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

by Jane Hinchey

  And Ben? He could be anywhere. He flits around, usually crashing in on neighbors to see who is watching what on television. Sometimes he spends time with his dad in the aged care facility. William Delaney is suffering from Alzheimer’s, and after Ben’s death, not only did I inherit everything Ben owned, I also became responsible for his father.

  Turning my attention back to Henry, I asked, “what’s the last thing you remember?”

  He looked at me oddly. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what’s the last thing you remember doing?”

  “Well, I…” he trailed off. “I don’t remember coming here, for one thing.”

  “No?” I took a sip of coffee, scalding my tongue. “What were you doing then? You’re in your Santa costume.”

  He looked at the bright red pants and ran his palms down the worn fabric. “Yes. I am.” A smile curled his lips. “Ken and I are playing Santa again this year.”

  Ken was not only Henry’s best friend but his other neighbor. The elderly gentlemen were two peas in a pod. Same, same, but different. Similar builds, but where Henry had a head of thick white hair, Ken was bald. But put them in a Santa suit with a red hat and fake beard, and you couldn’t tell them apart. Ken was going to be devastated at Henry’s death.

  “Right. At the concert tonight.” I nodded and then glanced at my watch. “It’s not even six a.m. A little early to get into costume, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, I wear this around the house all the time.” Henry grinned, his eyes sparkling. His hand settled on to his round belly. That’s when his smile slipped. “What’s this?” Frowning, he poked a finger through the bullet hole in his suit. “Darn it,” he muttered, “now I’m going to have to get this fixed. I don’t even know how I managed to rip a hole in it, right at the front like this? And it’s stained! Is that sauce?”

  I leaned forward and placed my coffee cup on the table. “Henry, there’s something you need to know.”

  He didn’t glance up from examining his damaged Santa suit. “Hmmm? What’s that?”

  “You’re dead.”

  He froze. Then his head snapped up, and his blue eyes narrowed as he stared at me. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but no words came out.

  “Nice one, Fitz,” Ben drawled from behind me, startling me so bad I yelped and nearly threw myself out of the armchair.

  “Ben,” I hissed, “how many times do I have to ask you not to sneak up on me?”

  “Dozens. But I’m pretty sure you have bigger problems right now. Like the dead Santa on your sofa?”

  “That’s Henry. Our lake house neighbor.”

  “Yeah, well, Henry isn’t looking so good.”

  “Ben,” I scolded, “he’s dead. Of course, he doesn’t look good!”

  Henry suddenly shot to his feet and headed for the door.

  “Uh oh, we’ve got a runner,” Ben took off after him, the pair of them passing right through the back door.

  “Guys! Wait up!” Damn it. Hurrying after them, I stopped to pull on boots, coat, hat, and scarf over my PJs before opening the door and stepping outside. Who would have thought on Christmas Eve I’d be running around at dawn chasing two ghosts?

  2

  Outside, the air was cold enough to freeze my lungs. Puffs of white clouded in front of me with each breath, and despite my warm coat, I could feel the cold of winter nipping at me. Stomping across the back porch, I had one foot on the top stair, my eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of the two ghosts when my foot slipped out from under me, and I shot down the stairs, thump, thump, thump, before landing on my butt in a pile of snow at the bottom.

  “Ow.” Clambering to my feet, I dusted off the snow, thankful for the relatively soft landing and the padding my coat provided on the journey down. My butt was bruised, but I’d had worse.

  Glancing up at the house, I checked the windows for movement, hoping I hadn’t woken anyone. Although, to be honest, they were used to my spills and accidents. Audrey Accident Prone Fitzgerald is my name, and tripping, falling, and dropping things, is my game. I shivered, but not with the cold. If my sister-in-law, Amanda, had seen that spill, I’d never hear the end of it. Amanda is a very intelligent, beautiful, perfect wife to my brother and mother to his children. And she is on a never-ending quest to fix me. Only I’m not broken. Just clumsy.

