If You've Got It, Haunt It

by Rose Pressey

  “I’ll say it again. I don’t want to go to jail.” My feet were frozen on the spot.

  Charlotte reached for my arm, but her hand passed right through, sending a chill across my skin. “Look, if the alarm goes off, all you have to do is rush out and drive off. You’ll be able to get out of here before the police arrive. It takes them at least three or four minutes.”

  “Oh, really? You make it sound so easy.” My knees shook as I thought about the potential consequences. “Fine. I’ll give it a shot, but I can’t believe you’ve put me in this crazy situation.”

  “I’d do the same for you.” She batted her eyelashes.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Chapter 15

  Cookie’s Savvy Vintage Fashion Shopping Tip

  Check the garment’s fabric for fading,

  pulling, or cracking.

  I opened the door and the alarm made a continuous beeping sound, matching my rapid heartbeat. “Where is the control panel?” I yelled over the noise.

  “It’s right over here by the door, under the portrait of Uncle Jubiliah.” She moved toward the offending sound. “Try to remain calm.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You’re invisible. No one can see you.”

  I rushed over to the wall where the canvas of the baldheaded portly man hung and flipped the cover down on the alarm. The keypad lit up, waiting for me to silence it. My hand shook as I raised my fingers to the pad. “What’s the code?”

  “It’s either four-five-six-zero or four-six-five-zero,” Charlotte said from over my shoulder.

  “You don’t remember the code? Are you kidding me?” My voice had reached an all-time high.

  “Excuse me, but my memory is a little fuzzy now that I’m dead. I’m sure you can understand.” She placed her hands on her hips.

  I punched in the first code that Charlotte had rattled off. The beeping noise continued.

  “It didn’t work, Charlotte,” I said in a panic.

  “Just stay calm. Take a deep breath.” She displayed the palm of her hand in a stop sign motion. “Try five-six-four-zero.”

  I frantically punched the buttons, hoping that I’d get lucky. “I’m going to be joining you in the afterlife soon. The police will arrive and I’ll have a heart attack.” Still the beeping echoed.

  “Okay, try four-zero-six-five,” Charlotte said.

  I clutched my chest. “I can’t breathe.”

  “Just push in the code that I told you. You’re wasting time,” Charlotte demanded.

  I pushed in 4-0-6-5 and the frantic beeping noise stopped. Finally, silence surrounded us. I released a deep breath and tried to steady my speeding heartbeat. In those frantic moments, my life had flashed before my eyes, but I didn’t tell Charlotte. She might have found my comment a tad insensitive.

  “I’m not sure what we’re looking for.” I looked around the massive foyer. The other day, I had been so preoccupied with the sale that I hadn’t paid much attention to the space. Besides the circular staircase and marble floors, intricate wood trim adorned the pale blue colored walls. A large mahogany table with a marble top sat in the middle of the room.

  “You don’t plan things out much, do you?” Charlotte said.

  “So I’m spontaneous. Some people find that endearing.” I eased across the foyer. The galumph of my wedge heels echoed across the space.

  “Well, I’m not one of them. We’ll just go from room to room until we make it through the whole house.”

  “From the looks of the size of your house that could take several days.” I peered up at the grand dark wood staircase. The banisters were intricately carved with a scrolled pattern. Portraits of who I assumed were Charlotte’s ancestors decorated the wall up the stairs.

  “The house isn’t as big as it seems.” Charlotte’s heels made no sound against the marble floor.

  “Didn’t you get lonely in this big place?” I asked.

  Her expression changed. The sassy spunk had faded and was replaced with a melancholy frown. “It wasn’t too bad. Come on.” She motioned over her shoulder.

  I sensed that she didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t press the subject.

  I followed her through the foyer and into the enormous living room. Floor-to-ceiling windows covered the far wall with heavy cream and navy draperies flanking each window. Nothing seemed out of place. However, the room looked like a museum. Sheets covered the sofas and chairs, making the finality of her death seem all too real. Sunlight splashed across the massive crystal chandelier in the middle of the room, causing a prism of colors to dance around the room. The racks of clothing and other personal items from the estate sale had been removed.

  “I’ll look around in those cabinet drawers.” My voice echoed across the mostly empty room.

  Charlotte paced across the hardwood floor while I opened drawers. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that the place was bare.

  “There’s nothing here,” I said, running my hand through my hair.

  Charlotte reached the end of the hallway within seconds. “We’ll go in my bedroom.”

  I followed her down the hall. It felt strange being in this house with her and no other people around. I glanced over my shoulder several times, still expecting to see the police walking toward me with guns drawn. When we reached the end of the hall, she turned to the right.

  She poked her head out the doorway. “In here.”

  Charlotte’s bedroom was massive. Several floor-to-ceiling windows adorned each wall. Gold silk drapes decorated the windows. The only piece of furniture remaining in the room was an enormous mahogany bed.

  A few boxes were stacked in the corner. “Apparently, most of my items have been boxed up or sold,” Charlotte said with a click of her tongue.

  I gave her a pitying smile.

  She stood a little straighter and puffed out her chest. “Well, no matter. It is what it is. I have to suck it up. There’s nothing to be done about it. It’s not like I can come back to life.”

