"I'd rather you stayed close, I might get scared." He stroked my arm to urge me to stay put.
I couldn't see his face but was sure he was smiling. He sat back and made more room for me. I turned my back to him and sat on the edge of the seat. His urging made me nestle into him.
"Now, close your eyes and relax," he whispered in my ear.
I rested my head on his shoulder and let the sounds of the night fill me. The oar stroke sliced through the water, animals hooted and squawked, tree branches creaked in the subtle breeze. The feel of his semi-embrace added to the otherworldly feel. I inhaled it all in.
Should I invite him in? It wasn't my house and I promised not to have company. Will he invite me to his house? He was a gentleman and lived here, so I'll let him pick the place.
He nudged me as he settled the boat next to the Chases' pier. I struggled to shake life into my limp form as he tied off the boat. He was more comfortable than a bed and much better than the couch waiting for me. As he hopped out, the boat wobbled, and I clutched the sides.
"Gretchen, there's only about three feet of water under you. You're fine, give me your hand."
I pried one loose, raised it, and was on the pier. I clutched his shirt, and he put his arms around me.
"You don't like water," he said as he kissed my forehead.
Forget the briny deep—kiss me again. If I fainted, he would give me some major mouth-to-mouth attention.
"If moving water didn't threaten me with instant death, I wouldn't mind it. Thanks for the swoop to grab me. You must have been a hawk in a former life." I shifted away from him.
"Rodents are an acquired taste I hope to avoid." He took my hand and led me to the door. "What's your plan for tomorrow?"
Never letting you go.
"I don't have one," I confessed.
"Sounds like my kind of vacation. I work on my websites over at a coffee shop down the road. I'll pick you up at ten, and bring a book. Then we'll head over to the fire station for Josh's famous tacos and figure out dinner." He held out his hand for the key.
"Okay, and thank you," I said as he opened the door.
He strolled in and turned on the lights. A warm feeling came over me as if the house was happy to see me.
"Call if things get weird," he said as he handed me the key.
"I don't anticipate much activity other than sleeping."
And dreaming about his luscious body.
He smiled, kissed my cheek, and left.
CHAPTER FIVE
What if I'd invited him to stay for a sleep over or under?
I stretched out on the couch and stared out the window as the moonlight on the water hypnotized me. A wisp of a white cloud floated by the trees and seemed tangled in the branches. It perched at the top of the window frame and glowed. A magical evening topped off with a lovely sky show. I felt like clapping my hands to show my love of fairies. I inhaled and closed my eyes.
Why didn't the Chases spend the summer here?
I sighed as I pulled my blanket up to my chin and fell asleep. The clock on the mantel chimed twice and woke me. Funny, I didn't remember it chiming before. I opened my eyes and sat up. The lake shimmered, but the white cloud had moved inside and morphed into a translucent 1950s' blonde debutante, who sat on the mantel, patting the clock.
Amanda, Mr. Chase's forever fiancée.
I rolled off the couch and huddled under the coffee table. Like the cowardly lion, I did believe in spooks. If I had an ounce of courage, I'd scream and run out of the house, but what if more waited outside? Maybe she was an emissary and came in peace or made sure I was alone and signaled to the rest that a scrambled brain breakfast was about to be served. Now, I wished I took notes during those supernatural shows to know the proper etiquette when dealing with semi-human beings. She wasn't a vampire because I didn't give her permission to come in, and my nightmares usually included talking apple trees. Was I still asleep?
I pinched my sunburned cheek. Awake, in pain, and terrified were not my favorite ways to start the day. My options for escape were limited. Was it best to confront my fate and die with honor or pick up the table, throw it at her, and run like hell?
I peeked out at her. Too early in the year for Halloween or Christmas ghosts, this one seemed at home as she floated over to the couch. Lovely and humanly formed, she cocked her head at me. Introductions were in order and the civilized way to do things. Plus, after I died of fright, my ghost would need to find Amanda to turn her in to the ghost authorities. Whom or what governed the walking spirits?
