If You've Got It, Haunt It

by Rose Pressey

  As Charlotte and Marie glared at me, I felt pulled in opposite directions. “I’m sorry, but they’re just not for sale right now. If you’d like to check back later . . .”

  Marie turned around and walked out the door. The bell above the door jingled in her wake.

  “What do you think that was all about?” I asked.

  Charlotte rested her hands on her hips. “She probably just wants to collect all my belongings so she can sell them at a profit.”

  Charlotte had a point. Maybe Marie did have a gambling problem or other financial motive that made her desperate for cash. I’d have to look into what was going on with her.

  Charlotte and I marched over to the front window to spy on Marie as she stomped down the sidewalk toward her car. I was still trying to figure out why she had come into the shop. Something about her request just didn’t make sense.

  Without warning, she whipped around and stared back toward the window.

  Charlotte and I ducked back. I hid behind a mannequin and Charlotte swooped over beside me.

  “I don’t think you have to worry that she’ll see you,” I said.

  Charlotte grinned. “Oh yeah. I forgot.”

  I eased back to the window and peered out. Charlotte followed.

  Marie climbed into her Mercedes and pulled away from the curb. She drove by slowly, her attention on me the entire time. If she wasn’t careful, she’d smash into the car in front of her. The expression on her face sent a shiver down my spine. Apparently, she wasn’t pleased when she didn’t get her way.

  She could flash scary stares my way all she wanted, but I wouldn’t give in to her request to purchase the clothing.

  Marie’s wasn’t the only car I recognized driving down Main Street. Soon after her car passed, I noticed that Detective Valentine was following her. At least, it appeared that he was following her. I got the impression that his presence wasn’t a coincidence.

  He noticed me at the window. He must have noticed that Marie was watching my store. Did he know that she’d been in my shop? Was he really targeting Marie? Or was I the object of his surveillance? Did that mean I was a suspect? I was probably putting too much thought into the incident. He just happened to be on his way back to the police station, right? “That was strange. Was it just a coincidence?”

  Charlotte smoothed her hair off her forehead. “I don’t know if anything is a coincidence, any-more.”

  I was beginning to wonder the same thing as both cars moved out of sight. After a few seconds, I asked Charlotte, “What are you thinking?”

  She tapped her index finger against her chin. “You know, there’s something on the edge of my memory and I can’t figure out what. It has to do with Marie. I know that much. I just feel like there’s something I should remember, but I don’t know what.”

  “Maybe if you think really hard it will come back to you,” I said as I turned my attention out the window again.

  “I’m blank,” Charlotte said.

  “Well, I have no idea how the mind works once you’re dead—why some of the memories are gone—but trust me, I forget things all the time. The thought usually comes back to me and I’m sure it will happen to you, too.”

  Charlotte frowned. “I suppose you’re right. You’d think just seeing Marie’s face would spark my mind and it would come back to me, though.” Charlotte’s voice sounded a little dejected.

  I faced her again. “What can you tell me about Marie, Charlotte? I know that she was your partner and that she annoyed you a lot, but why did you become partners with her in the first place?”

  Charlotte settled into the velvet settee. “Marie is a complicated person. I guess I’ve never really figured her out. She was really good with business and was great with other professionals. She really knows how to turn on the charm when she’s talking to people.”

  “You’re kidding. Marie doesn’t seem very personable, although she does have that certain way of batting her eyelashes while flashing a sweet smile.”

  “Yes, exactly.” Charlotte used her index finger as the exclamation point for the sentence. “I don’t know how she does it. I guess it just comes naturally. Like the way you have a knack at finding vintage clothing.”

  I smiled, surprised that she had paid me a compliment.

  Charlotte perked up. “Oh, there is one story that Marie never likes for me to share.”

  I quirked a brow. “What’s that?”

  “As I said, Marie is strange and more than a little stuffy, but she has a keen business sense. So when she asked to be my partner, I thought it would be a good idea. She’s also absentminded. One time we were in a shoe store trying on these fabulous heels and she left the store wearing her black heel on the left foot and the bright red heel from the store on her right foot.”

  I frowned. “I think I know where this story is going.”

  “Well, needless to say she was embarrassed that she’d made such a fashion faux pas in public.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Marie had to go back into the place to get her shoe.”

  “Are you serious? I can imagine she wasn’t happy with herself after that. What did you do?”

  “I laughed, of course. That didn’t make her happy, either.”

  Charlotte and I were still talking when Heather walked into the shop.

  “Hey, guys. What’s going on now?” Heather looked in the general direction where she thought Charlotte was standing. “Since you were talking to thin air I assume Charlotte is next to you?”

  I tilted my head in Charlotte’s direction. “She’s here.”

  Where else would Charlotte be now that she’d attached herself to me? It was like having a shadow twenty-four hours a day, and it didn’t look as if she was going anywhere anytime soon.

  “We were just watching Marie as she drove past. She’s not happy with me.” I gestured toward the street.

  Heather reached down and patted the cat’s head. “Oh, you mean Marie Vance? She was in my shop earlier.”

  My eyes widened. “Really?”

