Seeing Is Believing

by Kimber Davis

  Seeing Is Believing:

  Ghost of a Chance, Book One

  Kimber Davis

  (c) 2010 by Blushing BooksO and Kimber Davis

  Copyright (c) 2010 by Blushing Books(r) and Kimber Davis

  All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Blushing Books(r),

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  ABCD Graphics and Design

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  The trademark Blushing Books(r) is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  Davis, Kimber

  Seeing is Believing: Ghost of a Chance, Book One

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-381-8

  Cover Design by ABCD Graphics

  Blushing Publications thanks you whole-heartedly for your purchase with us!

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  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Chapter One

  Leslie Hopkins groaned, then set the large, unwieldy box on the counter. How could paper skeletons and plastic pumpkins weigh so much? This box felt as if it had a ton of rocks in the bottom of it.

  The deliveryman hadn't seemed to have any problem with it when he brought it into her cafe, Spice is Nice. Of course he was several inches taller than she was, and quite a few pounds heavier. Even though she moved boxes and stock in her store on a constant basis, she tried to make sure not to overdo it. Maybe that's what was wrong. She didn't do enough. She should make a plan this winter to work out, bulk up her muscles more.

  She pushed the box back, then took out a stock knife to cut the tape, slicing it gently so as not to damage anything that might be under the box lid.

  Maybe this shipment would put her in the mood for Halloween. It was the first part of October, and the warmth still invading Texas didn't make her think about trick or treating, or warm apple cider. It was still hot enough outside that she had the back door of the shop open, hoping a breeze would snake through and cool things off. Of course the nights were cold, but not the days.

  Things had been slow today, but that didn't really surprise her. Dante's Peak was a small, tourist town, sitting near the New Mexico border. During the school year, business was generally slow during the week. It would pick up, however, on the weekends. And, as Halloween neared, it would pick up during the week, too. The nearby ghost town of Blade was a great attraction during October.

  When business picked up, she would be busy, selling miniature pumpkin pies and other treats that reminded people of the fall holidays. She just wished it would start this week. Right now. Business had been dead for two days now, and she needed an influx of cash, soon.

  She put away the knife and peeled back the flaps of cardboard holding the top together. Sure enough, shrink-wrapped paper skeletons and tiny plastic pumpkins seemed to wink back at her. As she dug down deeper, she found a package she'd forgotten she'd ordered. Halloween necklaces, with little white ghosts and witch hats. She hefted one in her hand and frowned. They weren't that heavy, either. Of course all of them mixed together might be, but somehow she doubted it.

  She hoped her clerk, Tambi, was right and that these novelties would sell well to the local population when they came in for an afternoon snack. If not she would have just wasted six hundred dollars, and she couldn't afford to do that.

  Thinking about her finances always put her in a foul mood. When she'd first opened the store she was doing great, making lots of cash as the novelty of a coffee cafe set in to the tiny town where tourists flocked to be near Blade, one of the places western outlaws used as a safe haven back in the old days.

  And while she did a good business during the summer, she couldn't say the same during the winter. And as the winter drew closer she grew more and more nervous, wondering what she would do to supplement her income if she couldn't pay her bills.

  Tambi had tried to talk her into opening a mail-order business, complete with a website people could visit and order from. But Leslie wasn't so sure. It was a huge world out there, and she didn't think her famous pumpkin pies would draw people in to a website.

  "Think huge," Tambi had said. "We'll come up with a theme that fits in with Blade, rename the store The Last Frontier, or something like that. Then we could say Blade is famous because Billy the Kid spent a lot of time here, which he did. After that we invent new recipes that drive people mad featuring his name. It'll drive people nuts."

  Leslie had laughed, but shook her head in disagreement. "You know, it's not a bad idea, but it's not something that's going to happen. We need to be realistic. I don't have the capital for that kind of venture, and before you say we don't need it, we do."

  She'd hated the dejected look on Tambi's face, but the younger woman had nodded, then sighed. "You're right."

  "Times are tough," Leslie had countered. "What we need is to find a way to increase the business we have right now."

  And that's when Tambi had come up with the idea of selling Halloween novelties, trinkets people could use to decorate their houses, and little souvenirs like the pumpkins with the name Dante's Peak inscribed on them. Leslie wasn't so sure it would work, but she was willing to try.

  According to tracking records, she would get the next two shipments of items later in the week, and the final shipment next Monday. Today's shipment was the paper skeletons and plastic pumpkins. Tomorrow she would get little tiny coffins with the words, "I survived a visit to Blade," engraved on them. Also included tomorrow would be key chains with tombstones inscribed with Blade.

  Next week would be the T-shirts, commemorating the Halloween party scheduled to take place in Blade Halloween night. The few hotels in town were already booked solid. Some people rented out their cabins that set on the lake near Blade. If visitors were unable to find a room, they'd end up driving from Amarillo, which was just a little more than an hour away. The real hard-core ghost town fans would bring campers, or set up tents and sleeping bags inside the supposedly haunted town, trying to catch a glimpse of a specter. Of course it never worked, because there weren't any ghosts there.