She swept down and landed on the table. I'd be crushed if she weighed a gram. This was silly; she was air, a figment of my imagination, not a threat. I should welcome her, explain I wasn't the leader of anything, and she had the wrong address. It could happen to anyone or anything. I grabbed my last thread of etiquette, ignored the scream inching up my throat, and scooted out from under the table to meet my guest.
"Greetings, I'm Gretchen Strom of Chicago in America. Whom do I have the honor of addressing? Are you Amanda?" I asked as I stood straight and tall.
She nodded, then creased her forehead and frowned at me. I disappointed the remains of the dead. Was she meeting up with someone else, or had she expected to find an empty house? I'd be pissed to find me instead of a place to haunt in peace.
"I'm not trespassing—I won a few days here from Jane Chase's raffle."
She puffed up and grew in stature and menace, putting me in full panic mode. I rushed to the door, whipped it open, and realized she hadn't followed me. Amanda landed back on the mantel and buried her face in her hands.
A weeping angel here to warn me about the end of days, or someone who filled with sorrow at the mention of Jane's name?
Torn between swimming to Ryan's house and consoling a lost soul, I chose the least scary one. I closed the door and settled on the couch. She swooped down to join me as her shoulders shook. I awkwardly extended my arm to reach out to pat her on the back. She picked up her head and smiled at me.
Hi, phantom friend. Do you like opera? Are you from out of town or out of this world?
"Do you live in the house?"
She nodded and pointed to the locked door leading to the rest of the house. She flew through the room and slid under the door. I waited to see if she would return.
Maybe her nest was upstairs, and she was going back to sleep, or she was summoning her evil clan to kill me. I will never drink beer again. Hallucinations mixed into really long nightmares sucked.
I heard a click, and the door creaked open.
In a horror movie, this was when the music mimicked a scream, and the lone girl fought for her life.
Before I could stay on script, Amanda appeared and beckoned me to follow her upstairs.
Was breaking and entering a crime if a ghost made me do it?
Curiosity overrode my common sense as I padded my way to the foyer and flipped the light switch. Gorgeous paintings of dancers covered the walls and looked familiar. I peered at the closest one and noted the signature.
Manuel.
He ruled the art world in the 1950s and 1960s. The tango dancers entwined, the vibrant colors, and the sensuality of the paintings made the subjects almost come to life. The Chases owned the largest collection of his paintings?
Amanda flew in tight dizzying circles making a mini tornado of motion around me. I grabbed the railing and hiked up the stairs. My whirling guide hovered ahead of me in the hallway. We continued up a narrow staircase to the attic where paints, frames, and drop cloths had been stored.
Manuel painted here? Were the Chases his patrons? What happened to him?
Amanda pointed to a sheet-covered canvas on an easel. I pulled off the covering and discovered a portrait in progress. A beautiful blonde with dazzling blue eyes, high pink cheekbones, perfect teeth, and pearls draped around her neck. Amanda in the two-dimensional flesh was stunning, a Breck girl come to life. Her shirt had been drawn, with no color added, but a pin was attached to the co
llar.
"Mr. Chase's fraternity symbol," I said as I pointed to it.
Her glow dimmed and she landed on a table.
"Were you engaged to him when you had your accident?"
She bolted up, marched over to me, and shook her head no. I backed up a few steps until I hit the wall.
"You weren't getting married?"
She pointed to her left hand, third finger, and nodded yes.
"Was your drowning an accident?"
She bobbed her head side to side showing a determined negative response. Then she signaled me to go back downstairs.
I hurried down, turned off the lights, and shut the door. Back in the family room, I leaned against the couch, and she pointed to the clock. I took it off the mantel and examined it. It had been broken, hollowed out of time-telling pieces, and only the face remained intact. Plus a frat pin and an antique ring were wedged inside.
"Was this your secret hiding place or evidence?"