  Boots crunching on the snow, I made my way around the side of the house, raising my hand to shield my eyes from the glare of the sun. No sign of Ben or Henry. Assuming Henry had hightailed it home, I headed towards his place, cutting across the rear of both properties. While we were neighbors, Henry’s cabin was nothing like our six-bedroom house. Two stories, plus attic, everything was large. A ten-seater table, a massive modular sofa, a kitchen you could fit a football team in. Henry’s entire cabin would fit in our lower floor. But then it was just Henry. He was a widower with no children. He had no need for the massive amount of space the Fitzgerald clan necessitated.

  Climbing up his back steps, I stopped when I noticed the back door was ajar, the huge Christmas wreath catching the early morning sun and glinting, belying the tragedy that had befallen Henry.

  “Ben?” I hissed, creeping across the porch and pushing the door with one gloved finger. It swung in without a sound, and I cautiously stepped over the threshold. It was cold inside, the fire had long since gone out, which told me Henry had been dead for a while, and with the back door ajar, the frigid outside air had quickly taken hold of the cabin.

  “Ben!” I hissed again a little louder then stopped to listen. Nothing. Nothing but silence. A silence so eerie a shiver ran down my spine, and the fine hairs on my arms stood on end. Then I noticed the state of Henry’s cabin. Now Henry may be a single man living alone, but he was no slob. He was a retired school teacher, and I’d sat at his table enjoying a hot chocolate many times, so there was no way he’d let his cabin get into such a state. Cushions were tossed on the floor, books had been turfed off the bookshelf, kitchen drawers and cupboard doors stood ajar. The cabin had been ransacked.

  “Oh, Henry, what did you stumble into?” Someone had been here, that much was obvious, and they were clearly searching for something. The question is, what? I stuck my head in the downstairs half bath that doubled as a laundry room. Empty. Then hurried upstairs, checked the bedroom and bath. No sign of ghost Henry nor his mortal body. So he hadn’t been killed here.

  Back outside, I searched the snow for tracks, but there had been fresh snowfall overnight and the only footprints showing were mine. I stood on Henry’s porch and peered out toward the lake. No sign of Ben or Henry. Which left the woods to the right. Heaving a sigh, I trudged through the snow, working up a sweat as I made my way into the woods, the enormous trees draped in white casting eerie shadows.

  I followed the path from memory. A track that wove through the woods to a secluded cove that overlooked the lake, no houses or docks, just nature at its finest. Henry and Ken often fished there, as kids, Laura, Dustin and I had often camped out here. Close enough to home to be able to return if we got scared, but far enough away that we thought we were entirely without parental supervision.

  Another three minutes of slogging through the snow, I burst into the clearing, wheezing for breath. I caught sight of Ben, who stood with his hand on Henry’s shoulder. Both of them were looking at something on the ground… it didn’t take a genius to figure out what that was.

  “Hey,” I puffed, joining them.

  “Hey,” Ben said solemnly. “He was shot.” He indicated Henry’s body. I took a peek. Although not squeamish, I didn’t relish at looking at dead bodies either. Especially when they were someone I knew.

  Sure enough, Henry was splayed on his back, eyes open and unseeing, staring up at the sky. Only it had snowed, so now he was half-covered in white powder. But the blood that had stained the snow red was unmistakable.

  “So, he was facing the lake when he was shot.” I pointed out across the frozen water. From where I stood, I could just see the woods on
the other side. “Had to have been someone on the ice, it’s way too far for the shooter to have been on land.” And the way Henry’s body was positioned, he’d toppled backward when he was hit. The shot was straight to the heart, he’d have died instantly, which was little consolation, but I guess it was better than being wounded and then freezing to death.

  “Not necessarily,” Ben said, squinting as the morning sun hit the ice at just the right angle to send millions of refractions of light cutting through the air. “A rifle with a decent scope could probably do it.”

  “You think a hunter mistook him for a deer?” I was skeptical. Henry’s Santa suit was pretty hard to miss. It was unlikely he’d been mistaken for a wild animal.

  Ben snorted. “Unlikely, Fitz.”

