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

by Jane Hinchey

  “You need to calm down,” I whispered out the corner of my mouth as Anita stormed back and forth in front of me, glowing an angry shade of red. She’d ranted and raved a solid five minutes about what she was going to do to Lacey when she caught up with her. All empty threats, of course, considering she was incorporeal, but I got it. Your best friend messing with your kid was enough to send anyone off the deep end.

  Logan had taken the truck over to the lumber storage shed and was loading up while we waited for Galloway. I’d told him he couldn’t go in the office until the police arrived, and he’d said he had too much nervous energy to sit and wait, so loading lumber seemed the logical thing to do. I waited out front with Anita.

  “Have you seen Ben?” I asked.

  “No. Why?”

  “He was coming to tell you about Lacey. That we think maybe Tyler took your necklace and gave it to her as a gift.”

  Anita’s face fell. I can’t imagine the hurt of having your child steal from you, let alone give that item as a gift to someone else. Someone who was your best friend who was betraying you behind your back.

  “Why did you become friends with her, anyway?” I asked. “Especially when you knew she tried to get your husband into bed.”

  “Oh, I’m not one for grudges. Not usually.” She added, clearly thinking about the situation with Tyler. “I trust my husband. He told me straight away what had happened. This sort of thing does crop up now and then in his line of work. He’ll turn up to a client’s house, and it’s some bored housewife looking for a little fun, she tries it on. Logan’s a silver fox for sure, I’m aware women find him attractive.” She narrowed her eyes. “I wonder if this is why Lacey kept trying to undermine our marriage. She was the one pushing the idea that Logan was having an affair.” Then her eyes widened. “She was trying to break us up!”

  “But why? If she was in a relationship with Tyler?”

  “I don’t know. But what you saw at the restaurant this morning, them arguing, you said it sounded like they’d broken up?”

  “Seemed that way.”

  “You don’t think she killed me, do you?” Anita whispered, hand over her mouth in horror.

  “I can’t rule her out. Although it seems extreme. While she had the opportunity, I’m not clear on what her motive would be. She didn’t need you out of the way to continue a relationship with Tyler.”

  “What if it’s not Tyler that she wants? What if it’s Logan? And she figured the only way she could get him was to get rid of me?”

  I couldn’t discount it. Not until we’d talked with Lacey. And Tyler. And find out exactly what had been going on. Ben and I could have totally gotten the wrong end of the stick, all of this was entirely speculation, and we could be accusing Lacey of something she hadn’t done.

  “Even if she did, it was for nothing. Logan would never be with her. He said there was something about her he didn’t like, he tolerated her for my sake, but that was it.” Anita continued, not waiting for a response.

  Galloway’s car turned into the lot, and Anita squinted at it for a second before turning back to me. “I bet Ben has gone to find Lacey, see what she’s really up to.”

  “Possibly.” I agreed.

  “I’m going to find him.” With that, she disappeared, leaving me to greet Galloway on my own.

  “Fitz.” Galloway winked as he climbed out of the car.

  “Galloway.” I grinned, then pointed to the office door. “Inside, on the floor.”

  He pulled a couple of evidence bags from his pocket, snapped on a pair of latex gloves, and opened the door. I stood in the doorway and watched as he scooped up the EpiPen and sealed it in an evidence bag, then did the same with the zip-lock bag.

  “She did a runner, huh?” He asked, straightening.

  “She fooled me,” I admitted. “I thought she was going to turn herself in. For the embezzling.” I added. “But then her bag fell off the desk and… well, I guess she figured having those in her possession made her look guilty. Of murder.”

  “I’ll get them fingerprinted, see what comes up.” He righted Noreen’s handbag and collected her belongings that had scattered around it, dropping them back inside. “We’ll also do a thorough inspection of her bag and its contents.” He explained, “see if she’s hiding anything. You said you had further evidence of her embezzling?”

  I told him about the historical society accounts and that Noreen had confessed to the thefts when I confronted her.

  Gathering up the handbag and two evidence bags, Galloway shook his head. “What was she thinking? She had to know eventually she’d get found out.”

