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

by Jane Hinchey

  “We heard the news about Anita Finley,” Dustin said, filling the silence. “You involved in that case?” His question was directed at Galloway, who’d returned with my wine. After handing it over, he stayed close to my side, his warmth comforting.

  “We are,” Galloway said. “But we can’t discuss the details, sorry. It’s an active case.”

  “We?” Laura pounced. “Are you helping?” She asked me, and I nodded before taking a sip of wine. I was getting a nice little buzz happening, and I glanced toward the kitchen, hoping Mom served dinner soon; otherwise, there was a very strong chance I’d end up wasted before the night was through.

  “Anita Finley was already my client,” I said by way of explanation. “So yes, I’m helping the police with their inquiries.”

  “Actually, maybe you guys can help.” Galloway surprised me by saying. Did he want their help? I thought we weren’t meant to discuss the case. Now I was confused. He placed his hand at the small of my back as if to calm my turbulent thoughts. Or reassure me he knew what he was doing. Or maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t keep his hands off me. I liked the latter theory the best.

  “Anita was working at the Kelsh estate and found an artwork. I was wondering if any of you knew anything about art?” He removed his hand to reach for his phone, pulling up the photo the gallery assistant manager had given him.

  “I know a little.” Amanda had reappeared with Nathaniel on her hip. She tossed her long hair over her shoulder, freeing the strands from the toddler’s chubby little fingers. “How can I help?”

  “They found this painting at the Kelsh estate. Do you recognize it?” He held the phone up so everyone could see. Laura and Brad squinted at it and shook their heads. Dustin cocked his head. “It looks vaguely familiar.” But Amanda? Amanda froze, the color draining from her face. She reached out a hand and took the phone from Galloway, pinching the screen with her fingers to enlarge the image.

  “Oh, my God.” She breathed.

  “What? What is it?” Laura, and I said in unison.

  Amanda looked up, shell-shocked. “Do you know what this is?” Her question was directed at Galloway.

  “No. That’s why I asked.” He pointed out. “I’m guessing you recognize it?”

  I looked from Galloway to Amanda and back again, holding my breath.

  “I think this is… The Concert.” She said it like we should all know what that meant. I had no clue. What was The Concert?

  “What’s that when it’s at home?” Laura beat me to it.

  “It’s a famous painting by Johannes Vermeer, painted in sixteen sixty-four.” She breathed, handing the phone back to Galloway. “It went missing in the nineties, stolen in a heist. No one has seen it since.”

  “You’re saying it’s valuable?” Galloway asked.

  “Very.” She handed her son over to Dustin and pulled out her own phone, fingers flying as she Googled the painting. “Yes.” She nodded. “It was stolen in nineteen ninety from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston.”

  “How much is it worth?” Brad asked.

  “According to this article? Two hundred million.”

  “Holy cow!” I choked, looking up at Galloway. He met my look. There is no way Keagan Dunn, an art gallery owner, did not know the painting was the real deal. Yet he’d lied, to everyone, about its value. That gave him not only the opportunity but motive. A massive motive. Two hundred million dollars’ worth of motive. I turned, searching for somewhere to put down my drink. Galloway wrapped his fingers around my wrist, halting me before lowering his lips to my ear. “We are not tearing out of here to go question him.” His breath blew hot against my skin, and I moistened my lips with my tongue to keep from swooning. “It can wait till tomorrow.”

  I looked up at him from beneath my lashes. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.” He lifted his head and directed his next words to Amanda. “Thanks for that, you were very helpful.” Amanda preened at the praise, bestowing him with a proud smile.

  “Dinner’s ready!” Mom called. That settled it. We definitely weren’t going anywhere until after dinner, no way was I going to miss mom’s lasagna.

  11

  Holding my T-shirt away from my body, I tugged until the fabric reached the flowing faucet, scrubbing at the glob of orange sauce. I hadn’t missed Amanda’s rolled eyes when I’d dropped a forkful of Lasagna down my front. I’d warned Galloway this would most likely happen, and he’d looked at me with the most gorgeous smile, eyes sparkling, had cupped my nape, and leaned in real close to say, “You think I don’t know that about you by now, Fitz.” And winked before dropping a kiss on the tip of my nose.