  “Murder then.” Poor Henry. Who would want to kill him? He was one of the nicest people I’d ever met. Warm, generous, kind. He loved the lake community he lived in. I found it hard to imagine someone had such a beef with him that they wanted him dead.

  “Henry, any recollection of what you were doing out here?” I asked. Ghost Henry shook himself out of the stupor he’d slipped into and came to stand by my side, keeping his back to the body on the ground.

  “I walk here most afternoons,” he said. “Sometimes, I stop and toss a few pebbles across the ice.”

  “To see how solid it is?” I asked.

  “Nah, just for fun,” he grinned. “See how far they’ll slide.”

  “And you did that yesterday afternoon?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I remember standing there, watching as a pebble slid all the way out. I had my hand up over my eyes, the sun sure can be blinding with all this snow and ice to reflect off.”

  “Did you see anyone on your walk? Notice anything?”

  “Not a soul. Not many folks are big on walking during winter.” He’d mimicked holding his hand up to shield his eyes, but a look flashed across his face as he dropped his arm. “I remember seeing a flash. Like the sun was glinting off a mirror or something. From the woods on the other side.”

  Ben and I exchanged a look. It could have been the shooter.

  “What happened after that?”

  A moment's silence as Henry thought over yesterday’s events. “I honestly don’t know. I guess maybe I was shot?” He cast a glance over his shoulder then quickly faced the lake again. I compressed my lips. Henry had been shot late afternoon. Possibly not long after we’d arrived at the lake house. It saddened me to think that while we’d been settling in and having fun, Henry had died here in the cold, alone.

  I heard footsteps crunching in the snow long before Galloway turned up, Thor trotting along behind him.

  “Audrey?” Galloway spotted the red mound on the ground, did a quick reconnaissance before crossing to my side, sliding an arm around my waist. “Have you called the sheriff?” he asked softly.

  I blew out a breath, leaning into his warmth. “Not yet. I left my phone in the house.”

  “How did you know he was here?”

  “His ghost joined me for my early morning coffee.”

  Thor wound his way around my legs, and I leaned down to pick him up. “How are those toe beans, Thor? Not frozen?” I snuggled my face into his soft gray fur.

  “Blimey woman, what do you take me for? Soft?” He sniffed in disdain. “My toe beans, as you call them, are fine, thank you very much.”

  “Okay then,” I grinned, “do you want to get down?”

  “Did I say that?” He started to purr, the loud rumble vibrating through me.

  “Oh, you got a cat!” Henry exclaimed, coming over to pet Thor. I watched as Henry scratched Thor’s ears, and Thor head-butted Henry’s hand. It puzzled me how Thor could interact with ghosts. He could not only hear and see them but also touch them. It was up there as one of life’s mysteries.

  “He was Ben’s cat. You remember Ben, don’t you?” I belatedly realized that I hadn’t officially introduced ghost Henry to ghost Ben. “Ben died this year. But he’s been out to the lake house a time or two, you’ve probably met him before.”

  “Yes, yes,” Henry nodded. “I recognize him. I didn’t know you’d died, though. I’m so sorry.”

  Ben shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  “They’re both here?” Galloway’s voice was hot in my ear, sending a shiver of warmth over my skin. I nodded, snuggling closer. “Yep. Henry was out here for a walk yesterday afternoon. He stopped to skip stones on the ice, thought he saw a flash, like light reflecting off a mirror, over there in the woods on the other side. That’s it.”

  Galloway repeated what Ben and I had done – stood on the shore with our hands shielding our eyes as we peered across the lake to the other side. “Ben thinks it’s a rifle with a scope?”

  “Yup,” I sighed. “I guess we should call the sheriff.”

  “On it.” Galloway already had his phone in his hand. “Why don’t you go back to the house. I can wait here.”

  “What, and risk waking my family up? Pft, I’d rather stay here thanks very much,” I scoffed. I loved my family, I truly did, but when we were all together like this, it was always that little bit extra. Plus, they’d want to join in the investigation into Henry’s death, and that would be a bad idea. A very bad idea.

