The Ghost Detective Books 1-3 Special Boxed Edition: Three Fun Cozy Mysteries With Bonus Holiday Story (The Ghost Detective Collection)

by Jane Hinchey

  She was tapping teal painted nails against her chin in response to Galloway’s question about the painting. “You know, Keagan did bring a painting in for restoration,” she said.

  “Can we see it?” I asked.

  “It’s not here.”

  “Didn’t you just say Keagan brought it in for restoration?” Galloway frowned.

  She nodded. “He did. But then he took it. Maybe to his home studio? I don’t really know. Paintings are his thing, I’m more into sculpture.”

  “Did you see the painting at all? Can you describe it?” Galloway asked. I opened my mouth to tell him I knew it was of a woman playing the piano but then clamped my lips shut, remembering what Ben had once advised. Let the subject you’re interviewing tell the story, don’t feed it to them.

  “Oh, I can do one better. I snapped a photo of it.” She glanced around as if afraid of being overheard and added in a hushed voice. “Don’t tell Keagan. He was real protective of that painting, didn’t want any of us going near it.”

  I glanced at Galloway, who returned my look with a raised brow. Odd that he’d be protective over an amateurish, worthless, painting. “He said he didn’t want the public seeing it and thinking that was the standard of art we displayed here.” Abigail continued. “He said it was a shame it was ever discovered, and it would be better to throw it straight in a skip rather than spend any time on it.”

  I felt the corners of my mouth turn down. For a minute there, I thought we might have been on to something, but it made sense. Keagan wanted to keep a certain standard of quality for his studio, he wouldn’t want something of poor quality on display. Abigail pulled her phone out of her pants pocket, flicked through the screen, and then held it out to us.

  Yep. A period painting of a woman playing the piano, another woman standing by the piano singing, and a man sitting enjoying the concert they were entertaining him with. I was a little puzzled. The painting didn’t look too bad to me. The way everyone had been referring to it, I’d expected the scratching of a three-year-old.

  “Could you send me a copy of that?” Galloway asked.

  “Sure. I’ll airdrop it.” She glanced around. “Just… don’t tell Keagan, okay? As I said, he’s real protective of it. He wouldn’t like that I took a photo of it.”

  Ben, who’d taken a look at the picture on Abigail’s phone, then disappeared through a door marked ‘Studio—Private,’ returned. “She’s right. It’s not here.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled at Abigail, then followed Galloway out of the gallery. “What do you think?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I’m no art expert, but I’ll see what we can find out about the painting.” He glanced at his watch, then placed his hand on my lower back, guiding me to his car. “I got a message while we were talking to Abigail that the financials are in for the Finley’s.”

  “Soooo… back to the station?”

  “Nah. I can log in from your place. You can do your thing, and I’ll mow the lawn.” Be still my beating heart! Not only did he trust me to work the case with him, but he was prepared to do manual labor for me? I could hear my sister Laura’s voice in my head. “He’s a keeper!” I couldn’t help but agree. Things were shaping up nicely with Captain Cowboy Hot Pants. My chest tightened, and I wasn’t sure if it was the stirrings of love or utter panic. Yes, I had feelings for Galloway. Strong ones. And the stronger they got, the more terrified I felt. It was almost as if I were holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “If the wind changes, your face will be stuck like that.” Ben elbowed me in the ribs. The cold blast jolted me back to awareness, and I quickly schooled my features, hurrying along behind Galloway grateful he hadn’t seen the panic on my face.

  Back home, I settled into the office, while Galloway headed outside, Thor and Ben hot on his heels. I was grateful for the distraction of not thinking about my future with Galloway and what it might hold. Or not.

  The hours ticked by while I delved into the spreadsheets uploaded to the Firefly Bay Police Department servers. One thing was adding up, and it wasn’t the numbers. I was frowning at the screen, tapping the pencil I’d been using to scribble notes when Galloway appeared in the doorway.

  “I have no idea what your cat has been telling me,” he said, “but it was a very long and apparently detailed story.”