  The entire table had gone silent, watching our exchange. I’d heard both Laura and my mom sigh. Ben, who’d been sitting on the kitchen bench next to the dining room, guffawed. “He’s sealed the deal now, Fitz. Your family loves him.” I wanted to reply, “of course they do!” but instead allowed my own smile to bloom and finally, finally, let myself relax.

  “All good in here?” Laura poked her head into the bathroom, where I was attempting to get the worse of the stain out. I looked down at myself, at my now distinctly wet T-shirt and the orange smear I’d spread across the fabric. I grinned at my sister. “I think I got it all.”

  “Nailed it.” She winked, and we both laughed. She leaned into the bathroom a little further. “Are you almost finished, though?”

  “Oh! Your announcement!” Turning off the faucet, I squeezed as much water as I could out of my shirt, dried my hands on a towel, and ignored the wet, clammy sensation against my stomach and chest as the wet patch slowly spread. “Let’s do this.” Linking my arm with hers, we returned to the dining room.

  Amanda’s eyes zoomed in on the mess I’d made of my shirt, but when she opened her mouth to comment, Dustin elbowed her in the ribs. Her mouth closed with a snap, and I shot my brother a grateful look.

  Brad stood when his wife approached, and I quickly took my seat next to Galloway, squeezing his thigh under the table. He dropped his hand over mine, and we looked toward Brad and Laura, who stood with their arms around each other’s waists and addressed the table.

  “We’re pregnant!” Laura blurted without preamble. There was a moment’s silence, then all hell broke loose. Mom cried, practically tipping her chair over to get to Laura and envelope her in a hug. There were hugs, tears, handshakes, and toasts, and it was wonderful. I couldn’t be happier for my sister, she and Brad deserved all the happiness in the world. And, on a more selfish note, it took the attention away from Galloway and me, my tension eased so much so that when Galloway grabbed my arm and dragged me away to a quiet corner, I was unprepared for what he had to say.

  “I’ve gotta go.”

  “What?” I reared back, eyes scouring his face. Had all this talk of babies freaked him out? Oh the irony, just as I’d relaxed, he’d tensed up.

  He showed me his phone, but I couldn’t make out the stream of messages on the screen. “I put in for a search warrant of Keagan’s home and the gallery.” He told me, keeping his voice low so the others wouldn’t overhear us. “It’s just come through.”

  “I thought you said it could wait?” Then the penny dropped, and I gasped, clutching my throat. “Kade Galloway, did you lie to me?”

  He smirked, an adorable tilting of his upper lip. “Guilty as charged. You can punish me later.”

  “Oh, I intend to.” I glanced over my shoulder at my family, who was gathered around Laura and Brad. “I’m coming with you.”

  “You can’t be involved in the search.” He pointed out.

  “That’s fine. I’ll wait in the car. But you’re not leaving me here on my own. As soon as you’re gone, the attention will turn from Laura and Brad to you and me, and I am so not in the mood for the third degree. Mom is all babies and happily ever after right now.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” He quirked one brow, and I marveled at how he could individually control his eyebrows like that. Whenever I attem
pted it, both of my eyebrows either shot into my hairline or furrowed so deep and low I could barely see. Not to mention my mouth and nose joined in the facial workout. I know this because I’ve spent way too long in front of a mirror practicing.

  “It’s a timing thing.” I skirted around the subject. “Let Brad and Laura have their moment.”

  “Okay. But you have to stay in the car.” Almost giddy with delight that he’d agreed, we made our goodbyes and high-tailed it out of there.

  “What’s up?” Ben asked, joining us.

  “Galloway has a search warrant for Keagan’s place,” I explained as we drove all of ten minutes to Keagan Dunn’s house.

  “Smart.” Ben nodded, leaning in between the front seats.

  “And fast,” I added, hinting that Galloway needed to spill.

