Christmas Spirit (The Middle-aged Ghost Whisperer Book 1): (Ghost Cozy Mystery series)

by Morgana Best

  I hung my painting and then stood back to admire it. I was fairly confident that I had hung it the right way up, though with abstract paintings it wasn’t always easy to tell. I walked past the painting but paused, looking at it. No, I didn’t think it was quite right. I pulled it off the wall, and turned it, and then hung it again.

  “That’s a nice painting,” Christina said. “Are you sure it’s the right way up?”

  The longer I looked at it, the less sure I was. I went to the painting and sighed. It was a perfect square, so I couldn’t even be sure that it was supposed to go only two ways. Any of the four directions might be right. I had just taken it down and rotated it ninety degrees when my phone rang.

  “Hey there, old lady,” Constance said when I answered.

  “Listen, if you’re going to call yourself an old lady there’s nothing I can do about it,” I said, “but if you start calling me an old lady, I might kick your butt. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas to you, too,” Constance said. “You know, you need a man in your life.”

  “I’ll have you know I had drinks with a man last night,” I said, and that was mostly true.

  “Do tell,” Constance said. She obviously thought I was joking.

  “Nothing to tell, really,” I admitted.

  Constance laughed. “What are you doing now?”

  “I’m hanging a painting. It’s my Christmas present to myself,” I said. “It’s an abstract, so it’s not easy to tell if I have it the right way up.”

  After I finished speaking to Constance, I called Iris to wish her a Merry Christmas, and then I called Barbara. Now I could take some aspirin.

  I had just taken two and returned to the living room when Rainbow came out. “I need to lie down,” she said, “but Luke wants to watch a movie. I’m going to leave him out here so the three of you can watch him.” With that, she pushed Luke into the room and left.

  The three of us exchanged horrified glances. Luke picked up a plastic saw from his plastic tool kit, apparently a Christmas gift. He charged over to me and tried to saw off my arm. He then ran to my painting and somehow pulled it off the wall.

  “I’ll find a movie for you to watch, Luke,” I said, in an attempt to distract him. I flipped some channels, but every movie I selected elicited loud screams of protest. At one point he appeared to hold his breath, and he turned red.

  “Prudence, stop looking for a movie,” Uncle Tim said. “Just pick one and make Luke watch it.”

  Luke ran over to Uncle Tim and kicked him in the shins.

  Uncle Tim picked up Luke and sat him on his knee. “Now you listen to me, you little brat,” he said. “You are going to be very good for us, or I’ll give you a good spanking when your mother isn’t watching. And don’t you dare tell your mother what I just said. Now, you sit and watch the movie and be a good boy, all right?”

  Luke nodded. “Good boy,” he said. He sat in front of the TV.

  I was speechless at the transformation. I went over to my painting to check it. To my delight, it was undamaged, and better still, on the back of the painting was a folded note right by the frame, taped there by the artist. I hadn’t been able to see it before, but the knock must have dislodged it from under the edge of the frame. “A Christmas miracle!” I exclaimed. I pulled the note from the back of the canvas and unfolded it. It was a little sketch, showing me the proper way to hang it. I smiled when I realized that I had been right the first time.

  I hung the painting, and then went to the sofa to sit next to Christina. I sighed and stretched. With my headache gone, I was starting to relax. Maybe I would make myself a nice cup of lemon and ginger tea. At least Luke was now quiet, his eyes glued to the TV.

  Just then, there was a knock on my door.

  Chapter 11

  I wasn’t expecting anyone, and I’d been looking forward to relaxing.

  I opened the door to find Constance standing there. She pushed past me.

  She was holding two bottles of champagne under one arm, and a big bag in the other. “I thought we could work on your painting problem now,” she said, charging into the living room. She nodded to Christina and Uncle Tim, and then stopped in front of the painting. “As I feared, it’s upside down.”

  “Actually, that’s how it’s supposed to go,” I said. “I figured it out.”

