4 The Silent Ghost

by Sue Ann Jaffarian

A buzzing sound signaled the door was unlocked. Kelly entered the building and made her way up the stairs to Tanisha’s apartment. It was her first visit to Tanisha’s new place.

  “Hey, this is really nice,” she said, coming through the front door. Kelly put the pizza down on the kitchen table and took a look around while Tanisha fixed a salad. The new apartment wasn’t a trendy loft but a spacious traditional flat with two separate bedrooms and a full kitchen. Tanisha’s furniture looked right at home. The living room windows looked out over a park. After looking the place over, Kelly took a seat at the table and dished pizza slices onto plates for each of them.

  “So you like it here?” she asked as Tanisha placed the salad on the table.

  “Yeah, it’s great so far, although it’s only been a few weeks. It’s going to be nice having an extra room to use as an office and for visitors. Dad said he plans on coming out again soon for a visit.”

  “He’s not sending Leroy?”

  Tanisha laughed. “No. I think that body business scared the tar out him. He may write about murder and mayhem, but this was too close to home for his comfort. He actually campaigned for me to move to Chicago, but I told him I was staying put.”

  After placing the call to her father that night at the loft, Tanisha threw clothing in a suitcase and left with Kelly. Gino Costello told her not to call the police or tell anyone about the body until he got there. He’d arrived in Boston the next morning on the first flight from O’Hare and took charge, taking Tanisha and Kelly to the police station personally to meet with the Chief of Police, who was a friend and advisor on a few of his books. They’d told the Chief the truth, that Tanisha felt she had a ghost haunting the loft and had enlisted Kelly to help, seeing as how she was a medium and the daughter of Emma Whitecastle. They left Granny out of everything and Kelly had instructed the ghost not to show up at the police station so they wouldn’t be distracted. Granny wasn’t happy about it. She wanted to see a police investigation firsthand, but she complied.

  The Chief, as a favor to Gino, had kept their names out of the news as much as possible. Most of the reports simply said a body was found during repairs being made in a loft belonging to crime writer Gino Costello. Tanisha’s dad had taken the bullet for them, drawing fire from the curious press. His book sales increased as soon as the story hit.

  “Any news about Russell Savage?” Kelly said before taking a bite of her pizza.

  “Dad called this morning to tell me he heard that Russ confessed to the murder. He’s claiming Alice’s death was an accident. That he shoved her during an argument and she died after hitting her head on some construction equipment. Since he confessed, there won’t be a trial.” Tanisha speared some lettuce with her fork. “Good news for us.”

  “Darn,” said Granny. “I wanted to see a trial.”

  Kelly frowned at the ghost but relayed her words to Tanisha.

  “My parents will be thrilled to hear that.” Kelly took a sip of her soda. “As much as I grouse about my dad being a publicity whore, he was really concerned about me and the impact this would have on my life. Even my mother was surprised. Trust me, it’s not like Grant Whitecastle to put others first.”

  “Our parents sure can surprise us, can’t they?” Tanisha licked pizza sauce from a finger.

  “Speaking of parents, my mother invited you to come to California for a visit. She said she needs to give you some instruction on ghosts and communicating with them. Your dad can come, too. She has an awesome place in the mountains. It’s built on top of Granny’s old homestead.”

  “Yeah,” chimed in Granny with excitement. “She can meet my man, Jacob.”

  “The trip to California sounds like fun, but I really don’t think I need a crash course in ghosts, Kel. I have absolutely no intention of seeing them again.” Tanisha took a big bite of pizza.

  Granny and Kelly exchanged knowing looks before Kelly set Tanisha straight. “You may not have that choice. Ghosts may decide to find you, and Mom wants you to be prepared for it. She gave me the same information when I first started seeing Granny. It’s kind of like the birds and the bees talk, but about spirits and less embarrassing.”

  Granny drifted up close. “Poor girl doesn’t have a clue how determined Emma can be.”

  “So true, Granny.”

  “Emma’s gonna flutter all over her like she’s a long-lost chick.”

  Kelly nodded with agreement.