  “Right? She started skimming to fund a cruise, which, ironically, she hasn’t taken. I’m pretty sure the money is all sitting in her account.”

  “That’s something, I suppose. We can make sure it gets back to the clients she stole from.”

  “What happens next?”

  “We’ll get the forensic accounting team in the city to go through all of Noreen’s accounts and the accounts of all of her clients, big or small. Then once we’ve confirmed what you’ve told us, we will lay charges.”

  “And the EpiPen? The bottle and syringe?”

  “The lab can confirm if the bottle contains oyster sauce and if it’s the same oyster sauce used in the noodle cup. They can also confirm if the syringe has been used. And like I said, we’ll dust for prints.”

  “Do you think they were planted? That you won’t find any prints because they’ve been wiped clean?” I recalled the look of surprise on Noreen’s face. Either she was a damn fine actor, or she’d had no idea those items were in her bag.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think she’s being framed. If Noreen was the one who spiked the noodle cup, she wouldn’t have left those things in her bag, she would have disposed of them. She knows how to hide her tracks; she’s been doing it with her embezzling. Granted, not very well, but well enough that her clients didn’t notice.” I chewed on my lip. “What about Keagan? Could he have done this?”

  “Anything is possible at this stage. He’s been charged with art fraud, but unless one of the clients he sold a forgery to comes forward, those charges may not stick.”

  “What? That’s crazy.”

  “He’s claiming the paintings we found in his home studio are reproductions, not forgeries.”

  “But what about the two hundred-million-dollar concert painting?”

  “We’re trying to get the DA to accept a receiving stolen goods charge. It’s murky. Anita didn’t know the painting was stolen or valuable. She wasn’t the owner per se, the historical society is as per the wording of Kelsh’s estate. The historical society gave the painting to Keagan for restoration. It’s up to us to prove that he knew what it was and was preparing to sell it on the black market. We’re also digging into Dudley Kelsh’s background. He may well be the initial thief.”

  I whistled. “And can you? Prove Keagan was up to no good?”

  “We’re working on it. He had already started on a forgery of the painting, we assume to give to the historical society, covering his tracks. Even if someone recognized the painting in the future, it could be examined and ruled a reproduction, leaving Keagan in the clear because they’ll assume the forgery came from the Kelsh estate and wasn’t created after the original was found. But we’re going through phone and email records, bank accounts, everything. He’d have made contact with a buyer as soon as he got his hands on it. Several, I’d imagine. And sell it to the highest bidder. Once we find a record of those transactions or communications, we’ve got him.”

  “Do you think he killed Anita?”

  He heaved a sigh. “Well, if she found out the truth about the painting, then he certainly had a motive. He definitely had the opportunity. As did Noreen. We just need evidence. The EpiPen and the syringe and bottle may just give us what we’re searching for, a print, even a partial will help. A little bit of DNA, like a drop of sweat. A hair or fiber. Something tying one of them to
these items.” He held up the evidence bags. “And then we’ve got them.”

  “I’ve got another suspect you might want to take a look at.” I glanced over my shoulder. Logan was still loading his truck, out of earshot. “This isn’t confirmed, but I have my suspicions.”

  Galloway headed out the door to place the evidence in his car. “Who?”

  I followed, filling him in on the whole story of Lacey and Tyler, ending with, “and now Ben and Anita are both off seeing what they can dig up on the pair.”

  Slamming the trunk closed, he leaned on it and studied me. “You have been busy.”

  “I know, right?” I grinned. It was good to see him, I’d missed him last night. My heart was all aflutter, and despite the fact we were investigating a murder, I was giddy with excitement. Or it could be nerves for the PI exam.

  As if reading my mind, he said, “I’m glad I got to see you before your exam.” His full mouth showed traces of a smile that reached all the way up to his sparkling grey eyes, the blue and steel flecks brilliant in the sunlight.

  “Oh? Why’s that?” Acting coy was so unlike me I took myself by surprise, almost snorting.