  Constance clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and shook her head. She set the two bottles and the bag on my coffee table and then went to the painting. “No, I’m telling you, it’s upside down,” she said.

  “The artist left a picture of how it goes,” I said a bit more fiercely than I had intended. I was in the mood to let the air out of Constance’s sails to a degree, but somehow she managed to keep right on sailing.

  “Then he made a mistake.” She reached up and pulled the painting off the wall, and then turned it and set it up again. “There,” she said. “That’s what the artist should’ve done.” She turned to look at me. “Aren’t you going to get a few glasses? Christmas Day is a perfect time for champagne.”

  I knew that any time was the perfect time for champagne to Constance, but I didn’t say anything. Instead I went into my kitchen and got three champagne flutes. I handed one to everyone when I returned. She already had a bottle open.

  “Aren’t you having any?” she asked as she filled her glass.

  “Not today,” I said, shaking my head.

  “If I were you, I would want a drink,” Constance said dismissively. “Go and get a glass.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Why would you want a drink if you were me?”

  “You’re all alone on Christmas,” she said, waving her hand at me.

  “No I’m not,” I said, puzzled. “You’re here now, and so are Christina and Uncle Tim—oh, and Luke.”

  Constance smiled and sat down. “Now that I solved your painting dilemma, we can talk and drink. Here’s your gift.”

  She handed me an envelope, but I protested. “Constance, we said no gifts this year.”

  She shrugged. “It’s just a ticket to the Christmas Ball in Tamworth. I didn’t want to go alone, so I bought you a ticket, too.”

  I opened it. “Thanks, Constance, but I can’t go and leave my guests.”

  Uncle Tim and Christina both spoke at once urging me to go. I sighed. I didn’t really want to go to a ball, and I felt rude leaving my guests, but I couldn’t see a way out of it. That ticket must have been expensive.

  Constance filled her glass and then turned to me. “So why isn’t your daughter speaking to you yet? Imagine, a daughter not speaking to her mother. You know, ninety-five percent of polled mothers and daughters named each other as their best friend. It’s just the way of nature.” She downed her flute of champagne in one gulp, and then poured another.

  I just nodded and then shrugged. “It’s her dad,” I said, not wishing to get into the subject yet again. “He’s feeding her lies, as usual.”

  “Yes, well, I could’ve told you that, you poor thing. I can just sense things about people, you know. I have a highly developed sixth sense. Most people wouldn’t understand. I’m a very gifted person.”

  “Imagine that,” I said sarcastically.

  “This woman has got to be kidding.”

  I turned to see Alum standing across the room. I grinned, but of course I couldn’t say anything back to him.

  “What are you smiling about?” Constance asked me.

  I shrugged, and then thought I’d be mischievous. “I’m smiling at a handsome ghost,” I said.

  “Well, you should be so lucky, to have a handsome man in your house, alive or dead. Like that would ever happen! How many years has it been since you had a man in your house?”

  I paled, but luckily, she changed the subject. “Go get yourself a glass,” she said.

  “No, really, I’m fine.”

  Constance sighed and stood. “I’ll get you one,” she said, and she stalked out into the kitchen.

  “That’s peer pressure, yo
u know,” Uncle Tim said.

  “She’s a nightmare sometimes,” I whispered.

  Uncle Tim pulled a face. “Tell her to go.”

  “I feel sorry for her,” I admitted.

  Constance came back. She filled a glass and held out to me. “Drink,” she said.

  I shook my head. “No,” I said. “Really Constance, not right now. It’s not even lunch time.”

  Constance shrugged her shoulders. “Suit yourself,” she said, “but it’s lunchtime somewhere in the world. Besides, it’s Christmas, and everyone drinks champagne for breakfast at Christmas.” She refilled her own glass, took a gulp, and then fixed me with a steely gaze. “I feel like we should talk.”

  “About what?” I asked cautiously.

  “This life you’re living. It’s too lonely.”