  “What did Granny say?” Holding her pizza slice aloft, Tanisha stopped eating. “You know it’s rude to talk about someone like they’re not present.”

  Kelly wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “If you don’t come to California, I guarantee my mother will find her way to your door. She won’t rest until she feels you are properly educated about your skills.”

  “Really, Kelly, I doubt your mother would fly all the way out here just to have a little chat with me.”

  Kelly gave her new friend a wide smile based on experience. “Remember when I told you how stubborn Granny can be?”

  “You said she can be as stubborn as a mule.” Tanisha turned to the ghost. “No offense, Granny.”

  The ghost came closer, hands on her hips, and fixed an eye on Tanisha. “If I’m a mule, Emma Whitecastle is driving the cart.”

  Tanisha’s pizza fell from her hands to the table, landing cheese side down. “Oh my God, I heard that!”

  And now a special excerpt from Sue Ann Jaffarian’s first Ghost of Granny Apples Mystery…

  GHOST À LA MODE

  “MOM WENT TO A séance last night.”

  As soon as the words were out of Kelly’s mouth, Emma Whitecastle wanted to kick her daughter’s leg under the dining table. They were having Sunday dinner at Emma’s parents’ house. It was Emma’s childhood home and where Emma had moved after separating from Grant Whitecastle, Kelly’s father, just over a year ago. Instead of a well-landed kick, Emma scowled across the table at her daughter. Kelly was eighteen going on thirty. Graced with the long, elegant legs of a colt and the face of fairy-tale princess, she was both smart and smart-mouthed, and even though Emma would miss her daughter, she was looking forward to when Kelly would leave for Harvard in the fall. The divorce proceedings had been hard on Kelly, and Emma was hoping the move East would help her daughter start a new life without the ugliness of her parents’ well-publicized relationship staring her in the face from the tabloids. Although she still would not be immune, at least in Boston her daughter might escape the Hollywood sideshow and gossip surrounding the divorce.

  “A séance?” Emma’s mother, Elizabeth Miller, asked, her knife and fork frozen in midair. She stared at Emma over the top of her glasses, prim and proper, waiting for an answer.

  Emma looked at each member of her family seated at the table. Besides her mother and daughter, her father, Paul Miller, a retired heart surgeon, was also waiting to see what her answer would be. She cleared her throat.

  “Yes, Mother, a séance.” Emma took a drink from her water glass before continuing. “Tracy asked me to go with her. It had to do with research for a class she’s giving in the fall.”

  Tracy Bass was Emma’s oldest and dearest friend. They had grown apart during the last years of Emma’s marriage to Grant. Tracy had never liked Grant and had not liked the way Emma had changed under Grant’s influence. And Grant, harboring a similar dislike for Tracy, had discouraged Emma from seeing her. Seeing that she lived with Grant and not Tracy, Emma had taken the easier path of acquiescing to her husband’s wishes. But in the past six months, with Emma’s marriage all but dead, the two women had started mending the fences of their friendship.

  Tracy taught full-time at UCLA—the University of California at Los Angeles. She had begged Emma to join her the night before, saying it would be interesting. She had enticed her further with the promise of dinner beforehand at one of their favorite restaurants. Tracy had been right. It had been a very interesting evening, but outings with her flamboyant friend usually were. This one, though, had topped the li
st. Emma couldn’t stop thinking about it. It played over and over in her head like an annoying ad jingle.

  The table fell into a companionable silence as everyone resumed eating. A few minutes later, Emma asked, “Did someone from our family ever live in or around Julian, California?”

  This time, Emma’s mother dropped her fork with a clunk. All eyes turned to Elizabeth, who lowered hers as she retrieved her utensil from the middle of the plate.

  “You all right, dear?” Paul asked his wife. His eyes, dark with concern, darted from his wife to his daughter and back to his wife.

  “Just a little clumsy, that’s all.” Elizabeth put her fork back down. “I guess I’m not very hungry.”

  “Where’s Julian?” Kelly asked.

  Emma turned to her daughter. “It’s a small town in the mountains east of San Diego—a historic gold rush town. I looked it up on the Internet this morning.”

  “A ghost town?” Kelly asked with rising interest.