  “Hmmm?” I glanced up, then back at the monitor before doing a double-take back at Galloway. He’d stripped off his shirt, and the glisten of sweat mixed with male pheromones had me practically drooling. Thor chose that moment to wind his way around Galloway’s ankles before jumping up onto the corner of the desk.

  “I was telling him about that time I got into a fight with the Persian at number fourteen,” Thor said, accepting the head scratch I gave him with an appreciative purr. I relayed that nugget of information back to Galloway, who chuckled. “Well, I hope you won, Thor.”

  “Of course.” Thor blinked, then yawned.

  “How’s it going with the accounts?” Galloway asked, pushing away from the doorframe where he’d been leaning and coming to stand behind me.

  “Yeah, something’s not right.” I turned my attention back to the spreadsheet in front of me and dropped the pencil, using my finger to point at the entries. Thor immediately swatted the pencil onto the floor.

  “These are all wrong.”

  “What am I looking at?” Galloway leaned closer, the heat of him hot against my back. Distracting. My pulse skittered, and I drew in a shaky breath, forcing myself to focus.

  “This sheet is the supplier invoices for the last six months.” I clicked to move to another tab on the spreadsheet. “And this one is the client invoices.” I clicked once more. “And this is the overall transaction summary, combining incoming and outgoing.”

  “Right. And? You said something’s not right?”

  “Well, first of all, the formulas have been removed. When I go back, prior to six months, all of this was calculated with formulas, so the software was populating profit and loss and all of that automatically. But since here?” I tapped the screen. “It’s manually calculated. And the figures are wrong. Not only that,” I switched back to the supplier tab. “All of these supplier invoices have been overpaid. Only by a few dollars each, but it adds up.”

  “How do you know they’ve been overpaid?”

  Navigating out of the spreadsheet, I opened up a folder that had hundreds of pdf files stored. “These are the originals. I thought I’d double-check a few, just to make sure, and then I’ve gone back over the past month. Every single invoice. Overpaid.”

  “How much are we talking here?”

  “Over ten thousand in the past six months. And that’s just my rough work — I haven’t done a full audit, but as soon as I noticed the discrepancies, I started to make a note of it. You might want to get a forensic accountant to take a look, but…”

  “Someone is stealing from Finley Construction,” Galloway said grimly. I nodded. “And it could only be one person. His bookkeeper, Noreen Bellamy.”

  “Who is also one of our suspects.”

  “We know she had the opportunity. This gives us a motive.” Had Anita caught Noreen stealing from the family business and confronted her about it? Anita hadn’t said anything along those lines, but maybe she’d blocked it out? After all, being murdered was a traumatic experience. Ben had forgotten everything surrounding his death, and the cases he’d been working on. It had made finding his killer challenging, but not impossible.

  Galloway’s phone started to chime. Pulling it from his back pocket, he hit the alarm button. “Time to get ready,” he grinned.

  “Get ready?”

  “For dinner with your family.”

  “But what about Noreen? We need to go and question her!” I protested.

  “It can wait until the morning. She’s not going anywhere.”

  “But she might!” I argued. “What if she does a runner?”

  “She’s not aware that we’re going through the fi
nancials. As far as she’s concerned, she’s gotten away with her skimming activities.”

  My face fell. I’d hoped we could confront Noreen this evening and get out of family dinner. Galloway, guessing where my mind had gone, chuckled and pulled me to my feet. “It’s going to be fine.”

  “You don’t know that.” I pouted. It’s not that my family is bad, far from it. It’s just… the pressure. Both my brother and sister were happily married with offspring. I’m the only single one, and it felt like they were all waiting. Waiting for me to bring someone home. And for the first time ever, I was. Their expectations would be huge, and I was scared I’d cave under pressure and mess things up.

  “I’ve got an idea that will take your mind off things,” Galloway said. Before I could ask him what he scooped me over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold, making me squeal, then swatted my butt as he carried me upstairs.

  “What are you doing?” I panted, each step knocking the wind out of me.

