Daisy's Chain: A Cozy Ghost Mystery (Storage Ghost Mysteries Book 5)

by Gillian Larkin

  Grace would have preferred tea but the coffee would restore her better. She took a sip, it was deliciously strong and bitter.

  Sylvester placed something in her lap. A chocolate bar. He winked at her and said, “I have to get back to the auction. Will you be okay?”

  A warmth flooded through Grace. How lovely it was to have people fuss over her, even if she’d had to collapse to get the attention. She said, “I’ll be fine, thank you.”

  Sylvester gave her one of his Hollywood smiles and walked away. Frankie watched him go, admiration shining in his eyes. “What a guy,” he said.

  Big Bob gave a deep cough.

  “What?” Frankie said. He caught Big Bob’s look. “Oh yeah, Grace, are you okay? Do you want to sit in the van?”

  Grace looked around. She was sitting a few feet away from the lockers, she could still see everything. In fact, it was quite nice sitting here with coffee and chocolate.

  “I’ll be fine here.”

  “We’ll just be over there,” Big Bob said.

  He walked away, Frankie at his side.

  Grace could hear the banging but it was fainter. Where was it coming from?

  She drunk her coffee, ate her medicinal chocolate bar and watched the auction.

  She didn’t see any more ghosts. Her mind wandered as she thought about her school job. It was still open, she had to make a decision about going back soon. She wasn’t sure she wanted to, but what else could she do?

  BANG! BANG!

  Grace jumped as the noise echoed around her brain.

  It was louder than ever. She stood up. Where was it coming from?

  A sudden chill shot down her back.

  She could now see where the noise was coming from.

  Chapter 6

  The latest storage locker had been opened. Inside were piles and piles of bulging plastic bags.

  She heard someone call out, “Charity scam! We don’t want this, Sylvester! Shut the door!”

  Other people joined in with the jeering.

  Grace didn’t pay them attention.

  There was a ghost inside the locker, standing on the pile of bags. The ghost of a man. He looked to be in his sixties. He was bald and was wearing a grey fastened up shirt and smart trousers.

  The man was surrounded by a black cloud, it was like a full body halo. Grace had never seen anything like it before. The man was banging on the metal side of the locker with his ghost fist. Every time he banged the cloud shimmered and grew bigger, almost like it was feeding off the anger radiating from the man.

  Grace sucked her breath in, she had seen angry people before but nothing like this man. His whole face was contorted with rage as he kept banging his fist on the side of the locker. She didn’t even know that ghosts could connect with solid things.

  Grace was aware of the auction in the background.

  No one wanted this locker.

  She didn’t blame them. Who wanted to sift through stuff that had already been sifted through?

  Grace couldn’t help herself, she walked closer. She could smell the aroma of unwashed clothes. She looked up at the man again at the top of the pile.

  The man stopped in mid bang. He narrowed his eyes and looked straight at Grace, hate shooting towards her.

  Grace felt a scream rising in her throat. She swallowed it back down.

  The man pointed a bony finger at her. “You! You can see me! Get me out! Now!”

  Grace couldn’t move, she just stared at the man.

  “Idiot girl! Get me out!” the man yelled.

  Grace tried to turn away. He could bang all he liked, she didn’t want anything to do with him. She focused her attention on Sylvester.

  “Come on, folks, I know it’s not the best locker but there could be treasure hidden in there. Who will give me £10? No? £5? No? It must be worth one pound to someone?”

  Grace felt someone grab her arm. She looked to her side, there was no one there.

  Her arm started to rise. What was going on?

  She heard a nasty laugh. She looked at the ghost in the locker. He was smirking at her.

  Her arm raised up higher, Grace tried to lower it but it felt like she was pushing against a wall. Sweat began to form on her forehead. She shook her head at the man.

  His smirk grew, he said, “You’ll do what I want you to do.”

  “Sold!” Sylvester cried out.

  Grace knew who had bought the junk filled locker.

  Frankie was at her side in a second. “Grace! What the hell! Why have you bought this? I’m not filling the van up with this stinky mess. And it’s certainly not going back to the shop! What were you thinking?”

  Grace’s arm dropped to her side. She looked from the ghost to Frankie. She didn’t know what to say.

  Big Bob walked over and gave her a little smile. “Well, that’s a fine mess you’ve got yourself into, Grace.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “I couldn’t bear the thought of all those charity bags being left there,” she lied.

  Frankie shook his head. “Never bid with your heart, Grace, everyone knows that. You’ll have to sort this out, I’m going to look at other lockers.”

  Big Bob gave her a kind look. “We all make mistakes. Let me know if you need any help shifting this. There are some charity shops nearby, they might collect them.”

  Grace gave a little nod. She watched everyone walk away to the next set of lockers. She ignored the pitying looks that the other bidders gave her. She was on her own.

  Why did she have to see ghosts?

  Her eyes prickled.

  She blinked a few times, there was no point feeling sorry for herself. She lifted her chin and turned to face the evil ghost that had forced her to bid.

  Chapter 7

  The man was now standing at the front of the unit. Grace didn’t like the satisfied look on his face.