  “No, it’s still a small but thriving community. In fact, it’s known for its apples. According to the man who led the séance, we have a black sheep in our family who came from there.”

  “Do tell, Mom.”

  “Would you believe our family tree harbors a murderer?”

  “No way!”

  “That’s what the man said. A woman who killed her husband. She was then promptly hung.”

  “That’s pretty wild. Is this on Grandma or Grandpa’s side?” Her young, eager eyes darted between her grandparents.

  “I didn’t do it.”

  In unison, Emma and her mother jerked their heads in the same direction but saw nothing. Kelly and her grandfather kept eating.

  Emma turned to Elizabeth. “Did you hear that, Mother? Sounded like someone whispering. How odd.”

  Abruptly, Elizabeth got up from the table. “Why don’t you all have dessert on the patio. It’s so lovely outside.”

  Paul left his place at the table and went to his wife. “Are you sure you’re okay, dear?”

  Elizabeth patted his arm. “I’m fine, Paul, just tired from the theatre last night, that’s all.”

  “Mother, why don’t you rest? Kelly and I will clean up and get the dessert.”

  “Thank you, Emma. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll skip dessert and go upstairs and read.”

  Emma and Kelly were just finishing cleaning the kitchen when Nate Holden, Kelly’s boyfriend, dropped by.

  “We’re going to a movie,” Kelly announced.

  “You kids want some pie before you go?” Emma cut into an apple pie and placed a slice on a dessert plate.

  “No thanks, Mrs. Whitecastle. The movie starts soon.”

  Emma smiled. Nate Holden was a polite young man from a good family and the same age as Kelly. He was tall and slim and wore his brown hair long. They had been dating for almost two years. Emma wondered what would happen to the relationship once Kelly and Nate went their separate ways in the fall. While Kelly was heading to Harvard, Nate was off to Stanford. Seldom did high-school infatuations hold up under long-distance stress and strain. Kelly had been torn about going to Harvard because of Nate, but in the end, she knew she couldn’t miss the opportunity. As much as Emma liked Nate, she had been relieved when Kelly had made her decision to go East. She didn’t want her daughter to plan her life around a man as she had.

  After Nate and Kelly left, Emma carried a tray holding two slices of warm apple pie with vanilla ice cream and two cups of decaf coffee out to where her father was relaxing on the patio. Emma took a seat in a chaise longue next to him. Beyond the patio, the family’s black Scottish terrier, Archie, rolled around on the grass.

  “Apple pie?” her father asked as he readied to take his first bite. “Where did this come from?”

  “I picked it up from the bakery this morning.”

  Paul studied his daughter with interest. “I didn’t think you liked apple pie. Thought you were a lemon meringue kind of gal like your mother.”

  Emma shrugged. “Generally, I am.” She took a bite and chewed, savoring the homey flavor on her tongue. “It’s not that I dislike apple pie, I just never think of having it. Guess it’s because we never had it much while I was growing up. This, however, is quite tasty.” She took a sip of coffee between bites. “Funny thing—this morning, when I was at the grocery store, I got the most intense craving for it.” She laughed. “So much so, I’m surprised I didn’t stop the car and dig into it on the side of the road like some junkie.”

  The words startled her father. He stopped eating. “This morning? You got the craving for apple pie this morning?”

  “Actually, the craving started last night during that silly séance. It was quiet, just the leader speaking, and suddenly I could smell apple pie or at least cinnamon.” Again she shrugged. “It was probably one of the candles they were burning. Some candles smell good enough to eat.”

  “Honey, how did Julian come up?”

  “Julian, California?” A bit of pie escaped from her fork and landed on her blouse. Emma dabbed at it while she thought about Julian. “It was something Milo said to me.”

  “Milo?” Paul’s graying eyebrows raised like two caterpillars snapping to attention. Milo wasn’t a common name, but it was one he’d come across before.

  “Yes, Milo, the leader of the séance. He said someone, a spirit, wanted very much to talk to me. Said it was important.” She glanced at her father. “How silly is that? Tracy was almost green with envy since no ghosts were speaking with her. Just me and two other folks had that dubious honor.” Emma’s tone was filled with amusement. “Milo asked me if I had family in Julian. Said the spirit was a woman from there.”

