by DS Butler
“I’ve got nothing against you practicing your magic. I just don’t think you should practice it on the residents of Abbott Cove.”
Grandma Grant wagged a finger at me. “Now, that’s not fair, Harper. I’ve never actually used magic on any resident of Abbott Cove since the pig tail incident.”
I closed my eyes in horror as I remembered that. When Grandma Grant referred to a pig tail, she wasn’t talking about a hairstyle. A year ago, she’d gotten annoyed with a man who’d pushed in front of her at the general store and had given him a real, live, curly pig’s tail on his butt.
It eventually shriveled up and went away, but that certainly hadn’t helped her reputation in Abbot Cove. Grandma Grant’s claim that it was an unusual boil hadn’t helped much either.
“So why did you come and get me from the diner?” I asked.
But even as I asked the question I had a sinking feeling that I knew exactly why she needed me.
More magic.
“I got a couple of visits from some very angry customers whose trees are now just bare branches, and I need your help to create a new spell to put the needles back on again.”
I shook my head and sighed. I should’ve known.
“Fine. I will help, but next time you use your magic like this, you are going to be on your own,” I warned. “And where is Jess? Surely she would be a better person to help you. She is much better at spells than me.”
Grandma Grant shot me a sideways glance and looked shifty. “Well, you know your sister. She’s quite persnickety. She’s not like you, Harper. She’s not prepared to roll up her sleeves and really help out.”
I knew where this was going. I closed my eyes and groaned.
“You need pondweed for this spell, and you want me to get it, don’t you?”
Jess always refused to collect the pondweed, and I was the poor sucker who always ended up getting the horrible job.
Grandma Grant had a pond in front of her property, which was full of smelly, green water and so full of pondweed you couldn’t see the bottom. It seemed like every one of her spells required either pondweed or pond pebbles.
Grandma Grant gave a sheepish smile, and I knew I was right.
“But it’s freezing tonight. The pond has probably frozen over,” I whined.
“Probably,” Grandma Grant agreed cheerfully, not looking in the least bit sorry.
“I don’t see why I’m always the one who has to collect that nasty stuff,” I complained. “Bernie Crouch was murdered tonight. I should be back there looking for his ghost. Surely that is more important than some dodgy Christmas trees.”
Grandma Grant pulled the truck up in front of the house and made a scoffing noise. “Don’t be ridiculous. Bernie Crouch is perfectly capable of taking care of himself.”
“It must have been a terrible shock to be murdered and then transform into a ghost,” I said feeling a little disgruntled that Grandma Grant didn’t think looking for Bernie was more important than her spells.
“Pah! Bernie Crouch was a philandering, ladies’ man who drank too much. He’s perfectly capable of keeping himself entertained for the next few hours while we solve this problem.”
“Now, you’d better roll your sleeves up, Harper. You’ve got some pondweed to collect.”
Feeling very hard done by, I made my way to the garden pond.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” I said as I glared at the frozen surface of the pond. This was going to be even worse than usual.
I got down on my hands and knees at the bank of the pond, picked up a medium-sized rock and used it to crack the surface of the ice.
I shrugged off my coat so I could peel back my shirtsleeves. I was already freezing, and I hadn’t even touched the cold water yet.
Gritting my teeth, I leaned forward and slid my hand and arm through the ice, into the inky black water. I tried not to flinch as I felt something brush my wrist.
I muttered a multitude of curse words as my fingers closed around the squelchy pondweed. I pulled it out and deposited it on the bank.
My teeth were chattering as I plunged my hand back in the freezing cold water. When I had a sufficient pile of pondweed, I quickly got to my feet and tugged my coat back on.
I made my way to the greenhouse and collected a pot to put the pondweed in so I could take it to the house where Grandma Grant would be preparing the potion.
When I walked into the kitchen, I complained, “I don’t see why it is always me who has to get the pondweed.”