She rested her hand on her chin, glided away from me, and stopped at the fireplace. Actually she went through the rocks and came back out on the other side. No more magic tricks. I was about to engage in a game of charades with a ghost. She took a deep breath, hit her forehead with her palm, and fell down.
Where were those meddlesome kids and their Great Dane when I needed them?
"You fell out of the boat?"
She held both of her hands shoulder high and pushed them away from her.
"Someone shoved you out of the boat. You weren't alone?"
She nodded her head in the affirmative, but still frowned and tapped her foot. Then an idea must have popped into her head, and she flew to the mantel, stood tall, and then dropped off of it. She lay on the floor, flat on her stomach, both arms outstretched.
The classic dead man's float. She fell in the water from something higher up or somebody smacked her then rolled her into the water?
I sat down next to the still prone Amanda.
"Were you in the boat?"
She popped up, shaking her head no as she faced me.
The boat was a ruse to make everyone think she had been out alone. Ryan was right, and there was a cold-blooded killer in this town.
A shiver went down my spine.
What about the firehouse lunch boys? They knew a lot about the town and could be harboring a fugitive or…
Amanda waved her hand in front of my face to bring me back from my detective zone. I didn't have to research the crime. I could ask the victim.
"Did you know the guy who pushed you?"
A definite negative then she shaped an hourglass in the air with her hands.
The sands of time or the Wicked Witch of the West killed her? Who else owned an hourglass? Or…
"You had a female murderer?"
She winked and beamed at me. All my couch sitting, potato chip munching, and crime show watching paid off—I'd solved a cold case. Wait a minute, there was only one woman here who benefitted from Amanda's death.
"Amanda, please listen. I don't like my job, but I need to pay my bills. I'm about to say a name and accuse someone of murder. Are you positive you can identify the woman?"
She sat up straight and waited for me to utter the name of the person no one questioned or suspected.
"Jane Baxter now known as Jane Chase." I drew out every syllable so there would be no mistake.
She touched her nose with her index finger.
Bingo. I won. Now what?
As if she read my mind, she scooted closer and through another fifteen minutes of twenty questions, she explained her plan to catch Jane.
I became her accomplice and confidant, and was so sorry I spent twenty dollars on a raffle ticket.
CHAPTER SIX
Amanda faded an hour before daybreak. I tossed and turned then gave up on sleep. Too many loose threads ran through my mind.
What happened after the murder? Did Amanda's family believe it was an accident? Did Mr. Chase or Worker Bea know about Jane's involvement? I needed a notepad to write down my questions for Amanda. My life had been reduced to hoping my haunter would return.
After my three-minute dip in the icy waterfall known as the shower, I raced out onto the beach to warm up. The sun shimmered on the lake and calmed me. Fate brought me here to right a wrong, but where to start? The scene of the crime. I had to get to the top of the cliff, but how? Ryan drove his truck up the driveway, got out, and smiled at me.
My gorgeous unsuspecting Ishawa guide made my heart thump.
"Good morning," I said to the guy who brightened mine.
"Hi, I know I'm early, but I finished my work at home. How did you sleep?" he asked as he took my hand.
Funny story, I played host to a ghost last night, found out she was murdered, and now planned to bring the guilty party to justice.
"Fine, very comfortable. I was wondering about the cliff we paddled by yesterday. Is there a path to the top of it?"
"Yes, but you don't strike me as the hiking type. I thought you hated the outdoors."
"The sun started it. I do love shaded scenery, if it's not too hot and there aren't any bugs or snakes."
"Nature without the nature. Did you bring sturdy shoes or hiking boots?"
"No." I looked down at my flip-flopped feet.
"Okay, we'll drive over there, and I may have to carry you part of the way." He winked at me as he led me back to his truck.
My luck had just changed for the way better.
It wasn't far over the rough terrain. I opened the door, put one foot out to test my sturdiness, and almost twisted my ankle. Ryan rushed over, had me sit back in the car seat, and felt my leg from the knee down. I gave him two weeks of fondling before I told him to stop.
"Good, no sprain; now up you go." He turned his back to me and bent down.
