Yasmine Galenorn - Chintz 'n China 01

by Ghost of a Chance

  My eyes misted over. “You really are an angel. Harl, you’ve already been a big help. Thank you for everything, but we were right—you can’t get involved.” I reassured her that we would keep her up-to-date on what was going on, and she reassured me that if she heard anything out of the ordinary, she’d let me know. I replaced the receiver. All I could think about was that she wasn’t angry at me and she wasn’t going to tell James. I’d been handed a last-minute pardon by the governor himself. I turned to Andrew.

  “We’re on our own, bub. Harlow’s out of the picture. Thank heaven, she and the baby are going to be okay. She’s not telling James about the ghost, so don’t you mention it, either.” I played with the rest of my eggs, no longer hungry. “We’ve got a real mess on our hands. I don’t think I can do anything about Walter until I take care of Mr. B & U. I certainly can’t bring my kids back to this house until I clear him out.”

  Andrew stretched. “After we take care of the dishes, we could take a drive over to Walter’s. Try to talk to him.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I just told you that I can’t deal with him until I get rid of this spirit that’s terrorizing my family and friends. And what would we talk to him about? I don’t think he was too thrilled to hear that Harl and I had been down in Seattle hunting up his estranged daughter.”

  “I don’t know,” Andrew said. He sounded petulant. “I’m just trying to come up with something that might help. First you say that Susan thinks he killed her. Now we find out that he has no motive, no reason to get rid of her. Maybe we can’t prove him guilty, but can we prove him innocent? Maybe Susan is all messed up because she’s dead!”

  I stared at him. “Maybe so, but what if she’s telling the truth? What if Walter is more clever than either of us give him credit for? He can’t be a stupid man, not with the career he’s built for himself. I know you feel guilty about her death, but there’s nothing you can do now—”

  He slammed his fist down on the table. I jumped as his eyes flashed, and my stomach twisted in knots. “Why is it all right for you to get upset over Harlow’s accident and accept blame for it, but I can’t feel guilty over Susan’s death? What’s the difference?”

  I hated to admit it, but what he said made sense. However, his outburst was unacceptable. “I understand what you’re saying, Andrew. I really do. But don’t ever raise your fist in my house again. I took that kind of anger from Roy, but I won’t take it from anybody else. I refuse to be afraid in my own home.”

  He looked away and swallowed, pulling his hand back onto his knee. “I shouldn’t have done that; I was out of line. I’m sorry.”

  I relented a little. There were too many other things to worry over without tackling yet another problem. “Yeah, I know. Things are a real mess, aren’t they?”

  Andrew shrugged one shoulder, and he gave me a wan smile. “Everything is out of kilter lately. And with Joshua’s accusations, I have the feeling it’s only going to get worse.”

  I took his hand. “Come on, let’s go relax. We had a scary night, and we’re both still tired.” We wandered into the living room, where I grabbed the remote. The local news was on, and we curled up on the sofa. Thank goodness it was Sunday and Cinnamon was in charge of the shop for the afternoon. As it was, I still had to call Murray to ask if she could keep the kids one more night. There was a news item about a house fire out on Steel Eye Stream; looked bad. I hoped the family had made it out safely. A quick reference to Harlow’s accident flashed by, but the details were sketchy.

  Andrew pressed a quick kiss onto the end of my nose. “I guess I’ll spend the afternoon working. I’m starting a new book.”

  “New book? Good for you.” I perked up. “What’s the plot?”

  “Wandering minstrel, midwife, evil landowner… another historical romance.”

  “Leave me one of your books.” I usually didn’t read romances, but I wasn’t about to miss out on this opportunity.

  He snickered. “I can’t wait to hear what you have to say about it. Just be gentle? I’ll be right back; I’ve got a few scattered in the car.” He pulled on his shirt and dashed out into the overcast morning. More snow due this afternoon. When he returned, he was shivering. “Colder than a witch’s tit out there,” he said, then blushed. “Sorry.”

