Holy evil stepson.
I was right. I had known it.
Vera didn’t have a dog so there was absolutely no reason for Stanley to have been out on her patio.
Unless he had killed her.
“Figured it out, didn’t you?” a voice came from behind me, sounding amused.
I whirled around, clutching the cuff link in my palm
It was Stanley, wielding a very large and dangerous knife.
A knife? The composer was standing there like the chef at a carving station on a cruise.
All satisfaction at having solved who the killer was evaporated because I hadn’t seen that one coming.
Thirteen
“What are you doing here?” I said, trying to sound cool, calm, and collected. I cursed my fair skin for giving away my fear. I could tell my cheeks were beet red.
“Nice try,” he said. “I know you spoke to my father. We haven’t always been close but I keep close tabs on him now.”
“So you’ve spoken to him recently?” I said, which was obvious. I was starting to shiver, despite my coat still being on. I was in socks on wet stone and Stanley was in the doorway blocking my entrance. Not smart.
“I speak to him every day. It’s a bit painful sometimes but I have to keep up the idea that we’ve mended fences and everything is great. That he wasn’t a negligent asshole of a father.”
Stanley was dressed in lounge pants and a knit sweater. Even though I was transfixed by the giant knife in his hand, I realized he was also in socks, not shoes. Where the hell had he come from?
Then it all clicked. “You’ve been staying here, haven’t you? I called the Ritz and they said you were never registered there.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You called the Ritz? Clever girl. I didn’t expect that from you.”
“I’m starting to learn the criminal mind,” I told him, hoping he would think I was as badass as I was clever.
“Then you know that I’m out of money. That should be pretty obvious.”
Should be. I had to admit to myself I was about a beat behind since I should have realized the second he wasn’t at the Ritz what the truth was. Then again, his father was eighty-eight. It was fair to conclude he was confused. “Very obvious,” I said, going for brazen. “Though I have to admit it wasn’t at first meet. It was only after I spoke to your father that the pieces fell into place.”
I wish I had the ability to record what Stanley was saying but there was no way I could pull my phone out without him knowing what I was doing. I was also afraid to make any sudden moves. I did stick my hand in my pocket, fishing around for my phone.
His eyes followed my movement. “Going for your phone? Forget it, Red. Hands where I can see them.”
It occurred to me he didn’t realize my mother was with me. He must not have heard us come in together. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Sure, backup was handy but not if my mother had no clue we were in danger and hello, she’d just had a heart attack. A shock like seeing her daughter murdered would most likely kill her.
Pulling my hand back out, I said, “Calm down. I’m just cold.”
“You made my father suspicious, you know. This would have all been as easy as taking candy from a baby. Make sure Vera is dead first, so I get the entirety of my father’s estate when he dies. Can you believe my father is still carrying a torch for Vera after all these years? He left a million bucks to her in his will! That’s my money. If she was dead when he dies, I get everything.”
That’s when I knew he was for sure planning to kill me because hello, he had just confessed everything to me. Though maybe he didn’t think it would matter. That it was the perfect crime. Jake and Ryan had been right—it had always been all about the money.
“Your father seemed quite fond of Vera.”
“She took him for a ride in the sixties and she was still taking him for a ride. I need that money. My father doesn’t have that much left. Giving that kind of cash to an old lady, who is just going to croak, meaning her dumbass niece and nephew will get the money, makes no sense whatsoever.”
That was fair in that I could see it might be frustrating to know fringe relatives by marriage would get your father’s money, but that didn’t mean you go and kill an old lady. Geez Louise. I eyeballed the knife, which had slackened in his grip.
“Plus, with everything rightly restored to me with Vera dying, I would also get whatever Vera would leave me. I had no idea if I was even in her will, though I thought it was possible. Let’s be clear. It’s not like I wanted to kill Vera– that was never the point, but once I realized she left me five grand I wasn’t mad at myself for doing her in. I mean, that was just rude. Either cut me out or give me something that matters. Five thousand bucks was just a slap in the face. That won’t even pay my liquor bill.”
What the hell was he drinking? I don’t think I’d spent a thousand dollars on alcohol in the entirety of my life, let alone five thousand. Then again, I’m generally okay with box wine, don’t tell my mother.
“I’m sure she didn’t mean it as an insult.”
His face turned red and his hand shook as he waved the knife around, gripping it tightly again. My shoulders tensed.
“She had no family except for Dumb and Dumber, Eva and Steven. Way to make it clear I wasn’t family after all. I wasn’t singled out in any way. It was absolutely an insult.”
“I’m sorry.” I could see that might be hurtful but for the record, he hadn’t known that when he shoved her into a snow pile. Clearly Vera had sensed his love wasn’t exactly unconditional. “For what it’s worth, I like you, Stanley.”
“I like you, Stanley,” he mocked, moving his head back and forth and speaking in a high-pitched voice.
For a guy who had hinted at being bullied he was making it very difficult to feel any sort of compassion.
“But even worse was that she left Devin the same measly five grand. I honestly never knew what a complete bitch she could be.” He tilted his head. “Well. That’s not entirely true. I knew she was a selfish, vain bitch, but I never cared because she liked me. But apparently not as much as I thought she did.”
