrett Bell was impersonating Ian Reynolds long before he knew about me. He told me someone tipped him off that I had met Phil Bowers and was interested in the property. He said he came to Julian to talk to me. He even followed me to the cemetery last night.”

  “That’s where you injured your hand, correct?”

  “Yes”

  “Did he say what he wanted to talk to you about specifically?”

  “No. He never got the chance. He did tell me, though, that he could see the ghosts, same as I could. That’s how I knew he wasn’t Ian Reynolds” She stopped to take another drink. “He was trying to get the Bowers family to sell him the Reynolds property. I think he was hoping to use his supposed blood tie to the property to get the Bowers family to sell it to him-kind of guilt them into it with the proof that it was stolen from Jacob and Ish through murder. I also think that he was hoping to get me on his side-another blood descendant to help in his cause.”

  “How would he know it was stolen? Through these letters?” Martinez tapped copies of the letters Emma had given them.

  “Yes. The woman at the museum said a man named Ian Reynolds had called her. From the number she had, I think her contact was with the real Ian Reynolds. She told him about the letters, and he said he would get them from the library. It was in La Habra, I believe.”

  Emma took another drink. Her throat was parched from all the talking, and she felt beaten to an emotional pulp by the repetition and events of the day.

  “Is the boy, the young man who was in the car, going to be okay? His father said he would be, but I’m still concerned.”

  Hallam gave her a faint smile. “Yes, he’s going to be fine.”

  “So if this Reynolds/Bell guy had these,” Martinez pressed, “he would know that your ancestors were murdered and the property bought under false pretense. That right?”

  Emma shivered in the stale air as a draft hit her. Looking up, she saw Granny. She was alone and came to Emma’s side.

  “Yes,” Emma answered. “And you will note that in his confession, John Winslow says it was for the gold Jacob Reynolds found on the property.”

  Detective Hallam bent forward, placing both of her hands on the table. “So you believe that these century-old murders have a bearing on the murder of Garrett Bell?”

  Emma glanced at Granny, who gave her a smile of encour
agement.

  “I believe it’s highly possible.” She stopped to sort her thoughts. “I’m not sure exactly what Garrett Bell had planned, but it has crossed my mind that it isn’t about building condos, as he claimed, but about the gold. I mentioned that idea to Phil Bowers, and he said there hasn’t been gold found around here for a long time. Maybe Garrett Bell and whoever he was working with didn’t know that.”

  Detective Hallam leaned forward even more. She was almost in push-up position across the table. “You’re pretty sure Bell wasn’t working alone. Why?”

  Emma knew the police had the same idea, but they continued to come at her theories from all angles. But while their thoughts were based on solid police work and calculated guesses, her information had come from ghosts. Apples and onions.

  “I’ve already told you. Someone had to have killed him; my guess is an angry partner. Someone is also trying to hurt me. And the ghost of Ish Reynolds keeps telling me that the property is still in danger. And that was after Garrett was killed.

  “Originally,” Emma continued, “I thought it might be the real Ian Reynolds who killed Garrett. But when Granny told me he was already dead, I had to dump that idea.”

  “You’d think,” Hallam said, pushing herself up from the table and standing erect, “that one of these ghosts might tell you who did the killing. That would really be helpful.” For the first time, she dropped her professional facade and let her tone slip into mockery mode. “Can’t you ask the ghost of Garrett Bell who killed him? Or don’t you two have that kind of close relationship?”

  Emma stiffened at the sarcasm. “I’ve already asked him. He’s not saying. He just said the same person will kill me.”

  “But he knows who killed him?” asked Martinez.

  “Seems so.”

  “This is ridiculous!” Detective Hallam snapped.

  Detective Martinez shot her a look of caution. “Doesn’t it make more sense,” he asked, returning his attention to Emma, “that if he told you, you’d be able to get help to stop him?”