  He threw a glance my way while pulling into Keagan’s driveway. “I knew it would take time to get the warrant. Especially on a Sunday night, it’s doubtful the judge is happy we interrupted his evening. I didn’t want you to get yourself worked up when you were meant to be enjoying time with your family, so yeah, I kept it to myself.”

  “But we’re here now, executing the warrant. Not in the morning, like you’d told me. You think he’s a flight risk?”

  “I think he knows he has a two hundred-million-dollar painting in his possession. I also think he has a way he can move that painting, sell it to a collector, without ever getting found out. But now we’re sniffing around. No doubt his assistant manager told him we were in his gallery this morning. What would your next steps be if you were him?”

  “Get the hell out of Dodge. Or at least get rid of the incriminating evidence.”

  “Exactly.” We both looked through the windshield at Keagan’s house. Almost every light was on, pools of light bursting through gaps in the curtains and blinds.

  “He’s packing.”

  Galloway nodded. “I’d say so.”

  “Sooooo…” I looked at him. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Backup. And the warrant.” Just as he said the words, a patrol car pulled in behind us. Galloway opened his door, but before he got out, he turned back to me. “Stay in the car.”

  “I know, I know,” I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest and doing my best not to pout.

  Ben laughed and patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Fitz. I’ll report back to you.” I scowled, even more put out that my ghost friend could go where I could not.

  Galloway closed the door, and I turned in my seat to watch him walk back to the patrol car. Officer Noah Walsh was in the driver’s seat, Sergeant Addison Young in the passenger seat, warrant in hand. I watched as they climbed out of the car, conversed with Galloway for a minute before approaching the front door. Young banged on the door with her fist. “Firefly Bay PD. Open up.” She yelled.

  I watched while Ben walked around the officers and straight through the front door, seconds later sticking his head back through it and calling out to me, “he’s making a run for it—back door.”

  Unable to wind down my window since Galloway had taken the keys, and the windows were electric, I opened the door. Galloway swiveled and glared at me. I jerked my head toward the side gate and mouthed “out the back,” hoping he’d understand that we had some spiritual help. He cocked his head for a second, then realization dawned.

  “Bust it down.” He ordered. “I’ll take the back.” He drew his weapon from the back of his jeans, and darted down the side of the house, vaulting over the gate as if it were nothing. Walsh kicked in the front door, and he and Young stormed inside, weapons drawn, yelling for Keagan and identifying themselves as Police. I sat in the passenger seat, my attention divided between the front of the house where Young and Walsh had just disappeared, and the pathway leading to the rear where the darkness had swallowed Galloway mere seconds ago.

  Minutes ticked by. Minutes that felt like hours. I was on the edge of my seat, peering through the windshield, bursting with curiosity. But I made myself stay put. This was an official police warrant. If I got involved, it could jeopardize the entire case. I knew that. But I didn’t like it.

  Imagine my surprise when the garage door directly in front of Galloway’s car opened. Ducking low, I peered over the dash. Keagan had evaded Galloway and got into his garage. I figured Galloway and the others would hear the garage door as it swung upward, but no-one appeared, and I feared Keagan actually had a shot at getting away.

  Timing was everything. Screwing my eyes tightly closed, I held my breath and listened, heard the pounding of his footsteps as he neared Galloway’s car, and just as he drew level with my door, I swung it open. Hard. There was that satisfying clunk as Keagan ran straight into it, then the oof as he landed on his back on the ground. I sprang out of the car, flipped him onto his stomach, and sat on him.

  “Galloway!” I yelled.

  “Audrey? What the hell?” Galloway came running, skidding to a halt when he saw me perched on Keagan’s back. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Sorry. I know you said to stay in the car, but I couldn’t let him get away.”

  Walsh and Young appeared, then sniggered when they saw me sitting on their perp. “Nice.” Walsh grinned, before stepping forward with his cuffs. “Thanks, Audrey, we’ll take it from here.”

  I hauled myself off of Keagan, stumbling and almost falling flat on my face before catching myself and getting my feet under me. I turned and grinned at Galloway, who, I was pretty sure, was biting back a smile. Maybe. I cocked my head, considering his stony visage. He couldn’t be mad, could he? I’d stopped Keagan from getting away.