My teeth were chattering now, but at least it was in the thirties today. I could tough out a few more minutes. “Who is Devin to you?”
“Devin is Vera’s son that she gave up for adoption. He’s also my on-again, off-again lover.”
“Vera has a son?” I asked, astonished. My mother’s flippant comment was right.
“Yes, she got knocked up in the early seventies, or maybe late sixties, I’m foggy on the details. Some Cuban guy when she was partying in Miami Beach with Frank Sinatra’s crowd. He was her valet guy.”
That was full-service parking, geez. “But… how does Devin know Vera?”
“Since she was an advanced age for giving birth, the adoptive parents insisting on knowing her name. Devin looked her up around ten years ago and she was mildly intrigued by him. She introduced us and we would see each other whenever I was in town.”
“Why aren’t you staying with Devin?”
“Oh, honey, please. I need my space.”
“Was Devin following me? Did he punch me?”
Stanley clucked a little. “Yes. Sorry about that. I asked him to keep an eye on you since you were asking so many questions. But he panicked that you recognized him and swung. Not a quick thinker.”
I shifted a little on the balls of my feet. I was getting concerned my socks would freeze to the patio. “So what’s the plan here, Stanley? Why do you have a knife in your hand?” That was something I had learned, but rarely implemented, from my mother. Cut to the chase. Put someone on the spot so you regain some control.
“I could let you go and assume you’ll keep your mouth shut.”
“Yes, let’s do that.”
“But what I think makes more sense is for me to kill you.”
Bad plan. “Here, at Vera’s? That doesn’t seem wise. Knives are very bloody. Besides, your DNA has to be all over this place
since you’ve been squatting here.”
“I’m not going to stab you. Do I look like the Black Dahlia? That sounds messy and frankly disturbing, given that I’m new to murder.”
I was starting to fear that my mother had been killed by Stanley before he had appeared at the patio door. Where the hell was she? I would never forgive myself if my insistence on her seeing Vera’s condo wound up killing her.
“No knife is reassuring to me. Am I going to freeze to death too?”
“Vera was drugged by me first, then shoved outside at night with no cell phone. I don’t think that applies here since you’re able-bodied and have your wits about you.”
“In theory.”
He laughed. “This is a shame. I really do enjoy your company. Hand me your phone.”
Begrudgingly, I pulled it out of my pocket. I was going to have to rush him. There was no other option. Or run. Given the knife situation I opted for run. I threw my phone, hitting him in the face, and took off to the neighbor’s back door. I pounded on it frantically, but realized even if the neighbor heard me, Stanley was mere feet away. I kept running until I reached the very end of the row of townhomes, and darted around the side of the units. I would have thought he would catch me given I was in socks, but then I realized he wasn’t even chasing me anymore.
Crap. He was going to cut through the house.
But I had my car keys in my pocket. I didn’t have my mother, but I had my keys and if he was coming out the front door, at least he was away from her. I spotted him in the doorway looking left and right. When he was searching in the opposite direction, I scooted to the back of my car and in a painful squat position shifted myself along the driver’s side of the car. I opened the door and jumped in, clicking the lock button. I could hear him yelling profanities at me.
I turned the engine on as he ran down the walkway and tried to open my door. He banged on the glass.
“Get away from me!” I yelled. I didn’t have my phone so I couldn’t call the cops. I couldn’t leave without my mother. This was awkward. He looked very menacing with that knife in his hand.
“It looks like you have everything under control,” Ryan said, appearing in the passenger seat. “Not.”
“I don’t need you running commentary.”
“Drop the knife and step away from my daughter,” my mother said, standing in the walkway pointing a gun at Stanley.
He dropped the knife, startled. “Holy hell. Don’t point that thing at me!”
“Get in the house,” she said, moving slowly, her grip steady.
“Your mother is cooler than you,” Ryan said.
She kind of was. But I have a good personality. “Shut up.”
Stanley wasn’t as smart as he appeared to be. He took off running down the driveway. My mother fired the gun into the air. He screamed and dropped to the ground, blubbering and crying.
“Oh for chrissake,” she said, gun in one hand and phone in the other. “Drama queen.”
I shoved open the car door and jumped on Stanley’s back. He let out another scream and tried to buck me off but I used my thighs to clamp on. It was like bull riding. If bulls wore cashmere sweaters and squealed like a pig. I tied his wrists together with my scarf, just to ensure he couldn’t easily escape. Then I grabbed the knife and threw it in the backseat of my car. The child locks were on so Stanley would have to go through the front and climb into the back to retrieve it and I didn’t see that happening.
Just to be on the safe side though, I called my mother over frantically. “Get in until the cops get here.”
She looked thoroughly unperturbed for a woman who’d recently had a heart attack.
Mom got in and frowned when she sat on Ryan, like she felt something.
“Dude, your mom is sitting in my lap. This is so freaky.”
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I heard half of what that idiot was saying. Who kills an old woman like that? The bastard. God, it’s a shame I won’t be assigned this case when it comes to trial. I want to nail him to the wall.”