  “Yeah, it’s weird. She wanted me to do a reading.”

  I exchanged a look with Charlotte. “Are you serious? Did you do it?”

  “Well, yes, but . . . well, you know that I can’t really give her a reading. I just gave her general information.”

  “What did you tell her?” I asked.

  “Oh, just the usual stuff. Luck would be coming her way, blah, blah, blah. She asked me one curious question, though.” Heather flashed a grin.

  “Yeah? What’s that?” I asked.

  “She wanted to know if I believe in ghosts.”

  Chapter 12

  Heather’s Heartfelt Tip for Getting Rid of an Unwanted Ghost

  Ghosts sometimes have unfinished business

  here on earth. That’s why they hang around.

  Help them write a letter or send an e-mail

  and that should tie up any loose ends.

  “Do you think Marie saw you?” I asked Charlotte.

  Charlotte paced the length of the floor. “If she did she didn’t let on. She probably is just curious about the paranormal.”

  A customer entered and interrupted our conversation. She removed her big black sunglasses, placed them on top of her head, and smiled. Her black sleeveless silk blouse had black beading around the scooped neckline, her black silk-blend pants flared at the leg.

  “Welcome to It’s Vintage, Y’all. May I help you find something?” I asked with a smile.

  She pushed her auburn bangs out of her eyes. “I’m just looking. Thanks.”

  “I’ll see you in a few,” Heather whispered as she backed out of the shop.

  Charlotte followed the customer around the shop as if she thought the woman would steal something. The woman kept glancing over her shoulder.

  I guessed she must have sensed Charlotte’s presence and I motioned for Charlotte to move along.

  The woman glanced my way at that exact moment and placed the gold art deco necklace
back on the table. “Is everything all right?”

  I put on my best professional face, ignoring Charlotte as I walked past her. “Yes, um, yes, everything is fine. May I help you find something? Is there a specific piece you’re looking for?”

  Charlotte claimed that she wanted to help me attract more customers, but if she kept this up she would have the opposite effect.

  The woman stared at me as if she was contemplating whether to actually allow me to help her or to run out of my shop.

  I was thankful when she said, “I’m looking for a skirt.”

  “Great! Do you have a particular style in mind?”

  “Tell her to get a mini skirt,” Charlotte said with a smile.

  I didn’t dare look at her. I was afraid I’d answer her, and the customer would think I was talking to an imaginary friend.

  “I’d like something just below the knee with a pattern. Oh, and muted colors, too,” she added.

  “Is this for a special occasion?” I asked.

  The woman touched a navy blue dress on the nearby display. “I just want something new . . . well, new for me.”

  “I think I have just the thing,” I said as I hurried across the room.

  Wind Song watched me, but she seemed bored.

  I grouped the clothing by era, then divided into skirts, blouses, pants, dresses, and such. Organizing had always been one of my favorite things. I’d filed everything in my parents’ house in alphabetical order, right down to my mother’s herbs and spices. After taking a skirt from the sixties rack, I ran back over to my customer.

  “That color won’t look good on her,” Charlotte said.

  Obviously, she was wrong on that one. I knew the teal-colored A-line skirt with taupe and white flowers would be perfect for the woman. I held the skirt up for her to inspect.

  “It’s perfect,” she said, grabbing it from my hands.

  I pulled back the dressing room curtain and waited for her to enter. The space had a large mirror on the back wall and a white upholstered bench to the right. Plush white carpet cushioned my customers’ bare feet as they tried on clothing.

  The front door opened and a man with salt-and-pepper hair made eye contact. He wore brown slacks with a light beige button-up shirt. “Is that your Buick?” he asked with enthusiasm.

  I stood a little straighter. “Yes, she’s mine.”

  He peered out the window. “Is it all original?”

  “Yes. It was my grandfather’s car.”

  “How many ponies you got under the hood?”

  “It’s an eight cylinder straight-line,” I said with confidence. My grandfather had taught me all there was to know about the Buick. I loved talking about my vintage car. It captured the attention of a lot of men. It gave them something to admire while their wives shopped in my store.

  “Mind if I take a closer look?” he asked.

  “No, not at all.” It would give his wife plenty of shopping time.

  Charlotte paced outside the dressing room while the woman tried on the skirt.

  I found a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar and handed it to the shopper. I refused to speak with Charlotte again until the woman was out of the store. It was just too risky—too risky that everyone would think I was bonkers.

  Smiling, the customer emerged from the small room and carried the skirt and blouse to the counter. When she looked down to retrieve cash from her purse, I winked at Charlotte. Fortunately, the woman was clueless as to what was happening around her. She paid for her items and walked out with a bounce in her step.

  I always loved to see how a vintage clothing purchase could lift a person’s spirits. “See, a happy customer.”

  “You got lucky,” Charlotte said.

  Wind Song meowed as if in agreement.

  What did they know?

  Chapter 13

  Cookie’s Savvy Vintage Fashion Shopping Tip

  Don’t be afraid to tailor a vintage item to fit you.

  Ill-fitting clothing will take away beauty from the piece.