"I haven't had a piggyback ride in ages." I scooted out, wrapped my legs around his waist, and my arms around his neck.
He stood and hoisted me in place.
Bless you, Amanda, for making this playtime possible.
I clung to him and enjoyed the view. Ryan gave a running commentary about his childhood and playing up here. I could listen to him all day. I rested my head on his shoulder, closed my eyes, and watched a replay of Amanda's murder.
Amanda emerged from the trees to the clearing on the cliff. She turned toward the trees as if she heard something. Jane burst out of the brush, rock in hand, and bashed her in the face. Amanda fell to her knees, bloodied and dazed as Jane struck her again. Now that Amanda was semi-conscious, Jane removed the moaning Amanda's ring and pin, pocketing them. Then she dragged Amanda to the edge and pushed her off. A huge splash, Amanda flailed for a bit, and then sank. Jane hurried down to the water's edge and pushed a small boat, hull side up, into the water. It floated into the middle of the lake. Jane climbed back up and swept at the spilled blood with a fallen branch. The sun did the rest of the work, drying it into brown swirls. Jane raced back down the path, spying around for witnesses, and looked right at me.
I jumped up.
"Hey sleepyhead, I thought you wanted to breathe in the view from up here, not take a flying leap," Ryan said as he held me in place.
Right, teenaged and deranged Jane couldn't see me now. I was in the future with my handsome protector.
"Thanks, I must have dozed off. Please set me down but don't go too far. I've just decided I don't like heights."
I slid down his body and enjoyed the ride. A little weak in the knees, but more determined to help Amanda, I tiptoed to the edge. Ryan took my hand, and I gripped it as I peered over. The water appeared docile and inviting, and the stone solid beneath my feet, all sun bleached and warm. And yet, a whiff of evil lingered here and threatened to envelope me. Dizzy and nauseous, I pulled away from him and sat down.
"Are you okay? You're as pale as a ghost." He joined me and touched my cheek.
He had no idea.
"I forgot to eat before our trip," I said, shading my eyes from the sun.
"You'
re in luck—it's Tuesday tacos and coconut cream pie at the fire station. We can watch Josh cook and be first in line." He stood and offered me his hand.
"I dreamed about Amanda. Does anybody else think it wasn't an accident?"
"Everybody who lived here, but there's no proof of any wrong doing. Believe me, people scoured over the details, but there were no witnesses. Her parents even offered a reward for information," he said, leaning over and scooping me up in his arms. "It's just as rocky uphill as downhill."
Thank goodness for gorgeous favors.
The drive to the firehouse made me nervous.
Should I eat and listen or bombard them with questions about the Chases? Should I admit I saw Amanda? Should I be so attracted to Ryan after knowing him twenty-four hours? Finally, an easy one. Answer: absolutely.
We arrived at the station, and the same group of regulars on the porch acknowledged us. In the kitchen, Josh mashed up avocados for guacamole.
"I take this as a high compliment. Welcome back, Gretchen," Josh said.
"Thank you, once an interloper, always an interloper." I sat on a stool by the counter. "Can I help?"
"Josh has cooking for a crowd down to a science," Ryan said as he joined me.
"Just don't want to clean up the blood and mess from people supposedly good with a knife." Josh nodded toward the porch.
"Harold helped once and gave himself a new nickname, Half Hand Harold," Ryan said, pouring me a glass of iced tea.
"I don't like gross stories before I eat," I said, spooning sugar in my tea.
"Okay, just don't shake his hand; you can feel the seam in his palm," Josh said.
Both men laughed as I closed my eyes trying to block the visual.
Lunch was served, and the fellas from the porch moseyed in.
"Have you met Amanda?" Buster asked me, after I settled down with my plate.
"I had a weird dream about her and paintings of dancers."
I'll leave out the guided tour details.
"Oh yeah, Everett painted a lot when he was younger. He sold a few too, but Jane put a stop to that. Didn't think it was respectable or profitable. What he sees in that bitch I'll never know."
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