by DS Butler
Joe’s features looked stern as he held up the piece of paper so I could see it.
“Boris Barrymore. So you put an end to your investigating, have you?”
“I… Uh…”
I sighed. It seemed I had some serious explaining to do.
* * *
Joe’s hand dropped from Smudge's fur, and he straightened up. “Why can’t you leave this alone? Why are you so determined to be involved, Harper?”
Jess cleared her throat and scooped up her e-reader. “I think I’ll give you guys a little privacy,” she said and walked off to her bedroom.
I turned back to Joe and looked up at him. How could I explain why this investigation was so important to me? I had no idea where to start.
“I’m concerned because Bernie Crouch was murdered where I work. It was not a nice experience, and I want to make sure the culprit is caught,” I said, trying to explain to Joe without giving too much away.
He sighed heavily. “You are interfering with our investigation, Harper. Plus the fact it isn’t safe, surely you can see that?”
I nodded. He was right about that, and I knew it, but if we didn’t discover Bernie’s murderer, he would never be able to pass on and would remain a ghost forever. I wasn’t about to say that to Joe, though.
“Look,” he said in a kinder tone. “If you’re interested in investigations like this, then why don’t you train as a law enforcement officer? You might be good at it.”
I frowned. “I’m happy with the job I have. What’s wrong with the diner?”
Joe shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with working in the diner, but if you had an official job related to criminal investigations, then you would be able to get involved with police work legitimately, instead of creeping around and trying to solve the case yourself.”
But that wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t hanker after a career in law enforcement. The only reason I felt connected to this case was because I knew the ghost.
Joe’s eyes were fixed on my face, waiting to see how I would respond.
“I could just assist you in your investigation,” I suggested, thinking I was doing the decent thing and meeting him halfway.
Joe’s features tightened. “I don’t need your help. The chief and I are perfectly capable of—“
I put my hands on my hips. “Oh, I see. So you have already solved Bernie’s murder, have you?”
Joe frowned. “Don’t get cute, Harper. I’m here as a courtesy. The chief would be perfectly entitled to arrest you for wasting police time and interfering with an investigation.”
I dared to roll my eyes, but only because I was pretty sure that would never happen.
“So, who’s your top suspect?” I asked, figuring it couldn’t hurt to ask. After all, he was already annoyed with me.
Joe shook his head. “I’m not going to discuss the investigation with you.”
“But you must have some leads.”
Joe shook his head again. “None that I am prepared to share with you.”
I tilted my chin in the air. “Fine. I was just showing interest as a concerned resident of Abbot Cove.”
If he believed that, he would believe anything.
“Who do you think did it?” Joe asked, watching me carefully.
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Joe’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t get all secretive. If you know something, you should tell me.”
That was rich coming from him. “I’m not the one with secrets,” I said and immediately regretted my barbed comment.
Joe leaned one shoulder against the wall and gazed down at me. “What do you mean by that?”
“Chief Wickham has warned me to keep away from you. He implied you had some deep dark, secret, and I was better off staying away.”
Joe’s relaxed posture changed in an instant. He stopped leaning on the wall, straightened up and set his lips in a firm line.
“I’ve wasted enough of your evening. I’d better go, but I really hope I don’t find out you’ve been talking to any more of the suspects, Harper.”
I opened my mouth to continue the conversation. Surely he couldn’t just leave it like that, but he slipped out of the door and marched across the light snow toward his truck. I watched him, feeling puzzled.
Well, now my curiosity was well and truly piqued. Joe didn’t even deny he had a secret. As soon as I’d mentioned it, he couldn’t get away fast enough… So what on earth could it be?
I stood at the front door watching Joe drive away until Jess emerged from her bedroom.
“Will you shut that door? It’s freezing.”
She had a point. I shut the door and rubbed my arms to warm them.
“So, I take it Joe has reverted back to the role of telling you off for getting involved in police investigations then? I thought the party the other night had gone well.”