  Leslie smiled as she picked up a paper skeleton, tearing off the shrink-wrap and unfolding the arms and legs. She would have Tambi help her decorate this afternoon, getting the store ready for what she hoped would be a huge influx of customers who would want something warm to drink, something sweet, or spicy, to eat, and hopefully something to hang in their living rooms, and remind them Halloween was just around the corner.

  She stared into the box, frowning. The thought of unpacking the box flittered across her mind, and then she decided to let Tambi do it when she arrived for work at four. Tambi was a single mother, who worked all morning at the local feed yard, answering the phones and working on invoices or filing. After that she picked up her daughter and came to work.

  While Tambi worked the outside, Leslie would work in the office, doing books and filing of her own while Josh, Tambi's seven-month-old son, played in his crib. If business was slow they moved the crib outside to the main room. Leslie was happy to accommodate her worker, who was a good friend as well as an employee.

  Leslie dangled the skeleton from her fingertips, then placed it on top of the box and hurried up to the
front to answer the ding that announced the arrival of a customer. Tambi could deal with the box later; maybe while Josh napped and Leslie worked on the books, watching her plus column slowly dwindle.

  But maybe, just maybe, it would rise today. She certainly hoped so.

  *****

  "Look, I've known Leslie Hopkins since she was knee high to a grasshopper. She's not a drug smuggler."

  Reed Jacobs took a deep breath, then lifted the binoculars up to his face again. Someone had just gone into Spice is Nice, an older woman who didn't seem at all dangerous.

  "I didn't say she was a drug smuggler," Reed replied. "I said someone is using the packing firm to smuggle drugs, and we believe they targeted her shipment to provide them to your area. The shippers hired me to see what I could find out."

  Reed glanced at Chester Gross, the sheriff's deputy assigned to this area. He sat ramrod straight behind the wheel of his car, but a slow twitch of his eye let Reed know he was nervous, that he didn't quite believe the man from Dallas who had suddenly invaded his space, making accusations of drugs passing through his county.

  Nobody liked to think they had illegal operations taking place in their jurisdiction. And they especially didn't like guys from the big city showing up, causing a stink.

  "Listen, I'm not here to arrest her. I couldn't do that even if she was guilty," Reed assured him. "I'm a PI, not a cop."

  "What happens when you ask me to arrest her, though, and she turns out to be innocent?"

  Reed swallowed hard, then reached for the can of soda sitting in the cup holder. He took a long swig, then clicked his tongue over his teeth. "Once again, we don't suspect her. I have two other agents tracking two other shipments that left Dallas the night before last. All of them went to different parts of the state. We're watching them all. It's not the recipients, it's somebody working for the shipping company."

  He could tell that little bit of information placated Chester just a little. But it didn't ease his fears totally. He was still worried that one of his residents was a dope smuggler.

  "Tell me something, Reed. If they're using the boxes, then how does the person getting the drugs from the shippers actually take possession of them?"

  "I don't know," Reed lifted his brows as an older lady came out of the cafe, holding a large white box that Reed was sure contained a pie, or a cake. His mouth watered at the thought of a thick slice of pie and a cup of coffee. "Is she a good cook?"

  "One of the best," Chester said. "Don't tell my wife, but her pies are some of the tastiest eating I ever put in my mouth. She puts just the right amount of spices into things. I think that's why she calls the store Spice is Nice. Her pecan pie is yummy, and if you add a scoop of ice cream on it, or whipped cream...man, I'm getting hungry just thinking about it."

  "Then let's go get some," Reed said, slicking back his hair and rubbing his hands together. "Introduce me as a person fascinated by ghost towns. Tell her you're friends with my parents, who grew up nearby and moved away. Will that story work?"

  "Well, Leslie's lived her all her life, so her family is liable to have known anyone who was around here, even for a while. But I went to college at Tech, so I was gone for four years. We can say I met your folks at school."

  "Perfect," Reed replied. "Let's go."

  They stepped out into the warm afternoon and Reed's stomach rumbled at the smell that hit his nose as they neared the cafe. He could make out two distinctive aromas, pumpkin pie, and coffee, good strong coffee from the scent wafting out the cafe door.

  He pulled open the screen and ushered Chester in first, using his second place arrival to take a look around. It was a quaint little shop, with tables and chairs dotting the floor. Each table was set with the usual condiments you would see in a coffee shop, along with a horseshoe shaped napkin holder that was full.

  Several booths set along the walls, but the shop was empty, and Reed wondered how business was in this small town. The hard economic times had been tough on everyone. Would Leslie Hopkins take advantage of a chance to smuggle to make some extra cash? Chester didn't think so, but sometimes you didn't know people as well as you thought you did.

  Reed turned his gaze on the woman who was now greeting Chester. Leslie was tall, and plump, just the right size to his point of view. She had a nice curvy figure, with large breasts and beautiful hips. Her dark hair was tied up, and he wondered how long it would be when she let it down.