My jaw dropped as I saw Jess smiling broadly and standing in the kitchen beside Grandma Grant. There was a roaring fire in the hearth, and Jess looked rosy-cheeked and warm as she happily continued to chop up the herbs.
Athena, Grandma Grant’s cat, was curled up in her favorite spot by the fire.
It seemed like everyone was cozy and warm except me.
I set the pot of pondweed on the kitchen counter and glared at Jess.
“Jess was already here! You didn’t tell me that,” I looked accusingly at Grandma Grant. “Why couldn’t she get the pondweed?”
“I told you,” Grandma Grant said. “Jess is persnickety.”
The smile left Jess’s face. “Hey, I am not persnickety. I’m skilled labor,” Jess said, nodding at the herbs she was chopping up. “Harper is the unskilled labor.”
I huffed out an annoyed breath and turned around without bothering to take off my coat. “I am going out,” I announced. “I need to get back to the diner and try to find Bernie Crouch.”
Without waiting to see if Grandma Grant was going to persuade me to stay and do some other horrible menial task, I stormed out of the kitchen and into the cold.
I walked briskly down the hill, heading back to town. At this time of year, it got dark early, and I thought I would have the best chance of spotting Bernie’s ghost while it was still light.
I walked through the dark thicket surrounding the path that led from Grandma Grant’s house back down into Abbot Cove. The sun was already dipping down toward the horizon, and I knew I wouldn’t have much daylight left to find Bernie Crouch.
I grumbled to myself as I walked. All this trouble had arisen because Grandma Grant had used her magic to make a quick buck.
As I got closer to the diner, I could see there were a number of vans outside, and the front of the diner had been sealed off with police tape.
I sighed. There was no chance I’d be able to get back inside and have a look for Bernie.
My best chance of finding him now was to hope he’d left the diner. I figured I might find him wandering around outside somewhere. I looked up at the darkening sky in annoyance. It was hard enough to find a ghost in the daylight, let alone when it was dark.
I caught sight of Archie coming out of the side entrance of the diner. He’d converted the first floor into a comfy flat, and often joked about his short commute to work. I wondered whether the forensic team had asked him to leave until they had finished their investigation.
“Archie?” I called out and walked toward him.
He was carrying an overnight bag. I nodded at the bag. “Have they asked you to leave your flat?”
Archie shook his head. “Oh, no, I am just heading to my brother’s place for Christmas. I’ve given Chief Wickham the address in case they need to contact me.”
“Oh, I see. I hope you have a nice time. Merry Christmas.” I kissed him on the cheek.
Archie looked grim. “I will try, but I’m not sure I’ll get much sleep tonight. I don’t really feel like celebrating Christmas this year. I keep thinking of poor Bernie with that knife sticking out of his chest.”
My gaze drifted over to the diner. I could see people inside, working their way around the crime scene. “Do you know how the investigation is going?”
“I did hear someone talking about Bernie’s ex-wife, Sandy. Apparently, she is going to inherit quite a bit of money. From what I remember, Bernie sold a large plot of land a few years ago. He hadn’t done much work since the
n, but the money is still there. He didn’t change his will, so Sandy should get the lot.”
I nodded. That was very interesting. Money was a good motive for murder, especially if Bernie had been thinking about changing his will. Perhaps Sandy decided to strike before he got the chance.
I walked with Archie to his car and then he frowned and said, “Can I give you a lift home, Harper? You shouldn’t be out in this weather. It is far too cold.”
I shrugged. “I needed some fresh air.”
Archie gave me an understanding look. He knew what Grandma Grant was like, and I’m sure he didn’t blame me for needing a little alone time.
I waited until Archie had gotten into his car and waved him off. Then I looked up and down Main Street. Darkness had fallen quickly tonight, and the pretty fairy lights strung up outside the shops along Main Street made Abbot Cove a festive sight. It seemed wrong for the town to look so Christmassy when it was the site of a gruesome murder.