  “Andrew, I might actually admit to being the town witch, but I do still have a sense of humor. After all we’ve been through the past day or two, don’t sweat it.”

  He dropped a book in my lap, and I picked it up and examined the cover. The woman on the cover was gorgeous, of course, with a breathless look and boobs that were ready to fall out of her elegant, yet ripped, ball gown. Behind her stood a tall, brooding man with a leer on his face, and behind both of them towered the silhouette of a mansion. The Mistress of Peach Tree Manor. I glanced at the author’s name. Yep—Andrea Martin, like he’d first told me.

  He coughed. “Women still resist buying romances written by men. So I use a pseudonym, and by the time they figure out I’m a guy, they’re hooked on my work.”

  Squelching a wicked desire to tease him, I bit back a few choice remarks about his subject matter. “I want to curl up and read it right now, but I’ll save it for later tonight.” I was flipping through the pages when a breaking news bulletin flashed on the television. I turned the sound up. The reporter was Cathy Sutton—one of Bellingham’s overly bright and peppy young television personalities.

  “In a surprising move, police have made an arrest in the murder of a woman found stabbed to death in her Seattle apartment on Thursday. Police announced this morning that they have taken Walter Mitchell of Chiqetaw into custody. Mitchell was married to the deceased woman’s mother, author Susan Mitchell, who died last week of diabetes-related complications. Police have recovered what they believe to be the murder weapon from Mitchell’s house as well as evidence from the woman’s apartment.”

  I set Andrew’s book on the table and stared at the TV. “I’ll be damned.”

  Andrew glanced at me, uncertain. “I don’t think we’ll be talking to Walter anytime soon.”

  As I tightened the belt on my bathrobe, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something didn’t set right about Walter’s arrest. The next headline came on, so I turned off the television. “I have to call Murray. Why don’t you go ahead and do whatever you need to do.”

  Andrew headed for the door. “Call me later. Want to meet for dinner?”

  “Maybe—let’s see what happens. Pet the cats for me, would you? I miss them.” He promised, and I waved as he pulled out of the driveway. The fact that Walter was behind bars felt right in so many ways but no, something was out of kilter. I sighed. Too many questions, and I had too much to do to worry about finding the answers. After a quick shower, I put in a call to Murray.

  She answered on the second ring. “Hey, we were just talking about you. When do you want me to bring the kids over?”

  “Got a problem with that.” I filled her in on what had happened with Harlow. “Is there any way you can come over today? Can you leave them with White Deer? I’m scared to have them back in this house.”

  “Hold on,” she said, and I heard her talking to White Deer in the background. After a moment, she came back on the line. “White Deer will stay here another night. I’ll come over and we’ll plan out how we’re going to exorcise Mr. B & U, but I can’t actually do anything about it until tomorrow. That’s when my vacation starts. I’m sorry, Em, that’s the best I can do. I can’t afford to miss my shift tonight.”

  I relaxed. “That’s fine. I can hold out one more night as long as I know the kids are safe. When can you be over?”

  “Give me half an hour. Meanwhile, be careful. When Harlow broke that bottle, I think the genie escaped, if you know what I mean.”

  As I replaced the receiver, I knew precisely what she meant. And I wasn’t looking forward to trying to put the genie back in the bottle.

  * * *

  Chapter Nineteen

  MURRAY PULLED INTO the driveway
as I finished making up a pot of mint mocha for us. Her breath came in little puffs as she slipped through the back door, into the kitchen. “Hey, chick.” She gave me a hug as I asked how the kids were. “I left them in the middle of some top-secret projects.” She winked, and I immediately had visions of being inundated with homemade pot-holders and birdhouses for Christmas.

  I pressed a mug into her hand and handed her a plate of cookies. As she settled in at the table, I retrieved the ouroboros, which I had placed on a tray. I had fought the urge to douse it with Florida water, a Voudoun equivalent of holy water, and salt, which would neutralize some of the energy. “Don’t touch it.” I set the tray in front of her. “I have the awful feeling that Harlow wouldn’t have been hurt if she hadn’t picked this up.”