  Hazel eyes flickered joy at seeing her new customers. He guessed her to be about thirty, maybe a year younger or older, but no more. He watched her gesture to the counter and saw there was no ring on her right finger. Chester had told him she wasn't married, but it didn't hurt to check things out for yourself, just to be sure.

  He gazed away from the counter to see her eyeing him with interest and he smiled at her.

  "Reed Jacobs. I'm an old friend of the Gross family."

  "Nice to meet you. Y'all come in and take a seat. What'll it be? I have a fresh baked pumpkin pie, a pecan pie, and the usual assortment of cookies, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, and peanut butter. I had a cheery pie, but I just sold it."

  Reed's stomach grumbled and when Leslie laughed, he noticed the way her eyes lit up even more. She didn't seem like the drug smuggling type that was for sure.

  "Pumpkin?Or pecan? Or maybe a little sliver of both?" She cocked her head and Reed felt his body respond. Damn, she was pretty, that was for sure.

  "Both. You talked me into it. With some ice cream, please."

  She winked at him, then turned to Chester. "And you?"

  "Same, thank you Leslie. We'll just take a seat over here by the wall, if that's okay with you."

  Her laugh was infectious, and Reed felt a tinge of guilt about lying to her about his real purpose for coming into her shop. Maybe he should ask her about the shipment she'd received earlier, tell her why he was really there and discuss the case.

  But that wouldn't be right. Not yet. Technically, right now, she was still a suspect and he needed to treat her as such. That meant asking some probing questions if he could get her to sit down with them. They selected their table and Reed watched her walk toward the counter. It was a very nice view.

  While she was preparing their food, he leaned across the table to Chester. "Get her to join us."

  "Why?"

  "I just wanna talk to her, that's all. Come on, just for a little bit. It's not like she has anyone else in here."

  Chester nodded, although Reed could tell he wasn't thrilled with the situation.

  Reed could hear the dings and electronic buttons of microwaves, and before long a plate loaded with two slices of pie appeared before him. Large scoops of ice cream sat on top of the pastries, and she placed huge mugs of coffee in front of them, along with a jug of cream.

  "Join us," Chester said, and Reed could tell he was looking for an excuse, something to make her want to stay. As it turned out he didn't have to.

  "Don't mind if I do." She set down a third cup of coffee, then took a seat. After doctoring her coffee she turned a pointed gaze on Reed.

  "What brings you to Dante's Peek, Reed?"

  "Blade." He took a sip of his coffee and then sank his fork into the pecan pie, slicing off a bite and sliding it through the melting ice cream. He lifted the dripping concoction to his mouth and then felt as if he would melt into a puddle of goo as the tastes mixed together in his mouth. It was the most amazing thing he'd eaten in quite some time.

  "So good," he said after the food slid down his throat. He took a bite of the pumpkin, doing the same thing with it that he'd done with the pecan. It was probably the best slice of pumpkin pie he'd ever had.

  "This is incredible. Where did you learn to cook like this?"

  "My mother," Leslie said with a laugh. "Every month she comes by and asks where her share of the profits are, since I'm using her recipes. Of course I've added a few things, too, so they're not hers totally. I give her free pie and coffee."

  They all laughed, and Reed was so b
usy eating that he didn't even bother to try and ask her questions. He would get to that soon enough. Depending on how things progressed, and how much time he spent in Dante's Peak, he'd probably gain ten pounds. He'd go back to Dallas and everyone would kid him about eating his way through the case.

  "So, do you like ghosts?" Reed wiped his mouth, then took a swig of his coffee before answering her. She was polite enough, he'd noticed, to wait until he was done eating to ask her questions.

  "Yeah, they're fascinating." The truth was he didn't believe in ghosts, nor did he give a rat's behind if anyone else did. They were just something to keep people occupied, he thought. But he didn't want her to know that. After all, if he didn't believe in ghosts, there would be no reason for him to come to Blade, would there?

  Of course in this instance the term ghost town was misleading. What it really meant was a town that had died away; it didn't mean there were ghosts rumbling around in the old, rundown buildings that were still around.

  "Did Billy the Kid really stay there?"

  "That's the rumor," she said with a grin. "He was the most famous of all the outlaws who were there, obviously, and most of the people who visit do so because he was there. Have you been out there yet?"

  "No, I haven't. I just got here, and my folks told me to make sure and look up Chester, so that's the first thing I did."

  She nodded, then winked at Chester. "He's great, isn't he?"

  "Definitely," Reed said, really meaning it. Chester had told him he'd done some checking on Reed with the Dallas PD, but other than that he'd been very forthcoming about the small town, and what he thought was happening there: absolutely nothing.

  "How's business?" Reed took a drink and watched her reaction carefully. Her frown was genuine, and he felt sorry for her as she turned a gaze on the empty, except for them, shop.

  "Very slow," she said softly. "It'll pick up for the few weeks before Halloween, and then around Thanksgiving and Christmas I'll get a lot of local business, people wanting me to make pies for their family gatherings. But after that, it gets really slow until Valentine's Day, when cookies sales pick up for a while."