  “Well?” he began. “Are you going to get me out of here now?”

  “Did you force me to raise my arm?” Grace asked, although she already knew the answer.

  “No one else was going to waste their money on this rubbish. As soon as I saw you I knew I could influence you. I didn’t think it would work so well, you must be weaker than I thought.”

  Grace looked closer at the man. His face wasn’t as contorted with rage now but she could see the anger in his eyes. There was also a calculating look too, as if he was working out how to influence her further.

  Grace said, “I can see you because I can see ghosts. You do know you’re dead, don’t you? I have helped ghosts before from these kind of storage units. I helped them because I wanted to. I don’t want to help you.”

  She stop talking to see what his response would be.

  He looked her up and down. “I didn’t ask for your help, I never ask for help. I’m ordering you to do what I want.”

  Grace took a step closer to him, her resolve feeling braver than her suddenly weak legs. She said, “No.”

  “But you have to! I have to get out of this place! I have to see her!”

  Grace faltered. “You have to see who?”

  “My wife. She needs my help, I just know it.”

  The man’s features altered from anger to concern. Grace wasn’t entirely convinced, there was still a flicker of hate in his eyes although the black halo around him had diminished slightly.

  “Please,” the man added.

  “You could tell me more about your problem, then I can decide if I can help,” Grace offered. “And I mean help, I’m not taking orders from you.”

  The man raised his arms helplessly and said, “I don’t know what the problem is. June, my wife, she always turned to me for advice. I can feel that there is some sort of decision that she needs to make, she needs my opinion. It’s important. Please.”

  Grace sighed. She was such a pushover at times. “Okay, I’ll help but no more forcing me to do things against my will.”

  “Okay. Now can you get me out,” he said.

  Grace surveyed the piles
of bags. “When I’ve helped ghosts before they’ve been attached to something, usually something that belonged to them. Silly question, but do you recognise anything in here?”

  “No, and I’ve been in here a while. Can’t you just look through all of them? I need to get to my wife.”

  “I can’t look through them all, it would take hours.”

  Grace didn’t want to look through the bags, the unwashed smell was even stronger now. What if there were rats under all these bags?

  Something that Big Bob said came to mind. She took out her phone and went online. She soon found what she wanted.

  “We haven’t got time for phone calls! What is it about you young people and your phones! Can’t you live without them?”

  Grace raised an eyebrow at the man and gave him a cold look. “I’m phoning a charity shop to see if they can come and collect these bags. Then we could see which one you’re attached to.”

  The man folded his arms and nodded. “I see. Tell them to hurry.”

  Grace turned away as she talked to someone on her phone.

  There was something about this ghost that she didn’t like.

  She knew for certain that she didn’t trust him.

  Chapter 8

  The first two charity shops didn’t want to know. The man at the third one laughed at her and put the phone down. The fourth agreed to come round, on the proviso that Grace pay them £50.

  Grace had no option but to agree. She didn’t understand how a charity shop could charge, they’d told her it was for expenses, Grace wasn’t convinced.

  “Well?” the man asked. “Have you sorted it out?”

  Grace put her phone away. “Someone will be here within the hour.”

  The man threw his hands up in despair. “Are you just going to stand there and wait! Why don’t you start taking these bags out, I might be, what was it you said? Attached? I might be attached to the first few bags.”

  Grace shook her head. “I can’t just line them up outside, they’ll be in the way. You’ll have to be patient, Mr …”

  “Mr Manville, Dan Manville. You can call me Mr Manville. You could move a couple of bags.”

  Mr Manville? More like Mr Meanville, Grace thought.

  Grace heard some voices. She turned away from Mr Manville. Frankie and Big Bob walked over to her.

  Frankie smiled when he saw the locker again. “Well, what are you going to do with all that?”

  “I’ve phoned a charity shop, they’re coming to collect it.”

  Frankie took his phone out. “You don’t mind if I film you, do you? I could put this on my site under the heading of what not to do.”

  Grace frowned at him and tried to defend herself. “It’s all going to charity, where it should have gone in the first place.”

  “Is that a no?” Frankie asked, holding his phone up.

  Big Bob stepped in. “It’s a no. Do you want us to wait with you, Grace?”

  “No, thanks, I’ll be fine,” Grace said. She wouldn’t be able to talk to the grumpy ghost if there were people around. She said to Frankie, “I’ll get the bus home.”

  “Okay. See you later. I‘ll settle your account at the office. You can pay me the £1 later,” Frankie said. He started to walk away.

  Big Bob said, “Give me a ring if you need any help.”

  “Will do, thanks again. Bye.”

  As soon as Frankie and Big Bob left Mr Manville said, “Who was that big fella? Your dad?”

  “No, a friend but he acts like my dad sometimes, he’s really kind.”

  “Pah! Kindness doesn’t get you anywhere! People take advantage and throw kindness in your face.”

  Grace raised her eyebrows at his outburst but didn’t say anything. Mr Manville looked like he enjoyed arguing.

  The charity van arrived one hour later. Mr Manville refused to talk to Grace until he left the locker, Grace was fine with that.

  The two young men that got out of the van swore when they saw the locker.