I shrugged. So had I. That was another thing I had to blame Bernie for.
“He just doesn’t want me to get involved, and I can’t blame him. To Chief Wickham and Joe, I must seem like a meddling busybody. They have no idea I’m trying to help Bernie Crouch and communicating with his ghost.”
Jess snorted with laughter. “I would give anything to be a fly on the wall when you try to explain that to Chief Wickham.”
Before I could reply the telephone rang, and Jess walked across the room to answer it.
“Hello?”
The smile left her face, and she grimaced.
I was about to take our teacups into the kitchen to wash them, but I paused, interested to know who was on the other end of the line.
“That sounds absolutely amazing, but I’m going to have to take a rain check, Pete,” Jess said.
I guess that meant it was Pete Bell, the guy Jess had dated briefly a few months ago. On paper, they’d seemed like a perfect couple, but he was heavily involved with historical re-enactments as a hobby, which wasn’t so much a problem on its own. The trouble was, it was all he ever seemed to talk about.
Personally, I thought it was just because he was nervous and Jess should have given him more of a chance.
“I’m sorry, Pete. But I couldn’t possibly come… I’m …er…I’m allergic to the cold.”
I frowned at Jess’s elaborate choice of excuse. Surely it would have been better to say she was working or something like that.
Picking up our cups, I carried them through to the kitchen. I turned on the tap and sighed. I could still hear Jess on the phone piling on the excuses. What a pair we were. Jess had about as much luck with men as I did.
CHAPTER 21
The following morning at breakfast time, I was sitting beside Jess in the kitchen, trying to explain why I still hadn’t managed to turn Athena’s fur back to its original color when Bernie finally turned up.
Bold as brass, he floated through the door and into the kitchen.
I looked up at him, but as I had my mouth full, I didn’t speak straightaway.
“Oh, well, I can see you’ve been very anxious over my disappearance. I’m only glad it didn’t put you off your food,” Bernie said pointedly, looking at my partially eaten slice of toast.
I rolled my eyes, swallowed and then said, “Welcome back, Bernie.”
Jess looked up with interest. “Oh, so he is back. Did he discover any clues while he was gone?”
I lifted an eyebrow at Bernie. “Well, did you?”
Bernie looked thoroughly miserable. “No, I didn’t discover anything.”
“Did he apologize?” Jess asked, looking at me.
I couldn’t tell if she was stirring things up or if she really felt injured on my behalf and believed that Bernie owed me an apology.
I shook my head. “Not yet.”
“Oh, for goodness sakes,” Bernie huffed and then hovered directly over the kitchen table. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten you in trouble with Boris Barrymore. Although, you didn’t have to follow me. I didn’t force you.”
I could tell this would devolve into another argum
ent if I let it, so I ignored Bernie’s comments. “Never mind that now. We need to figure out who killed you.”
“Well, isn’t it obvious? It had to be Boris,” Bernie said, matter-of-factly.
I finished off my last piece of toast and swallowed my tea. “Possibly. But we can’t ignore our other suspects. And we shouldn’t overlook the clue Grandma Grant gave us.”
Bernie frowned. “What clue?”
“Don’t tell me you have forgotten already? Grandma Grant told us Violet Morton was supposed to see you before you died. You had something important to tell her.”
Bernie brightened. “Oh, yes.” Then his face dropped again. “But I still can’t remember what it was about.”
I nodded. “That’s why I had plans to go and see Violet Morton today. I don’t have a shift at the diner so we can concentrate on you.”
Now that Christmas was over, things would be a lot less hectic, and I hoped we could get to the bottom of Bernie’s murder before the week was out.
We left Jess getting ready for work and headed down into town. The sun was shining on the thin layer of snow, making it glisten prettily.
It was very cold, though, and my breath formed a cloud in front of my face as I trudged along beside Bernie.