  “So I can do this.” He offered me a soft kiss, his mouth brushing across mine before he showered tiny kisses along my cheek to my ear. His warm breath stirred my hair as he whispered, “I’ve missed you.”

  It was like he was in my head. “I missed you too,” I admitted. Corny, but true. He raised his hand to caress my face, and a hunger flashed in his irises, causing an answering warmth to flood my entire body. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I raised myself on tiptoes, my lips a scant inch from his when the blaring of my alarm jerked us apart.

  Galloway held up my phone, swiped to turn the alarm off, then handed it to me. I gasped. “You had your hand in my pocket, and I didn’t even feel it.” I paused. “Do it again.”

  He laughed and swatted my rear. “You have an exam to get to, remember?”

  “That was my one-hour reminder. There’s plenty of time.”

  “One hour?” Galloway cocked his head. “Are you sure?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Audrey, it’s one-forty-five. You have fifteen minutes.”

  “What? No way!” I looked at the time on my phone. Holy crap, he was right. Where had the time gone? And what happened to my alarm, I swear I set it for one o’clock.

  Grabbing my shoulders, Galloway gave me one more hard kiss, then spun me around and pointed me at my car. “Go. Call me when you’re finished.”

  “Will do.” Much like Noreen had, I left the Finley Construction lot with tires spinning and gravel flying.

  15

  This couldn’t be happening. Slamming my fist on the steering wheel, I peered at the dash. The gas tank was empty. Empty! Where was the screech and flashing light to warn me? Nowhere to be found. Maybe it had absconded with my gas. With no warning that my tank was low, the needle had moved beyond empty, well and truly into the red without so much as a squeak. With no juice, I had no power steering, so with both hands gripping the steering wheel in a death grip, I coaxed my rolling car onto the verge and finally came to a stop.

  Grabbing my bag, I slung it over my shoulder, locked the car, and ran as fast as my legs could carry me toward the Council Chambers. I daren’t look at the time, I was already cutting it fine. My exam could be overseen by anyone, and I’d initially thought sitting it at the police station was a good idea until Ben pointed out how distracting that would be. And potentially noisy. The next best place had been the Council Chambers, and for a fee, they were happy to accommodate me.

  Sweat trickled down my back, and my breath was rasping in and out of my lungs, my bag thumping into my hip with each lunge forward. I skidded around a corner, almost lost my balance, but righted myself and surged onward, the Council Chambers in my sights. Flying up the stairs, I burst through the doors, breathless, red-faced, and disheveled.

  “Audrey…” I panted, leaning on the counter, trying to catch my breath, “Fitzgerald.”

  The woman behind the counter looked at me then turned her attention to the monitor angled to the right of her. “Ah yes. Audrey Fitzgerald, invigilator services. You are aware there is a fee?”

  “Yes.” I puffed, already reaching into my purse for my wallet, flipping it open and pulling out a fifty. “Here.”

  While she typed up my receipt and put the money in the cash tin, I looked at the clock on the wall behind her, the second hand sweeping up, in a matter of seconds it would be two o’clock.

  A door leading towards the back of the building opened, and a gray-haired man stepped through. “Louise is there an Audrey Fitzgerald he—oh. Are you Audrey?” He asked, spying me brushing my hair back from my overheated face. I’m sure I was glowing as red as a tomato thanks to the mammoth run I’d taken to get here on time. I nodded.

  “Please, come on through. We’ll get you set up, and then it’s go time. Can I get you anything? Water?”

  I could have kissed him. “Water would be wonderful, thank you. Sorry, I rushed to get here.”

  He smiled reassuringly. “Well, you made it, so you can relax. The exam is delivered online, we can start it at any time, so take a minute to gather yourself, I’ll get you a glass of water. Do you need the bathroom?”

  I didn’t, but as soon as he suggested it, the sudden urge to pee hit me. Nervous wees. I used the bathroom, drank a glass of water, handed over my bag, and was led into a room that held a bank of computers, each with a screen separating them from each other in individual little cubicles. Frank, for I’d learned that was his name, pointed to the cubicle at the far end, next to the window.