  I swallowed down a bit of anger before I spoke. “This isn’t my whole life,” I said. “I’m usually out on the road, you know.”

  “Well that’s just as lonely, isn’t it? Maybe more lonely. Going from one place to the next, the hotels, the rented cars, the planes.”

  “This woman is nosy,” Alum said to me from his spot across the room.

  “I know,” I said. I was answering Alum, but Constance obviously thought I was speaking to her.

  “If you know, then let’s change it. Let me help you. I can, you know. I had some professors in college who absolutely begged and begged me to go into psychology. They thought I could really help people.”

  “Constance, you have a degree in English, or did you say chemistry? How would they possibly know you were good at psychology?”

  If Constance was offended, she didn’t show it. “I helped people. Everyone could see it. I was pulled in a lot of different directions.”

  I just nodded. Sometimes, with Constance, that was the best thing to do.

  Constance poured herself a glass from the second bottle of champagne. She had finished the first bottle. “Oh my goodness, it makes me feel better that the four of us are all working on this,” she said as she tapped the empty bottle against her knee. “Otherwise I would think I had a problem.”

  “Constance, I’m not drinking,” I said, but she ignored me.

  “You might be stuck with me all day if I drink more. I had better not drive like this. You know, if you’d had the sense to marry a better man,” she said, “the kids would be here. He would be here.”

  “She’s horrible,” Alum said.

  “That’s for sure!” I said with feeling, but once again Constance thought I was talking to her.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “You have me.” And right then, her head fell back, and she emitted a series of loud, grinding snores.

  “She’s just as lovely when she’s asleep,” Uncle Tim said.

  I laughed. “Merry Christmas, Uncle Tim.”

  “Merry Christmas, Prudence,” he said.

  I looked at Alum who was standing next to my painting, and felt a wave of sympathy for him. I was the only person who could see and speak with him, as far as either of us knew. That had to be a pretty lonely existence.

  “Well, Merry Christmas to you all,” I said, turning to look at Alum.

  “Merry Christmas, Prudence,” Alum said. “I would have gotten you something, but you know, I don’t think I have access to my bank account anymore.”

  I smiled. I was trying to think of something witty to say when he faded away. I looked at the snoring drunk woman on my couch. I had seen her drunk many a time, and I knew it would be hours before she woke up.

  Rainbow came into the room and walked straight over to Luke. “Have they all been looking after you well?” she asked him, shooting a nasty look at Uncle Tim.

  Luke turned around and looked at Uncle Tim. He nodded vigorously. “Yes! Yes!” he exclaimed. “Nice Uncle Tim!”

  Chapter 12

  I awoke early on Boxing Day, feeling refreshed, happy with the knowledge that it would be hours before the others awoke. After my second cup of coffee, I decided to check my email. I didn’t want to get back into work mode just yet, but I wanted to see if my manager had emailed me about bookings. The first email I saw totally took my mind off that. It was from Amanda Wayland.

  Prudence,

  A cop, Detective Kelly, came to see me the day before Christmas. He wanted to know if my brother had ever spoken about Jason Taylor or any of them. I told him he hadn’t said anything about it to me, but I’m not sure he believed me. I was wondering if you could see anything, or get some feelings, as to whether he’s going to come and question me again.

  Amanda

  I read the message a few times. So a detective had spoken with Amanda. It seemed odd because I was sure the police would have spoken with her well before now, and would have gotten all they needed from her. So if someone was asking her questions now, they might be looking to clear up loose ends.

  “What’s wrong?” a disembodied voice asked me. “You seem worried.”

  “Brady’s sister, Amanda, emailed me,” I said. “I was going to call her.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said a detective went to see her, to ask her about the people that her brother was interviewing.”

  “A detective? Did she give his name?”

  I jabbed my finger at the screen. “Detective Kelly,” I said.

  Alum shook his head. “Stanfield Kelly. That’s my dear old partner.”