  3

  The lake community had one law enforcement officer. Sheriff Dwight Caldwell. Mid-forties, beer belly hanging over his belt, a ruddy hue across his cheeks. He smelled like tobacco and pumpkin spice.

  “Morning, Audrey. Good to see you out at the lake again,” he greeted, removing his wide-brimmed hat and dusting it on his pant leg before putting it back on.

  “Dwight. This is my boyfriend, Kade Galloway.”

  Galloway held out his hand. “Detective Kade Galloway, Firefly Bay PD.”

  Dwight’s eyebrows shot up, but he shook Galloway’s hand while looking at me with a speculative gleam in his eye. “Dating a cop, Audrey? Thought you said it would be a cold day in hell before that happened?”

  Trust Dwight to remember. To give the man his due, he had persistently pursued me every time I came to the lake house, despite my numerous rejections and clear disdain for any member of law enforcement. All because of Ben.

  Ben had been a cop once, only he’d been framed by a corrupt officer and forced to quit. I’d been outraged on his behalf and ever since had refused to have anything to do with anyone remotely connected to law enforcement. That is until Detective Kade Galloway had wormed his way under my defenses – it helped that he was part of a secret investigation into dirty cops and had promised to right the wrongs done to Ben.

  “I hear hell’s pretty chilly these days,” I grinned, then my smile slipped. “It’s Henry. His body is this way.” I waved an arm behind me, toward the woods. Spinning on my heel, my foot slipped out from under me, and I would have fallen if Galloway hadn’t caught me.

  “Upsy Daisy,” he said, clamping my shoulders in an iron grip until he was sure I had my footing.

  “Upsy Daisy?” Ben hooted with laughter, and I shot him a glare. Now was not the time, not when I had an audience other than Galloway.

  “What do you think, Detective? The old guy have a heart attack?” Dwight asked, falling into step behind us as we led the way back to Henry’s body.

  “He’s been shot,” Galloway replied. “I’m afraid you’re looking at a homicide, Sheriff.”

  Dwight stopped in his tracks. Galloway and I kept walking, and it was several feet before we realized Dwight was no longer with us. We turned simultaneously to see the Sheriff standing with a concerned look on his face. I looked at Galloway and then back at Dwight, confused. It wasn’t until Ben said, “Ah, methinks, this is the Sheriff's first murder!” that I realized why Dwight had skidded to a halt.

  I cleared my throat and offered a tentative smile. “Appreciate this may be Willow Lake’s first murder in quite some time, Sheriff, but rest assured, we’re here to help. You may not have heard yet, but I’m a qualified private investigator, and of course, Galloway here is a Detecti
ve.”

  “I’d heard rumors that you had your own PI business. Something about a friend who died.”

  My smile slipped. I had a new life, one I loved, all thanks to my best friend dying. It still seemed so unfair. Ben nudged me in the ribs, an icy cold blast that happened whenever he touched me. “Awww come on Fitz, don’t get maudlin. Think of Henry! And having a case to solve will get you out of the house.”

  Good point. Work the case, avoid my family. A win-win if you ignored the glaring reality that a man had died.

  Then Dwight had to go and spoil it all. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got this.” He pushed past us, following our earlier tracks that would ultimately lead him to where Henry lay in the snow.

  Galloway and I followed. “You sure about him?” Galloway whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Ben says he thinks this might be Dwight’s first murder. So no. I’m not sure about him at all.” Life in Willow Lakes was as small-town as it could get. Dwight’s days were no doubt filled with traffic infringements, scolding Esme Fuller about letting her dog pee all over her neighbor's hydrangeas, and de-escalating the feud between Barry McKenzie and Graham Sharp over the prized rooster that they initially bought together and now couldn’t agree on who should have custody of the bird. Investigating who had killed Henry Peterson was another matter entirely.

  We reached the clearing where Henry’s body lay, just in time to stop Dwight from picking up his feet and… what had he been intending? To drag him?

  “Hold up,” Galloway didn’t exactly shout, let’s just say he called out with great enthusiasm. “Don’t you want to photograph the scene before you move anything?”