  “Shower.” He replied smugly. We’d taken over the master suite purely for the luxurious bathroom. When I’d first moved into Ben’s house, I’d slept in the guest room downstairs, the same room I’d always stayed in whenever I slept over. I couldn’t bring myself to use the master suite, it was Ben’s domain, and I hadn’t been up to clearing out his personal belongings. Galloway had come to the rescue. He’d sent me out on a wild goose chase, and while I was gone, he’d packed up Ben’s room. The clothes had gone to charity. Personal effects packed into boxes and put in storage. He’d even stripped the bed and bought all new bedding. I’d been incredibly touched and incredibly sad. If it wasn’t for Ben himself telling me to get over myself, I’d probably still be using the guest room downstairs.

  10

  The tightness in my chest that had plagued me all day intensified, and for the life of me, I couldn’t work out why. Taking a sip of wine, I watched Galloway manhandle my nieces and nephew, using them as weights as he lifted them in the air amidst squeals of laughter.

  My sister Laura sidled up to me and nudged me with her elbow, a sly grin on her face. “Finally, caved, eh?”

  I snorted. “Caved? The crafty witch went around me. Direct to the source.”

  Laura laughed. “Our mom can be determined.”

  “What do you mean, can be? She is bull-headed and stubborn.”

  “A lot like someone else I know.” Brad, Laura’s husband, joined us, sliding an arm around his wife’s waist, his palm lingering against her abdomen in an intimate caress before settling on her hip. Then I noticed the clear liquid in Laura’s glass. Not white wine. Water. Or straight vodka. Either was a possibility. I studied my sister’s face, so similar to my own, then pointed a finger at her accusingly.

  “You’re glowing!”

  A hint of color bloomed on her cheeks, and her mouth widened into a smile.

  I dropped my voice to a harsh whisper. “Laura Nicholson… are you pregnant?”

  Her grin was one of pure happiness, and the slight nod confirmed it. I squealed in delight then clapped a hand over my mouth. Throwing my arms around her neck, I hugged her tight. Brad rescued my wine glass before I tipped the contents down her back.

  “We’re announcing after dinner.” She whispered in my ear. “Do you think you can keep our secret until then?”

  I pulled back and eyeballed her. “Are you serious? Of course, I can.”

  My sister-in-law, Amanda, approached in her designer jeans and a silk button-down. Amanda was super-model gorgeous and, despite having a one-year-old and a three-year-old, was always impeccably dressed. “What’s going on?” One perfectly arched brow lifted, her gaze going from me to Laura and back again.

  “Nothing much.” I shrugged. “Laura was just wishing me well for my exam tomorrow.” The lie fell smoothly from my lips, and I marveled at how easily I’d slipped into the role of secret keeper and stretcher of the truth.

  “Is that tomorrow?” Amanda took a sip of her own wine. “That came around fast.”

  “Tell me about it,” I sighed.

  “So once you’re fully qualified? Then what?”

  “What do you mean?” I’d be a fully qualified private investigator. It wasn’t rocket science.

  She tilted her head toward Galloway, who was now rolling on the carpet with the children. “With him. He’ll no longer be your supervisor. You won’t be spending so much time together.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at?” Galloway and I didn’t spend a lot of working hours together, despite him being my official supervisor while I underwent my PI training. We got together a couple of times a week to go over my cases, such as they were, and discuss general PI stuff like stake-outs and lately, firearms. I shuddered at the memory of my recent firearms lesson.

  “How will you manage, Audrey, without him on a day-to-day basis?”

  I stiffened, glanced at Laura, who was looking at Amanda with her mouth hanging open. Even Brad sported a frown, and he was the most easy-going guy around.

  “Hold on.” I straightened to my full five-foot-seven height, which was still two inches shorter than Amanda. However, given the height of her stilettoes, I reckon we’d be on even footing if she ever took the damn things off. “Are you suggesting that Galloway is carrying me? That I’m not capable of being a PI?”

  The funny thing about Amanda is that she mostly means well, it's just the way she says things that come out incredibly insulting. She saw my clumsiness as a huge disadvantage—for me—and was on an eternal quest to try to fix me. It chafed like leather pants on a summer’s day.

  “Yeah, Amanda!” Laura echoed, “just what are you insinuating here? That Audrey doesn’t have what it takes? Because let me tell you, my little sister is ah-maz-ing. She is friggin epic! She is smart, she is brave, she is funny, and she is smart.”