  I gasped. “The one who shot you?”

  “The one and the same.”

  “Is he dangerous?”

  “I would say he’s dangerous,” Alum said to me, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  I nodded. “I know. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Alum sighed, a long and rattling sigh. I thought it a bit odd considering he didn’t even need lungs.

  “Do you think it’s okay to meet her and talk? If the police have been to ask her questions, then surely she must know something about her brother’s murder.”

  “Yes that makes sense,” Alum said. “It could be something she thinks is insignificant, but it would be good if you could question her.”

  “I won’t go to her house,” I said. “I can ask her to meet me somewhere.”

  Alum nodded and looked at the floor. “I’m starting to feel bad that I got you involved.”

  “No, it’s fine. I do want to help you,” I said.

  “I know. I just want you to be careful,” he added.

  I was uneasy. I had a bad feeling about it all. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but perhaps that’s exactly what I needed to be. Surely it was better if I thought everyone was more of a threat than they were. It would keep me from ending up like Alum.

  Alum broke into my thoughts. “I do remember being shot by my partner, but I don’t remember what I had discovered that led to that. Was he only looking out for himself, or did he answer to someone? I think there’s a good chance he was on a gang’s payroll. At any rate, you need to stay far away from Stanfield Kelly. He’s not a homicidal maniac by any means, but he did shoot me because I found out something. It won’t do any good if he thinks you’re close to whatever it is, too.” Alum paused and held up one hand. “Of course, he might’ve shot me for a reason completely unrelated to the Brady Wayland case, but I won’t take any chances with your safety, Prudence.”

  My stomach fluttered at his protectiveness. It seemed more than just a cop-civilian sentiment, but then I caught myself. This guy is dead, a small voice said inside my head. I shook myself. Aloud I said, “I need to speak with Amanda. I want to make sure she wasn’t keeping anything from me. If a dirty cop was poking around, maybe I should be doing the same.”

  Alum frowned. “Don’t forget that Kelly would be doing normal cop stuff ninety-nine percent of the time, I’m sure. His visit to Amanda could well have been on legitimate business. I keep coming back to the fact that we don’t yet know if Wayland’s murder was related to my, err, death. It most likely was, but I can’t be sure.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll call her n
ow and see if she wants to meet for coffee.”

  Amanda had proven quite keen to talk to me, and wanted me to meet her at eleven at a little café in her town.

  If I was going to be there by eleven, I needed to hurry. I went to my bedroom to get changed and put on some perfume and makeup.

  Alum was still in my living room when I walked out.

  “You look lovely,” he said with an appraising smile. “That color blue really brings out your eyes.”

  I smiled at him, while chanting, He’s a ghost; he’s a ghost, over and over in my head. Alum was the nicest man I had ever met, and he was dead.

  “Be safe,” he said with a worried frown.

  Chapter 13

  I felt somewhat guilty leaving a note for my guests, but I did, with instructions as to where everything was for their breakfast. I wasn’t so worried about the house being destroyed now that Uncle Tim seemed to have Luke’s measure.

  I found the café easily enough. It was dark and dismal, with hardly any patrons. It reminded me of her house when I’d first met with her. There were wide windows at the front, but I supposed that the black and dark-crimson walls had sucked all the light from the room. The orange booths did nothing to add to the ambience. It was an entirely uninviting place. At least the smell of coffee was welcoming, although it was all but overtaken by the smell of fried food.

  Amanda was in a booth near the back, already nursing a steaming cup of coffee. I went to her and sat, and before I had even opened my mouth, a waitress appeared to take my order.

  “A soy latté, please,” I said.

  “With milk?” she asked.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Um, no. A soy latté, please.”

  The young woman left. I figured it must be her first day on the job. I turned to Amanda.

  “Thanks for coming to see me,” she said. “I just thought you should know that the cops came to see me. I didn’t know who else you had been talking to. I wanted to make sure the detective questioning me didn’t have anything to do with you.”