  One of them said, “We’ll take the money up front.”

  Grace shook her head, she must look like a soft touch. “I’ll pay you when every bag has been put in your van.”

  The men gave her a look and walked into the locker. Grace was tempted to help them but was sure that if she started they’d let her do all of it. She walked slightly away from the locker and watched as each bag was moved. Mr Manville came to the front of the locker. As each bag left the locker he stayed right where he was.

  Grace put her hand over her nose. The smell was getting worse. Was it her imagination or could she hear the scampering of tiny paws in the corners of the locker?

  The young men were sweating profusely and adding to the general aromatic air.

  Grace began to get worried as they shifted the last few bags. Mr Manville wasn’t moving. She could tell by his expression that he was getting worried too. What would they do if he wasn’t attached to anything?

  A dreadful thought occurred to Grace. What if they actually had to empty each bag to search the items inside? Her heart sank. She didn’t want to do that but knew that she’d have to if needed.

  They were down to the last bag. One of the men picked it up and walked out of the locker.

  Grace held her breath and looked at Mr Manville. He didn’t move.

  The man flung the bag into the back of the van.

  There was a blur as Mr Manville flew out of the locker and into the van.

  The charity man reached up to close the van door.

  “Stop!” Grace called out.

  Chapter 9

  “Now what?” the young man moaned.

  “That last bag! I need it!” Grace said.

  “Are you having a laugh? Why would you want a stinky old bag?”

  “I have my reasons,” Grace said. Let them think she was mad, she didn’t care. She walked to the back of the van. Mr Manville was sitting on top of the last bag that had been thrown in.

  He pointed at it and said, “This is it! I can see my jacket!”

  The charity man scratched his head. “I don’t know which one it was.”

  Grace guided him to the right one. With a lot of sighing the man climbed in and grabbed the bag. He threw it at Grace.

  Grace caught it. Blimey, it really did stink. Mr Manville now stood at her side.

  She paid the charity men. One of them mumbled, “Should pay us more for this.”

  Mr Manville raised his fist at them. “You’re a charity! Act like one.”

  Grace agreed but didn’t say anything, she just wanted the men to go.

  She waited until the van had left the storage unit facility and then made her way to the main road, Mr Manville at her side.

  “Where’s your car?” he asked.

  “I haven’t got one,” Grace said. Her dad was driving her car on the night her parents died. Her car was ruined in the crash and she couldn’t face getting another yet. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to drive again.

  Grace walked to the nearest bus stop. “There should be a bus soon. Can you tell me more about your wife, and her possible problem?”

  “No, not here,” Mr Manville said. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked resolutely forward.

  Grace sighed. She was beginning to wish she’d stayed at home.

  The bus arrived. Grace got on and gratefully sank into a seat.

  She soon heard sniffing around the bus. Her cheeks flooded with heat as she heard people mumbling about the horrible smell on the bus.

  Please don’t make me get off, she prayed silently.

  The mumbling got louder as the bus drove on. Even the bus driver noticed.

  Grace couldn’t bear it any longer. She was only a few stops from home. She stood up and rang the bell. The mumbling on the bus stopped, Grace could feel accusing eyes on her as she walked to the front of the bus.

  She jumped off before the bus had properly stopped. She put her head down as the bus drove off, she didn’t want to look at the people as the bus wen
t past.

  Mr Manville walked at her side, still not saying a word.

  Grace’s eyes began to sting, tears threatened to appear. What was she doing? Trying to help this ghost wasn’t proving rewarding at all. She should consider going back to her teaching job.

  She let herself into her house, not caring if Mr Manville was following her.

  Her sadness had been replaced with anger. She flung her handbag down on the sofa and took the plastic bag into the kitchen. She tipped the stinky contents onto the floor. The smell whooshed up and into the back of her throat. Grace’s hand flew up to her mouth. She swallowed down the rising bile.

  Mr Manville waved his hands near the floor, trying to scoop up the clothes. “Stop it! What are you doing? Put them back!”

  With one hand covering her nose Grace said, “These are going straight in the wash.”

  “I haven’t got time to wait for a wash! Stop it right now!”

  Grace ignored him and started to load the items into the wash. She felt a sudden stiffening in her arms. She looked back at Mr Manville. “Stop trying to control me! You agreed not to do that. I won’t help you, I mean it!”

  Mr Manville sighed and collapsed onto the floor. “This is an urgent matter, I don’t want to wait.”

  “And I don’t want to suffocate. It won’t take long to wash them.”

  Mr Manville looked at the clothes. “Hang on, these aren’t my clothes.”

  “What?”

  “This jacket is but not the others.”

  Grace looked at a smart looking brown jacket. It had definitely seen better days. “Are you sure?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Right.” Grace scooped the rest of the clothes up and put them back in the bin liner. She went outside and put the bag in the bin. She flung open the windows, squirted air freshener around her house, and on the jacket, and then sat down at the kitchen table. She indicated for Mr Manville to sit down too. He did so.

  She said, “I’m a patient person, Mr Manville, but I’m at the end of my tether, well, beyond my tether. I want to know what’s going on. Now.”

  Chapter 10