  “Did he say anything more about the woman? Any details? A name?” Paul tried to hold himself back. He didn’t want his daughter to sense how concerned he was, at least not yet.

  “Just a woman who’d been hung for murdering her husband.”

  Emma looked over at her father. He was sitting on the edge of his patio chair, watching her as if she were a child ready to take a nasty spill.

  “You don’t believe this malarkey, do you, Dad?” When he didn’t answer, she continued. “For cripes sake, you’re a doctor—a scientist.”

  Paul took a big drink of his coffee. “As a doctor, I studied science, Emma. But during my years as a doctor, I witnessed many astonishing things. Unexplainable things. Things having to do with death and dying, and things that happen when people die. The idea that spirits of the dead, or ghosts, are among us and are trying to communicate with us is a fascinating one, is it not?”

  Emma gave it some thought. “Yes, it is, in theory. But I’m not so sure it’s real. Last night, except for me, the other two people Milo said had…well, visitors, is how he put it…were desperately looking for that contact. They attended the séance hoping, even praying, that someone they loved would speak to them from the grave. It would have been easy for them to grasp at any straw.”

  “But what about you?”

  “What about me?” Emma fidgeted in her seat. “I went to keep Tracy company. For me, it was an evening with a friend, nothing more. Maybe Milo was trying to make a believer out of me, to rope me into his scam. Considering it was fifty-five dollars a head last night, it really is quite a scam.”

  “Are you sure that’s the only reason you went?”

  Her father had a knack for digging with questions like some folks worked with shovels. Emma always thought he should have been a psychiatrist instead of a surgeon. When she looked away without responding, he continued.

  “Emma, I know things have been very unsettling since you and Grant split up. Your child is about to move away from home. You don’t have a career or real purpose in life, and you’re floundering a bit. Maybe, in some way, you went along with Tracy to look for answers, perhaps even a focus to your life.”

  This time, Emma looked directly at her father. “Really, Dad, does that sound like me?”

  Paul Miller shrugged with frustration. His daughte
r had both hardened and softened during her marriage to Grant Whitecastle. She was more cynical these days, but she also lacked the spunky backbone she’d had growing up. He missed the inner strength that used to glow from within her like a candle in a jack-o’-lantern.

  “Hard to say, Emma. You used to be much more determined and focused than you are now. I know you’re hurting, honey, but it’s time to move on.”

  “You trying to get rid of me, Dad?” Her tone was joking, but in her heart Emma was a bit scared.

  “No, honey, far from it. You’re welcome to live with us as long as you like. You know that. We love having you here.” He paused and studied his daughter before speaking again. “But I think it would be healthier for you to get on with your life. You are far too young to be holed up here with us old folks. Travel. Buy a home. Find a career. As soon as a fair settlement is reached, sign the divorce papers and get on with your life. Kick Grant Whitecastle to the curb like he deserves and be done with him.”

  “You sound like Tracy.”

  “Tracy is a smart and charming woman. I’m very glad you two are spending time together again.”

  Emma laughed lightly. “I’m not so sure Mother agrees with you. I think she’s afraid I’ll adopt Tracy’s bohemian ways.” It was true. Elizabeth loved Tracy Bass like a second daughter but didn’t understand why Tracy preferred vintage secondhand shops to Saks.

  “And I think Tracy rubbing off on you a little wouldn’t hurt.” He smiled at her. “And that’s a doctor’s opinion.”

  Emma and her father sat in silence, enjoying the evening. Archie brought over a tennis ball and dropped it at Paul’s feet. Paul picked it up and tossed it, and the dog scampered off in the direction of the throw. Archie brought it back, and Paul threw it again. After another throw, Paul decided it was time to tell his daughter about Ish Reynolds.

  “Your ancestors did come from Julian, Emma.”

  “So it’s true?”

  He tossed the ball again for Archie. “Yes, your mother’s people were originally from Kansas but settled in Julian in the mid to late 1800s.”

  “Is that what agitated Mother at dinner? That I found out?”