I shivered and hugged my coat tighter around my body. I really wasn’t sure where to look for Bernie. Where should I start?
Main Street was a straight road through the center of town, but Bernie could have gone anywhere. Maybe he’d gone down to the harbor?
As I turned, something caught my eye — a figure, weaving about in the middle of the road.
“Oh, no,” I muttered.
Was it possible for a ghost to be drunk? Because I could’ve sworn that Bernie Crouch was stumbling and floating along Main Street toward me, clearly the worse for wear.
CHAPTER 4
For the record, trying to negotiate with a drunk ghost wandering up the center of Main Street on Christmas Eve is not recommended.
I’d expected Bernie Crouch to be devastated. He’d been viciously murdered, turned into a ghost, and yet he didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest.
In fact, he looked positively cheerful. He gave me a large grin as I rushed toward him.
“Hello, Harper. I’m sorry if I fell asleep again. I woke up, and everyone had left! And there were a couple of people from the Sheriff’s Department poking around. Hoity-toity types if you ask me. Chief Wickham hasn’t liked me since I wrapped my car around that lamppost last spring.”
Oh, boy. This was going to be tough. Bernie Crouch clearly had no idea he was a ghost.
Luckily, there was no sign of the knife that had been sticking out of his chest. I was surprised to see he looked just the same as he did before he was murdered, except for the fact he was a little paler, partially transparent and floating a foot off the ground.
“Bernie, come with me. I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
I tried to hurry him along, but it wasn’t easy.
I wanted to get him out of the center of town as quickly as possible. It may have been dark, but I didn’t want anyone looking out of their windows and spotting me talking to thin air. No one else would be able to see Bernie so they would think I was completely off my rocker.
Bernie seemed amenable enough and cheerfully came with me. The only trouble was he continued to weave backward and forwards all over the street. Every now and then, he let out a large hiccup.
I looked up at the starry sky. Why me?
Somehow, I was going to have to try and get him back to the cottage and explain things to him there.
I could only hope he would sober up soon because goodness knew what I was going to do if he stayed drunk.
“Where are we going?” Bernie asked, hovering beside the foot of the hill just before I entered the path leading into the thicket.
“We’re going to my house, Bernie. I need to talk to you in private.”
Bernie let out a large chuckle, and I was glad that nobody else could hear him.
He waggled his eyebrows at me. “Well, I am very flattered of course, Harper, but don’t you think you’re a little bit young for me?”
Ew. I didn’t even want to think about that.
“Bernie, I am not propositioning you. I just need you to come back to my house so we can have a little chat.”
Bernie thought about that for a moment and then said, “Will your grandmother be there?”
For a moment, I was flummoxed. Then I shook my head. “No, she’ll be at her house.” I didn’t bother mentioning the fact that she was busy making a potion to try and rectify her Christmas tree disaster.
Bernie shrugged. “Let’s go to your grandmother’s house.”
I shook my head, perplexed. “Why?”
Bernie winked at me. “I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for your grandmother.”
Could this evening get any worse?
Under any other circumstances, I would have tried to persuade Bernie to come back to the cottage by feeding him a fib about how Grandma Grant was out, but because she and Jess had annoyed me earlier, I decided to get my own back. If I had to deal with Bernie, I didn’t see why Grandma Grant and Jess shouldn’t suffer, too.
“Fine,” I said. “I will take you to see Grandma Grant, but hurry up. It’s freezing out here tonight.”
Bernie floated along behind me happily. “It’s odd, but I can’t feel the cold tonight. Perhaps it’s that tiny drink I had earlier.”
I shot him a skeptical look. He’d clearly had more than one drink. “Just the one, Bernie?”
“Of course, I am as sober as a judge,” he said, and with those words, he floated right through a tree.
It was a good job he was a ghost. Otherwise, he’d have had a very nasty bruise on his forehead.
I sighed and trudged up the hill with Bernie. It took me twice as long as it normally did, mainly because Bernie kept drifting off the track.