“Now, it’s time to set some ground rules,” I said. “Firstly, you are not to throw anything. Cushions or otherwise. Do not pick anything up.”
Bernie considered that for a moment and then nodded.
Violet Morton wasn’t a young woman, and I was worried that the shock of seeing ornaments floating in midair or anything like that might give her a funny turn. I certainly didn’t want to be responsible for that.
“I’m actually feeling a lot more positive this morning,” Bernie said. “Do you think Violet will really unlock some key information?”
I looked across at Bernie. He did seem a lot more cheerful now. When he’d come back first thing this morning, he’d looked pretty miserable, but perhaps that was just because he’d been forced to apologize.
“I don’t know. I hope so. It’s probably going to be a matter of asking the right questions.”
Bernie nodded. “Right. Well, if I think of good questions, I’ll let you know when we are in there.”
I looked at him skeptically. I really wasn’t sure that was a great idea. “You can make some suggestions,” I said. “As long as you remember I have to keep a clear head and can’t react to anything you’re saying. So you mustn’t talk over Violet or distract me in any way.”
Bernie gave me an incredulous look. “Honestly, Harper. I’m not a newbie ghost any longer. I’m quite an old hand at things now.”
I was too surprised to laugh. But his mention of the words newbie ghost reminded me of Loretta, and so I asked him if he’d seen her.
His face fell. “No, she didn’t want to see me. She said I was a cad. Can you believe it?”
Actually, I could. Cad was just the sort of old-fashioned word Loretta would use. And even Bernie had to admit he had form.
After we reached the end of the trail, we made the rest of the journey in silence and arrived at Violet’s sweet little cottage on the outskirts of town. It was a tiny place with gingham curtains and a bird table set up in the center of the lawn.
I turned to face Bernie. “Ready?” I asked him, holding up my hand ready to rap on the door.
He nodded.
We heard the yapping of a small dog before Violet opened the door, and I could hear her saying. “That’s enough, Roberta. There’s nothing to bark about. It’s a visitor.”
I smiled down at Violet Morton. She had to be my grandmother’s age, but she had one of those faces that always seemed happy and content with life. Her white hair was cut short and curled around her face, and her cheeks were dimpled as she smiled up at me.
“Harper, how lovely. Your grandmother said you were going to call around.”
“I hope you don’t mind. I have a few questions I wanted to ask you.”
“Of course, of course,” Violet said, scooping the little dog up into her arms.
Roberta was a tiny Yorkshire terrier, who was now quite content and had stopped barking.
Violet opened the door wider allowing me to come inside. “Come in, come in,” she said, and after closing the front door, she led me into a small sitting room.
There were two high-back chairs set beside a cozy fire.
“Have a seat. I’ll just go and make some tea.”
Although I’d had a cup of tea before Bernie and I had set off, I didn’t want to turn the tea down and appear rude because Violet Morton was very big on tea.
She was proud of her English roots and made tea properly, even going so far as using a fluffy tea cozy.
After Violet had gone out to the kitchen, Bernie hovered directly in front of the fire.
“Do you know, it’s the strangest sensation. I can’t feel a thing. Hot or cold it all feels the same.”
I felt sorry for Bernie. The warmth from the fire was delicious and was slowly thawing out my feet that had turned into blocks of ice on the walk over to Violet’s house.
With Violet occupied in the kitchen, I took the chance to look around. It was a lovely, homely little place. The wallpaper was a delicate rose-printed pattern, and the paintings on the wall were of boats in the harbor. Grandma Grant had told me Violet’s husband had been a sailor.
Violet bustled in with a tea tray.
She smiled broadly. “There’s nothing quite like a lovely cup of tea on a cold day like this.”
I told Violet I took milk, but no sugar. Settled back in the comfortable chair, enjoying the warmth of the fire, I opened my mouth to launch into my long list of questions, but before I could, Violet asked, “Did I ever tell you about the time my husband and I visited London?”