  “You said smart,” I whispered from the side of my mouth.

  “I did?” She glanced at me.

  “Yup.” I nodded.

  “Oh. Okay. Well, yeah, that still stands. She’s doubly smart. And she doesn’t need you or anyone else telling her otherwise.”

  “Hey, hey, hey!” Dustin, my brother and Amanda’s husband, hurried over, no doubt sensing the climbing tension in the room. Hard to miss with both his sisters visibly bristling over yet another thoughtless comment from his wife. “What’s going on over here?”

  “Go ahead, Amanda.” Laura snapped, “tell us what you meant. Because it sure didn’t sound like you were wishing Audrey luck for her exam tomorrow!”

  “Oh, that’s right!” Dustin slapped a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Good luck for tomorrow. You’ll ace it.”

  “Maybe you should tell your wife that,” Laura said snidely, and I bit my lips to hide the grin. Hormonal Laura was fun.

  “I’m sorry.” Amanda apologized, sounding sincere. “That came out wrong.” Surprise, surprise. “I wish you all the best on your exam tomorrow, Audrey.”

  “Thanks.” Wait for it…

  “It’s just—”

  “Babe.” Dustin grabbed Amanda’s elbow and steered her toward where Galloway was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, eyeing us while three toddlers climbed him like a jungle gym. “I’m pretty sure I can smell a dirty diaper.”

  Dustin’s distraction technique worked. Amanda shoved her glass into his hand and scooped up Nathaniel, up-ending him and lifting his butt to her nose where she took a deep sniff, then screwed up her face. I expected her to palm her stinky offspring onto her husband; I mean come on, silk shirts and dirty diapers did not pair well. But to my utter shock, she tucked Nathaniel under one arm, scooped up the diaper bag from beside the sofa in her other hand, and disappeared down the hallway to take care of business.

  “You know she means well,” Dustin said apologetically, watching his wife.

  “I know.” I nodded. And I did. I hadn’t really been sure what Amanda had been getting at, though. Did she think I couldn’t manage the PI business on my own, that I didn’t have the skills or smarts for it? O
r did she mean now that Galloway wouldn’t be my supervisor, our relationship would peter out? I hadn’t missed the edge to her voice when she’d first brought up the subject.

  Laura leaned in and whispered in my ear, “I think she’s jealous.”

  I guffawed. “Of what? Me?”

  “Why not? I meant everything I said. You’re whip-smart, Audrey. And gorgeous. You have a beautiful house and your own business. You have a hot boyfriend. Girl, you’ve got it all going on.”

  “Uh, most of that just fell in my lap.” I protested. “The house and business were Ben’s, and if he hadn’t died, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

  “True. But look at you, honoring his legacy, taking over his business—which I’m sure you’ll be successful at.”

  Ben, who’d been hovering around my mom in the kitchen while she prepared her to die for lasagna, joined us. “I always liked your sister.” He said, catching the tail end of Laura’s speech. I ignored him. My family did not know of my ability to talk to ghosts, and I intended to keep it that way. Can you imagine if Amanda caught wind of it? She’d have me carted away by men in white coats before I could so much as blink. For my own good, of course.

  “But also, I think she’s a wee bit put out by your hot detective,” Laura whispered, nudging me with her elbow, her eyes on Galloway, who was climbing to his feet, Isabelle, Laura’s one-year-old balanced on his hip, while Dustin’s three-year-old, Madeline, hitched a ride on his leg.

  “Hey,” Galloway handed Isabelle over to her father before his grey eyes landed on me, speculation in his gaze. “Need a drink?” He asked.

  Laura barked out a laugh. “See? Perfect.”

  I smiled, ignoring my sister. “Yes, please.” Brad had absconded with my glass, and I suspect he’d downed my drink behind his wife’s back. Knowing Laura, if she had to be alcohol-free during her pregnancy, so did he. Galloway made his way to the kitchen where a bottle of wine sat open on the counter, Madeline still hanging from his leg, giggling as he took her for a ride.