  Murray held her hand over the pendant, fingers a hairbreadth away from the metal. I held my breath, willing her not to slip. After a moment she pushed the plate away. “Oh, man, bad medicine. Big bad. This thing is supercharged, Em. I think you’re right: Anything that comes in contact with this is a sitting duck.” I had touched it. I didn’t have to say anything. She knew what I was thinking. “We have to get rid of him.”

  I pulled out Nanna’s journal. “I found an exorcism that might reverse that part of Nanna’s spell. It’s meant to clear out astral entities.” I pushed the book over to her. “It’s in German, but I can translate.”

  I laid out the basic text for her and she leaned back in her chair, thinking. After a few minutes, she nodded. “This should work, but it’s going to be nasty going in. Think we’re up to it?”

  “We have to be; nobody else can do it for us.” I closed the book and took another sip of my espresso. “So Walter got busted for killing Diana?”

  Murray gave me a queer look. “Do you think he did it?”

  Did I believe he did it? “Truthfully? I have no idea.” I thought about it for another moment. “No. I can’t tell you why, even though I should be the one accusing him here, considering I think he killed Susan. There’s something very suspicious about this entire situation. And what the hell is up with his stepbrother? That dude has some serious issues. By the way, do you know who inherits Diana’s estate?”

  “Slow down—one question at a time. I’m going to attend Diana’s funeral on Tuesday and see what I can find out. As far as Joshua, he’s pretty much eaten up by hatred—he’s so angry at Walt that it’s a wonder he didn’t burst in there and kill him. I’ll bet he empathizes with Diana, since Walt seems to have cut them both out of the family. The inheritance thing sent him over the edge, I think.” She stood up and rinsed her cup, then grabbed her jacket and zipped it up.

  “Why did you decide to go to Diana’s funeral?” I had thought about attending, too, but I had to work at the shop, and I’d been blowing off too many days. Cinnamon’s paycheck was going to be a nice, fat one for Christmas this year.

  She grinned. “I figured since Harlow’s out of the picture, you need a replacement. I may not have contacts among the upper crust, but I sure as hell can find out a lot you can’t. Walter won’t be there—obviously. He’s got money, but it will be several days before his arraignment comes up. You know, when Susan died, I was convinced it was an accident. Now that Diana’s dead and it looks like Walt might be our man, I’m not so sure.”

  I jumped up and gave her a huge hug. “Thank you! Oh, thank you! So, we tackle Mr. B & U tomorrow evening, then?”

  “We’ll take him on, Em. And we’ll win. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow afternoon, but I’ll be done in plenty of time. And I’ll beg another day from White Deer. By Tuesday it should be safe for the kids to come home again.”

  I confided to her that I was scared to go see them, considering the power the pendent seemed to have. “I don’t want to draw his attention onto them. Please, tell them I love them. Tell them we’re trying to clear this up. Tell them—”

  She put her hand on my arm. “Quit worrying. They know you love them, and I’ll make sure they know again.” She paused, door half open in her hands. “Em, I don’t like leaving you here alone, especially after what happened to Harlow. Are you sure you won’t come home with me? Or go to a hotel where you might be safer?”

  Safe? I didn’t think I’d be safe anywhere. “Harlow was on the road when he got to her. If Mr. B & U wants me, he’ll find me no matter where I am. I promise I’ll be careful. Now go on, get out of here.” As she pulled out onto the slick roads, the phone rang. It was Andrew. I asked how his work was going.

  “I roughed out the outline. The beginnings of a book always scare me—I’m never sure if I can keep the momentum going.”

  “Can I read it as you write?” I was still amazed by the fact that he was a romance writer. Somehow it just fit—I would manage to get involved with a gorgeous man who wrote bodice rippers.