“Do you always carry a gun?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.
“Real estate is sketchy, Bailey. I like to be prepared.”
I peeked out to make sure Stanley was still there. He was gone, Michael Myers style.
I turned around and didn’t see anything. When I turned back, he was staring at me. “Ack!” I shouted, before I could stop myself. Then I rolled down the window and slapped him. Vera style. Like was written about in the letters. “How dare you,” I said, and I felt bold. Confident.
“Atta girl,” Vera told me from the back seat.
I rolled the window back up and turned to her. I gave her a wink. “That was for Vera.”
“Your monthly quota stands at one,” Ryan said, pretending to wrap his arms around my mother from behind, which was profoundly disturbing.
“Don’t do that,” I snapped before I could stop myself.
He just shrugged. “It’s a ghost’s life, what can I say?”
“Bailey, roll the window back up. I don’t want to have to shoot him. He seems to have undone his scarf restraints.”
He had. Stanley was running back into the house, probably for his phone to call a car service, when the cops pulled in. My mother got out to speak to them and I let her.
I turned the heat on in my car to warm my feet up. “I should have hit him with my car,” I told Ryan.
“Nah. You don’t want that on your conscience.”
Fourteen
“Are we doing this?” I asked Jake, raising my glass of wine to my lips.
“Yeah, why not? We could use a vacation, especially since you had Stanley pull a knife on you.”
“That was a rough day,” I admitted. “Mom was so difficult, and then there was Stanley, confessing to murder.”
Grandma was having dinner with my father, who was back from his golf trip with Judy. Jake and I had just eaten sea bass, inspired by Alyssa, who had posted eight photos of her dinner triumph on Instagram.
“I can’t believe that guy,” Jake said, shaking his head. “After he told you that Vera was so supportive of him as a teenager.”
“Right? Talk about the worst payback ever. At least Devin confessed immediately to assaulting me.”
“Total wimp. He rolled under ten minutes of interrogation.”
“At least he didn’t kill anyone.”
“He hit you though. Not exactly a Boy Scout. He’s lucky they didn’t leave me alone in the room with him.” Jake’s nostrils flared just talking about me getting hit.
I sipped my wine and decided to change the subject back to sunshine and sex with no elderly women in the house. “Hit the button. Buy the plane tickets.”
“Why don’t you do it?”
“I’m scared. I haven’t taken a vacation in forever.”
“Me either.” His finger hovered over the button. “You’re sure?”
I pictured salsa dancing with Jake (though neither one of us salsa danced), fruity cocktails, the Hemingway house, and key lime pie. “I’m positive.”
He hit the button and the processing notice came up. Then the notice that we were booked on a flight.
“That’s it. We have a flight and they have our money. We’re going to Key West in four weeks.” Jake grinned at me and sipped his whiskey. “That feels like freedom right there, baby.”
“It does, doesn’t it? No more winter. No more parents. No more ghosts.” The idea was exhilarating. “I need a bathing suit.”
“Bikini, please. If I can make a request.”
“We’ll see.” I was more a one-piece kind of girl. I was picturing something retro inspired, me frolicking in the pool, riding a swan float.
“I just had a thought,” Jake said. “Isn’t Key West one of the most haunted cities in the US?”
My fantasy came screeching to a halt. “What? Are you serious?”
He nodded. “I think so.”
I grabbed the computer and did a search on top ha
unted cities in the country. New Orleans. Savannah. St. Augustine. Key West.
“Holy crap, that is not good.”
Jake gave that familiar shrug. “It won’t be a big deal. It will be fun.”
Sure. As fun as when the boys shot spitballs onto me the whole bus ride home in the fifth grade.
I chugged the rest of my wine. “Better ghosts with sunshine than ghosts with snow.”
“Bright side, babe. That’s what I love about you.”
More like neurotic, but he could believe whatever he wanted about me, as long as it was positive. “I guess I better finish my book about learning to be a medium.”
“Maybe we should make flash cards and I’ll quiz you.”
That made me grin. “Not a bad idea.”
“I told you, all my ideas are good ones.”
I slapped the laptop lid shut and slid closer to him. “They truly are.”
The front door opened. “We’re back,” my father shouted in a booming voice.
Jake sighed.
Ryan appeared behind him. Grandma shuffled into the kitchen. “We’re not interrupting, are we?”
“Not at all,” Jake said.
“Four weeks,” I whispered to him.
Ghosts or not, we were going to Key West and there was a lounge chair with my name on it.
Especially since Margaret was now standing next to Ryan, waving enthusiastically at me.
A day in the life of the world’s crappiest medium.
That’s me.
Thank you for reading It’s a Ghost’s Life! Coming soon… Bailey’s adventures in Key West with her skeptical boyfriend Marner in GHOSTS LIKE IT HOT.
About the Author
USA Today and New York Times Bestselling author Erin McCarthy sold her first book in 2002 and has since written over seventy novels and novellas in teen fiction, romance, and mysteries. Erin has a special weakness for tattoos, high-heeled boots, bagpipes, Frank Sinatra, and martinis. She lives with her husband and their blended family of kids and rescue dogs.
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