  Unfortunately, she was right.

  I walked over to the boxes and looked in, hoping to find something good, but they were empty. “There’s nothing inside,” I said with a sigh.

  Charlotte tossed her hands up. “This is useless. Let’s go check the kitchen.”

  As I turned to leave, I looked back at the boxes one more time. On the floor beside them was a white handkerchief with tiny pink and green flowers on the trim. I walked over and reached down to pick it up. “Is this yours?” I asked, holding up the handkerchief.

  Charlotte examined the item. “No, I’ve never seen it before. It’s not mine. I have no idea where it came from.”

  “Maybe someone dropped it when they were packing up.” After looking around to make sure I hadn’t missed any other items, I shoved the handkerchief into my pocket and headed down the hallway.

  We had just stepped into the kitchen when the front door clicked and then shut. We exchanged a terrified glance.

  “Someone’s in the house,” Charlotte whispered.

  I rushed around the island to the kitchen’s entrance and peeked out. Detective Valentine was standing in the foyer, peering up at the staircase.

  The breath was sucked out of me as if I’d been punched in the stomach. What would I do? I watched him for just a moment longer than I should have, but luckily, he hadn’t seen me. I was convinced that he had a subtle aura that trapped people into stealing quick glances at him, so technically it wasn’t my fault. I hurried back over to where Charlotte stood by the refrigerator. I had to get out of the house before he saw me.

  Looking around the large kitchen, I spotted the back door and ran toward it. My shoes weren’t helping my escape mission. The wedge heels were slowing down my pace and making a squeaky noise that the detective probably heard all the way in the foyer. It would be just a matter of time until he discovered me.

  Once out the door, I eased it shut, then raced around the side of the house, weaving around the shrubbery and making a beeline for my car. T
he old Buick was like my lifeboat and I was swimming for my life. It was a good thing I’d parked the car at the side of the house, but what if he’d seen it? He’d come after me soon if he had. I’d have to come up with a good story for why I was in Charlotte Meadows’ home.

  I jumped into the car and after fumbling several times, shoved the key into the ignition. Charlotte was already in the passenger seat. Obviously a perk of being a ghost was the fast movements. I flinched as the car’s engine roared to life. Why did it have to be so loud?

  Pulling out of the driveway, I shifted into second gear and zoomed past the detective’s car without looking over to see if he was watching. At the stop sign on the corner, I glanced back to see if flashing lights were informing me to pull over. After a couple minutes with no police in sight, I allowed my breathing to return to normal. I made it all the way back to town without the detective behind me. That was nothing short of a miracle.

  “I can’t believe we got out of there without Detective Valentine knowing you were there,” Charlotte said.

  “Well, we don’t know for sure yet. He could still come after me,” I said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “This is too stressful. I’m not sure I’m all that great at being a sleuth.”

  “Oh, what are you talking about? You’re doing a great job. Well . . . you’re doing as well as can be expected,” Charlotte said.

  I pulled up in front of the shop and jumped out. Heather had already closed her shop for the day. She would freak out when I told her about my near encounter with the detective.

  Just as I knocked on the door, she peeked over the counter. After unlocking the door, she stepped to the side and motioned for me to come in. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she almost shut the door on Charlotte.

  Charlotte scowled as she stepped through the closed door.

  “Charlotte’s with me and you just shut the door in her face.” I bit back laughter.

  A sheepish grin curved Heather’s lips. “Oops. Sorry about that.”

  Heather returned to behind the counter, where I could see she was in the midst of mixing her herbs for spells. Several candles flickered around the shop. The smell of patchouli and musk filled the air. I never knew quite what she did with all the spices. She’d shown me some spells, but they all seemed too complicated for me.

  “What’s up?” She poured some green leaves onto a small scale and adjusted the balance.

  Leaning on the counter, I told her about my close call in Charlotte’s house.

  “Do you think he saw you?”

  I picked up the bottle of herbs on the counter, studied it, and put it back down. “I don’t know. I hope not. Like I said, I took off while he was still in the house, but he could’ve looked out the window. Especially if he heard my car. You know, it’s kind of loud.”

  Heather picked up the bottle I’d just touched and positioned it on the shelf behind her. “It’s definitely loud.”

  “Yeah, well, the car’s old and there’s not much I can do about that. But anyway, I’m worried. What do you think I should do?”

  Heather placed her elbows on the counter. “As long as you got away, I think you are fine.”

  We were interrupted by a comment from Charlotte. “While you two are yammering away, I thought you might like to know that the detective just pulled up in front of the store.” Our ghostly sentinel stood in front of the large front window with her hands on her hips. She didn’t even turn around to look at us as she spoke.

  My stomach dropped. “What? You had better not be playing a joke on us.”

  “What’s going on?” Heather’s eyes were wider than ever.

  “Charlotte said the detective just pulled up in front of your store.”

  Charlotte wiggled her index finger in my direction. “You are in trouble now.”

  “You’re not helping,” I said in a panic.

  I’d made it halfway to the window when I spotted him walking toward the shop’s entrance. Of course I freaked and froze.