  “What happens now? Is he under arrest?” I ignored Galloway and turned my attention to Walsh as he bundled Keagan into the back of the patrol car.

  “Depends on what we find in the house,” Young said, hands on hips. “Walsh, keep an eye on him. You okay to assist me with the search warrant?” She asked Galloway.

  “Certainly.” He replied, looking at me and jerking his thumb toward his car.

  “I know, I know, I’ll wait in the car.” I huffed, traipsing back to the vehicle. I paused to peer at the passenger door, wondering if Keagan had dented it.

  “Fitz?” Galloway stopped me. “Good job.”

  I beamed, but before I could say anything, he continued on. “All the best detective’s have one thing in common—”

  “Plucky sidekick?”

  “Besides that.” He deadpanned.

  “Ethics?” I tried again.

  “Besides that.”

  “I give up. What?”

  “Initiative.” With that, he spun on his heel and followed Sergeant Young inside the house.

  “I don’t get it,” I muttered under my breath as I climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door. Was he mad at me or pleased with me?

  “He meant it as a compliment,” Ben said. I let out a startled shriek then clapped my hand over my mouth, swiveling to look out the back windshield to see Officer Walsh glance my way, but he stayed by the side of the patrol car, arms crossed over his chest while he waited for Galloway and Young to search the house.

  Lowering my voice, I whispered, “how so?”

  “You followed instructions—stay in the car—yet you effectively stopped Dunn from escaping without putting yourself at risk.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, but I…” I trailed off.

  “Did it without thinking?” Ben offered. “Did it instinctively? Used your intuition?”

  “Ooooooh.” I got it now.

  “Intuition is like common sense.” Ben moved from the rear seat to the driver’s seat. “Not everyone has it.”

  “Roger that.” I’d discovered that to be true from my years as an office temp. As a person who had common sense, it had come as a shock to discover not everyone was blessed with the trait.

  Flashing lights caught my attention, and I adjusted the rearview to see another patrol car roll up. Officer’s Jacobs and Collier climbed out, stopped for a brief word with Walsh, before heading on up
to Keagan’s house. Had they found something? The painting, perhaps?

  An hour dragged by. My eyelids were drooping, and I smothered a yawn. My bladder was telling me sitting and waiting in Galloway’s car for much longer was not an option. Not if he didn’t want damp upholstery. Just as I was considering my options, the driver’s side door opened, and he climbed in. Ben moved out of the way just in time, retreating to his spot in the back.

  “All done?” I yawned.

  “The crew is just wrapping up.” Galloway nodded. “Sorry I kept you waiting out here. I should have gotten someone to drop you home.”

  “That’s okay,” I lied. “I got in some swatting for my exam.” It was true. Ben had quizzed me to within an inch of my life. So much so that my brain hurt.

  “Damn, I forgot you had your exam tomorrow.” He glanced at his watch and winced. “Geez, sorry Audrey, I should have given you the keys so you could take yourself home.”

  “Coulda, shoulda, woulda.” I lifted a shoulder. “But if you’re done now, can we go? I need the bathroom.”

  “Oh, man. I messed up on this one, huh?” He started the engine. The patrol car that had been behind us had left twenty minutes ago, taking Keagan to the station. If I’d thought of it, I could have hitched a ride with them, pretty sure Walsh would have been okay with dropping me home.

  “I take it you found the painting?” Crossing my legs, I concentrated on my pelvic floor muscles as every little bump in the road added extra pressure to my bladder.

  “And then some!” Galloway snorted, shooting me a glance before turning his attention back to the road. “It looks like Dunn has himself a nice little counterfeit setup going on.”

  “Counterfeit?” I frowned. “As in money?”

  “As in paintings.” Galloway corrected. “His home studio was full of the same painting. Complete with the forged artist’s signature. That’s what took so long. We had to confirm they were rip-offs, that he wasn’t copying his own work—which isn’t illegal.”