I was trapped in a difficult situation. Grandma Grant had already told me to make sure to avoid the subject of Violet’s trip to London. Apparently, when she got going on the subject, she could talk the hind legs off a donkey, and I didn’t have time for that today, but I also didn’t want to be rude.
So, I did the only thing I could do. I smiled bravely and said, “No, I don’t think you did. Did you have a nice time?”
Forty-five minutes later, I had heard all about Violet’s trip to the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, her delightful afternoon tea at Blenheim Palace and how she’d gotten a photograph taken with a soldier who wore a big black, wooly hat and never smiled.
She had been determined to dig out that particular photograph to show me, and I had to be quite insistent that it didn’t matter right now.
“Really, it’s not necessary. I know exactly the soldiers you mean. I’ve seen pictures of them before.”
“Oh, well, if you’re sure?”
Violet stopped rifling around in the dresser drawers.
“Absolutely,” I said. “Now, I did have a couple of questions for you.”
Violet sat down in the high-back chair opposite me and said, “Go ahead. I’ll be happy to help in any way I can.”
I jumped in my chair as Bernie gave a blood-curdling scream.
My eyes darted to the floor, where he had curled up and pretended to go to sleep when Violet’s story about London went on and on. The reason for his outraged scream was the Yorkshire terrier, Roberta, who had just walked straight over him, or technically, I supposed, through him.
I took a deep calming breath and prepared to continue.
“It’s about Bernie Crouch,” I said.
Violet nodded sadly. “Yes, that was a terrible shame. I knew his mother. She was a lovely lady.”
“Grandma Grant told me that Bernie had arranged to come and see you on the day he died.”
Violet nodded. “That’s right, but he never made it. He was supposed to come and talk to me after he’d finished playing Santa Claus.”
“And do you know why he wanted to talk to you?”
Violet sighed. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I thought it might have something to d
o with why he died, and if I knew anything, I’d want to tell the police, of course.”
I nodded and wondered whether I would get away with asking Violet Morton not to mention to Chief Wickham that I’d been to see her. I decided against it. It wasn’t fair to ask Violet to lie for me. I would just have to deal with the chief’s anger when he found out.
“So, you have absolutely no idea why he wanted to talk to you?”
“Well, all he said was that he had something important to tell me about somebody.”
“And do you know who that somebody was?”
Violet shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
I frowned. This wasn’t really getting us any further, at all. I already had this information from Grandma Grant.
“So, did you often talk to Bernie?”
Violet shook her head. “No, not really. We didn’t have much in common, apart from the obvious.”
“The obvious?”
Violet nodded. “We were both having counseling sessions with Dr. Madeline Clarkson. I’d seen him a couple of times in the past few months. His appointment was straight after mine, so he’d often turn up just as I was leaving. We didn’t talk for long.”
I shot a glance at Bernie, who looked like a light bulb had just been switched on above his head. We had spoken about the Dr. Madeline Clarkson connection before, but he hadn't thought it was important.
“In fact, Bernie called me just after my counseling session on Christmas Eve. You see, that’s when my husband passed away, and Dr. Madeline was ever so kind and said we could have an extra session on that day. She really is lovely. So easy to talk to.”
I smiled and took a sip of my tea.
That was interesting. As I stared into the flickering flames of the fire, I couldn’t help wondering whether Dr. Madeline was somehow involved in all this. Or if she’d been counseling Bernie, maybe she had some idea who wanted to kill him.
I looked across at Violet and asked, “Did Bernie drop any other hints?”
Violet shook her head and reached down to stroke Roberta who had curled up by her feet. “I’m afraid not. He asked me if I’d been to my counseling session, and then he told me he had some very important information to share, but he couldn’t go into details. He said he’d let me know later. I waited for him to visit me after he’d finished his role as Santa Claus in the grotto. Then I heard what had happened.” She shook her head. “Poor Bernie.”