  “Well, don’t just stand there. He’ll see you.” Charlotte motioned for me to get away.

  “Twenty-three skidoo,” I said as I ran toward the back of the store.

  Heather ran beside me. “What are you doing?”

  I pushed her toward the front. “Go talk to him. I’m hiding in the back room.”

  “What if he looks back there? I can’t breathe,” Heather said.

  “We’ll worry about that if it happens.”

  As I stood in the back room trying to steady my heavy breathing, I leaned over toward the open doorway and attempted to listen to the conversation. Charlotte had stayed near the windows.

  “May I help you?” Heather asked with a squeaky voice when Detective Valentine entered her shop.

  I hoped she didn’t blow it and tell him I was eavesdropping in the back room.

  “I’m just looking around,” the detective said.

  Oh, that wasn’t good. I hoped he didn’t look around all the way in the back.

  “You have a lot of interesting things,” he said.

  I thought for sure that his voice was closer to me. When I realized I was holding my breath, I released it slowly, trying not to make a noise.

  “Yes, I have books, jewelry, essential oils, and incense.”

  “You’re friends with Cookie Chanel, right?” he asked.

  Uh-oh. This was it.

  “We’re friends,” Heather choked out.

  “I thought I saw her come into your store just now.”

  Should I run out the back door? Maneuvering around a stack of boxes, I hurried over to the back door and pushed. It was locked. I was trapped. With my hand on the door, I pushed again, but felt a hand grasp my shoulder. I gasped and spun around.

  “He’s gone. Were you trying to escape?” Heather asked.

  I clutched my chest. “Yes, I was trying to escape. Wouldn’t you?”

  “That was too close,” Heather said.

  Relief washed over me. I’d avoided the detective, but how long would that last?

  I sank to the floor, giggling uncontrollably.

  Chapter 16

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

  If you have a particularly ornery ghost

  don’t be afraid to sprinkle the holy water around.

  I went back to my shop and picked up the cat—again with no fuss. She was purring as I carried her to my car with Charlotte at my side. Did she know we were going home for the day? Maybe she was tired from her long day at “work”—which she mostly spent napping.

  “You almost got me in trouble by dragging me into your house,” I said to my ghostly sidekick.

  She settled back onto the car’s leather seat as if what I’d just said was no big deal. We drove home in silence, which was welcome to me. After parking, I retrieved Wind Song from the backseat and took her indoors. She meowed as I opened a can of Gourmet Kitty select tuna and herbs in simmered sauce. Watching her dig in, I hoped the pricey chow would satisfy her epicurean tastes.

  After making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I settled onto the sofa with my snack and a glass of milk. Wind Song washed her face and paws, then stretched out to watch me from across the room. I had to admit it was a little strange. Had she really used the Ouija board to communicate? I’d often wondered if animals had the same thought process as humans. Now I couldn’t deny it. I looked at my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Did Wind Song approve of such humble fare?

  After turning on my laptop, I pulled up my e-mail and scanned for any important messages. I hoped there would be good news. I was still waiting for a message from a movie director who was filming a Jazz Age drama in Georgia soon. My fingers were crossed that she would hire me as a wardrobe consultant.

  Seeing a notification for a blog comment, I excitedly clicked on the link. I loved receiving feedback on my blog posts. Most of the time it was from another vintage clothing enthusiast.

  When I read the message, I knew right away that this wasn’t
a fellow vintage fashion lover. Someone going by the username killer had left a threatening comment on my blog.

  I’m watching you, too. Mind your own business or you’ll be next.

  The glass slipped from my hand and bounced once it hit the soft cushion of the rug. Luckily, I’d finished my milk and it was empty. The name surely indicated that this person was probably behind at least one of the recent murders in Sugar Creek.

  Then again, someone could just be playing a joke. I liked that scenario better. The anonymous poster had warned me to stop snooping around. How did this person know what I’d been up to unless they had been watching me? That thought sent a shiver down my spine.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Charlotte chuckled.

  I picked up the glass. “You’re hilarious.”

  “Okay, I’ll be serious. What’s wrong?” She sat beside me on the sofa.

  “Someone left a comment on my blog.” I turned the screen so that she could read it.

  She flashed a worried expression as she read the comment out loud. “You should definitely tell the police.”

  I stared at the message on the screen, wondering who could have sent it. “There’s a problem with going to the police.”

  “What’s that?” Charlotte asked.

  “I can’t let them see this message. They’ll know I’ve been snooping around. And that would put an end to solving your murder. They’d probably put me in jail.”

  Charlotte laid a hand on my forearm. Even though I couldn’t feel it, I appreciated the gesture of comfort. “But you may get hurt . . . or worse, the killer may come after you and do the same thing to you.”

  I closed the laptop. “I’ll be careful, but I always finish what I start. I told you I’d help find the killer and I intend to stick to that.”

  Wind Song jumped up onto the arm of the sofa. She meowed and touched my arm with her paw.

  Did she have another message for me?

  I rubbed her head. “I’m sorry, Wind Song, I don’t have a Ouija board. If you have any advice for me, you’ll have to speak up.” She answered with an emphatic “meow.”