  “We’ve got you set up down here. You’ll find a pencil and some scrap paper and a calculator. When you’re ready to begin, just hit enter on the keyboard. We have you all logged in and ready to go. Once you hit enter, you have ninety minutes to complete the exam. Questions?”

  “I’m all good. Thank you.”

  Frank settled himself in a chair by the door and pulled out a John Grisham novel. Pulling out my chair, I adjusted the height, stared at the screen in front of me, then with only a slight tremor in my hand, hit enter.

  Standing on the steps of the Council Chambers one hour and twenty minutes later, I looked at the printout in my hand and allowed myself a little yip of joy. The benefit of sitting the exam online was I got the results immediately. I was now a bona fide private investigator.

  Pulling out my phone, I dialed. “Mom? I passed!”

  “Oh, darling, that’s wonderful, I’m so proud of you. Your father will be thrilled.”

  “Yeah, I—”

  “Darling, I’m sorry, but now’s not a good time. I’ll call you back this evening, okay? Ta ta.”

  Frowning at the screen of my phone, I read the words beneath mom’s number. Call disconnected. My mom had hung up on me. With a shrug, I tried Laura. No answer. Same with Dustin. I didn’t even bother trying Dad, he never answered his cell at work. Blowing out a sigh, I pulled up Galloway’s number on the off chance he could speak. Nope. Straight through to message bank.

  With only a slight twinge of pique, I continued down the steps of the Council Chambers, stumbled on the last one, and staggered out onto the sidewalk, colliding with a woman walking her dog.

  “I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed, righting myself. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She hurried away, dragging the poodle at the end of the leash with her.

  Ducking into the bakery a few doors down I grabbed an iced caramel macchiato and a bear claw in way of celebration, then called Triple A. Shoving my mouth full of pastry goodness, I meandered back to where I’d left my car on the side of the road, mulling over the apparently faulty fuel gauge and cursing myself that I hadn’t noticed it was getting low. Goes to show how reliant we become on machines. I’d gotten so used to the warning alarm when the tank was getting low that I’d gotten into the habit of not even looking at the gauge.

  Within half an hour I’d fini
shed my bear claw and my iced caramel macchiato, I’d had a lovely chat with the Triple A mechanic who’d come to my rescue with a jerrycan of gas and a recommendation to get my car checked out by my mechanic for, he agreed, I should have had plenty of notice that the tank was getting low.

  Still on a high from passing my exam, despite having no-one to celebrate with, I headed home. Now that I was a qualified private investigator, a world of databases was now available to me that weren’t before. Databases that made conducting background checks a lot easier and a lot faster.

  “Hey, Thor.” Greeting my cat with a scratch behind his ears, I headed into my home office, Thor winding his way around my ankles as I went.

  “What is that I smell?” he asked. “You’ve had something sweet. With cinnamon. And almond. Did you bring me some? Where is it?” I’d dropped my bag on the floor by the desk, and he was nose-deep, searching for a treat.

  “Sorry, buddy, no treats for you.”

  His head shot up, and he glared at me. “How dare you?” Flouncing out of the room with his tail in the air, I bit back a giggle, for his round belly poked out on both sides—he definitely needed a diet which negated any guilt I felt about not saving him any of my bear claw.

  Firing up the computer, I made a pit stop to the bathroom before returning to begin a background check on one Lacey Stevens. It took longer than expected because first, I had to register—as a bonafide private investigator—to use the various databases. Still, once I’d set up the accounts, it was smooth sailing. The hours were ticking by, and the shadows on the wall told me it was getting late in the afternoon when something popped up on Lacey Stevens. Something very interesting.

  For one thing, she was fired from her last job in the city. And she was suspected of arson, but never charged. It hadn’t been proven that she was the guilty party, but it seemed she’d been having an affair with the owner of the restaurant where she was working. When he’d ended the relationship, Lacey had turned all bunny boiler on him, stalking and harassing him until it got to the point where he not only fired her, he got a restraining order against her. And then his restaurant burned down.