  A couple hours passed while I checked my inventory for loose or missing buttons and did a few minor repairs. Around four o’clock I set my work aside and pulled out a pad of paper. Charlotte and Wind Song appeared to be dozing by the windows.

  I took a seat and positioned the pen over the paper. I wasn’t sure how to wake a ghost, so I just started talking. “Okay, Charlotte, I’m ready. Who is on your list of people who may have offed you? We have to get started if you want my help.”

  She sat up with a start. “I don’t have anyone to put down on the list. Everyone loves me.”

  I pointed the pen at her. “I doubt that seriously. Everyone has someone who doesn’t like them. It’s inevitable . . . just human nature. That’s just the way it works.”

  Charlotte paced a few steps before stopping next to me. “Fine. I’ll give you a list, but I’m just making up things because I really don’t think there’s anyone.”

  “Okay. I guess it’s a start.”

  Charlotte placed her hand on the counter, released a deep breath, and jabbed my paper with a pearly pink fingernail. “I guess the first person you can put down is Marie. She’s as crazy as a sprayed cockroach. I wouldn’t put it past her to have some grievances with me.”

  “But is she capable of murder?” I asked.

  “No, I doubt it. She’s all talk. She’s not that crazy.”

  I scribbled a few notes. “Okay, who’s next?”

  Charlotte dipped her head. “I shouldn’t say this, but write down Bud Butler. Although we hadn’t dated that long, he seemed really nice and I thought he cared about me. He would never do something like that. He was never a violent person and he never had a harsh word for me.”

  “It sounds like you had a great relationship,” I said.

  “Well, he had his issues, but nobody can be perfect, right?”

  I jotted more notes. “We’re getting somewhere, I guess. Is there anyone else to put on your list?”

  She marched back and forth in front of the counter. “This is crazy and I don’t think we should continue.”

  “We have to go on, Charlotte. Come on, think hard. There has to be someone else to put on the list. If I can’t talk to anyone, how will we get any idea of who may have done this to you? Just because they’re on your list doesn’t mean that they had anything to do with your death. It’s just someone for me to talk to.”

  She leaned over and peeked at my list. “Well, that makes a little more sense. Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

  “I thought it would be obvious.”

  “I guess Cindy Johnson wasn’t happy with me. I mean, after all, I told her I would give money to her charity and then I pulled out at the last minute.”

  “Can you blame her for being mad?”

  “More important, can you blame me for not giving the money? I had to know that it was going for the women and children who needed it, and not being used for something that it shouldn’t be, right?”

  I tapped the pen against the pad. “Of course. I understand your reasoning, but maybe she didn’t.”

  “I didn’t know Cindy well outside of business, but I don’t think she is capable of murder,” Charlotte said.

  “Is there anyone else other than Cindy, Bud, and Marie? That’s only three people.” Leaving my pen and paper on the counter, I adjusted the curtains against the slanting rays of the late-afternoon sun.

  “That’s all that I’m aware of.” Charlotte stood a little straighter, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I just can’t think of anyone else.”

  “Well, three is not enough. That’s not going to work.” I tried to show compassion for Charlotte’s plight, but I had to ask questions of more than three people.

  Wind Song batted her paw against the tiny gray and white mouse toy that I’d bought her.

  “Isn’t that the whole reason that we made a list anyway? So that you can talk to people? No matter if it’s just one person, that’s better than nothing,
” Charlotte said.

  “Who was in your will?” I asked.

  Charlotte stopped in her tracks. “Why do you ask?”

  “I’ve seen things like this happen before. When someone thinks they’re getting the money and then they don’t, they get mad.”

  “Where did you see something like that before?”

  “In the movies.”

  “Well, this isn’t the movies,” Charlotte said.

  “Yeah, but you know life is stranger than fiction. It’s happened before. Maybe that was the case this time. So tell me who you left everything to and we can narrow it down from there.” I positioned the pen on the paper again.

  Charlotte inched a little closer. “I left my belongings and other assets to various charities. I had no family, so I had no one else to leave them to. I didn’t have any really close friends, after your grandmother passed on.”

  I tapped my pen on my bottom lip while I thought. “You know, maybe someone within the charities was mad that you didn’t leave all the money to them. You split it up between the charities.”

  “So they’re mad that I gave them money? How thoughtless of me.”

  “You know what I mean. They might have wanted it all, so they got mad at you when you gave some to other people,” I said.

  She tapped the edge of the paper. “I guess that’s possible. Go ahead and write down the various charities that I left everything to.”

  I wrote down the list as she rattled them off one by one.

  Charlotte rounded the corner of the counter, distancing herself from the list. “Okay, I’m done. I can’t think of anyone else. If you can’t figure out something from that list, I don’t know what to say.”

  The door jingled as Heather marched in with her Ouija board tucked under her arm. She smiled, trying to act casual.

  “What are you doing with that thing?” I pointed.

  Heather placed the Ouija board onto the counter. “Now just hear me out. This whole thing with Charlotte is huge. You’ve unleashed a psychic talent you didn’t even know you had. I think you need to speak with other spirits.” She positioned the planchette on top and pushed the Ouija board toward me.