When we finally got to Grandma Grant’s house, I opened the door and let Bernie drift inside first.
“Shut the door quickly, Harper!” Grandma Grant ordered. “It’s freezing out there.”
“Ah, the lovely woman herself.” Bernie Crouch simpered up to Grandma Grant, giving her a daft smile, but of course, because she couldn’t see him, Grandma Grant completely ignored him.
I shut the door behind me as Bernie said, “Aha, I think she’s playing hard to get, Harper.”
“Bernie is with me,” I announced. “She isn’t playing hard to get, Bernie. She can’t see you.”
Bernie blinked at me a couple of times and looked very confused.
“What do you mean she can’t see me?” He waved a hand in front of Grandma Grant’s face. “What’s wrong with her eyes?”
Grandma Grant took a step back and then glared at me. “Where is he? He’d better not be close to me, Harper.”
“It’s okay. He isn’t that close,” I lied. Bernie had his face only millimeters away from Grandma Grant.
I was absolutely exhausted from the effort of getting Bernie up the hill. I took off my shoes and went to sit in Grandma Grant’s easy chair by the fire, trying to thaw my frozen feet.
Athena gave me a warning meow as if to warn me not to get too comfortable — this was her spot by the fire, after all.
“I think Bernie has got a crush on you, Grandma Grant,” I said and smiled at the look of horror on her face.
“Then why on earth did you bring him here?”
Jess snorted with laughter.
I shrugged. “He wanted to come.”
Bernie drifted away from the kitchen and hovered beside me. “What’s going on?”
“I am very sorry to have to tell you this, Bernie. But today when you were in the grotto at the diner, somebody stabbed you and—”
Bernie let out a startled gasp and started to pat himself down, checking for injuries.
“I don’t remember that.” He shook his head and then muttered, half to himself, “Surely I wasn’t that drunk.”
“You were murdered, Bernie.”
Bernie shook his head. “How is that possible? If I was murdered, how can I be standing here talking to you now?”
As gently as I could, I said, “Bernie, you are a ghost. I’m the only one who can see you.”
I don’t know whether I expected tears, recriminations or plain denial, but I certainly didn’t expect Bernie to shrug his shoulders and say, “Oh, well, never mind.”
I frowned. Perhaps Bernie was too drunk to understand what was happening.
“You’ll probably remain a ghost until we find out who killed you,” I said. “Do you remember anything about it?”
“Not a thing,” he said and then giggled as he flew over Athena who let out a startled yelp.
He zoomed back into the kitchen to try his luck romancing Grandma Grant again. I was just glad she couldn’t hear what he was saying.
I leaned back in the seat as my eyes fluttered closed and let the warmth of the fire soothe me.
I tried to formulate a plan. Perhaps it was just better to wait and see if Bernie sobered up and then maybe he could provide some useful information.
“Er, Harper, I think you better see this,” Jess said, her voice laced with concern.
I heard a clattering noise coming from the kitchen. I figured Jess had to be loading the dishwasher, but when I turned, I saw Bernie bashing into things… and he was actually making things move.
He picked up a piece of ginger root and studied it before laying it back on the kitchen counter.
I stared at him open-mouthed.
If I was surprised, that was nothing compared to Jess and Grandma Grant. They couldn’t see Bernie. All they could see was a piece of ginger floating upwards and then drifting back down to the counter.
Great. Bernie was a poltergeist.
It was very unusual. Ghost newbies were hardly ever able to interact with solid substances. It usually took them a while to learn how to sit down without floating through a chair, so this was very strange…and worrying.
If a ghost was unable to move objects, they weren’t really a threat, and nobody would even notice their presence. But people in Abbot Cove would certainly start to notice if things started to move on their own accord.
I clasped a hand to my forehead and let out a heavy sigh as Bernie picked up a knife and fork from the cutlery drawer and began to drum them on the kitchen surface, singing a Bon Jovi song as he did so.