  “No, you may not. I never let anybody see my work until I’m at least one draft through the book, even my writing group. So, how was your day? Any more news about Walter?”

  “Not that I know of. Murray came over, and we mapped out our attack for tomorrow night.” I roughly went over our plan.

  “That sounds far too dangerous. Is there any other way to handle this? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “There’s no other choice, Andrew. Not unless I sell the house and move, and I don’t think even that would do it. This thing is after me, after my family. God, I miss the kids; I can hardly wait for them to come home.” The sound of splintering glass echoed down the stairway, so loud that it sounded like something had smashed through a window. “Oh, shit! I’ll call you back.”

  I tossed the receiver on the table and took the stairs as fast as I could. The sound had come from my bedroom. Shards of my vanity mirror glittered all over the dressing table and floor, jagged edges threatening to slice anything that touched them.

  Nothing was out of order except the slivers of mirror that had showered my makeup, perfume, and jewelry box. The closet was open, but no one was inside. The cats were all at Andrew’s; they couldn’t have been responsible for the damage. I closed the door and bounded down the steps, trying to push thoughts of vengeful spirits out of my mind. They refused to budge. In my gut, I knew this was the work of the entity trailing after Susan.

  I leaned against the arch leading into the living room and tried to steady myself. What was I going to do? My nerves were shot, and I just wanted everything to be normal again. The first thing I had to do was clean up the mess. I couldn’t just leave it there. Broken glass was dangerous enough by itself, but with a wayward ghost around, it could too easily turn into ammunition. Steeling my courage, I dug out the vacuum and attempted another assault on the upper story.

  The bedroom was icy cold, even though the rest of the house was warm—a sure sign that a spirit had passed through. After gingerly picking up the bigger shards, I plugged in the vacuum. Propping my bedroom door open as wide as I could to give myself a head start should anything from the nether world show up, I turned on the motor and used the hose to start sucking up the slivers of glass. Thank heavens for the invention of the bagless vacuum.

  I had almost finished when a tap on my shoulder jolted me into a panic. My shriek reverberated through the room as I let go of the vacuum and whirled around, hands flailing to ward off whatever might be attacking me.

  Andrew grabbed me around the shoulders and pulled me into a tight embrace. “It’s okay! It’s okay! Em, it’s just me.” I began to shake, hyperventilating until he set me down on the bed and stroked my hair back from my face. “Emerald, it’s okay. I’m here now. Everything’s all right.”

  “Oh, my God, you scared me.” After I caught my breath, I filled him in on the broken mirror. A spark fluttered in my heart as I realized how worried he’d been. “I can’t believe you drove over here to check on me. Thank you.”

  “I’ll clean up the rest. You stay put.” He finished vacuuming the rest of the glass. Then he took a look at the wall where the mirror had been attached by heavy screws. A pensive shadow covered his fac
e. “I can’t figure out how your mirror broke. The fastenings on the wall were fine. It looks like it just jumped off all by itself. I’m not very sensitive to energy like you are. Do you think it’s our ugly friend?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I’d bet on it. Come on, let’s go downstairs.”

  We settled in the kitchen with hot cocoa and cookies. With a quick look at the clock, he sighed. “I hate this. I don’t want to leave you alone, but I should go home and take care of some business that I’ve ignored… contract stuff. My agent is on my back. If I don’t get it done tonight, my publisher will be breathing down my neck. Would you like to come back to my place?”

  I looked around. This was my home; all of my things were here. This was a haven where my children could grow up in safety, and nobody was going to run me out. My mother had left her country to follow my father across the ocean. Nanna had made the crossing alone, after Nappa died. My father had set up his own business, risking the chance of failure. But they’d survived and prospered. How could I fly in the face of family courage and leave, my tail between my legs?

  “Thanks, Andrew, but I’ll stay here. We McGradys never run away from our problems, even when we marry them.” I grinned at him. “As I told Murray, if Mr. B & U wants to get me, it doesn’t matter where I am. I’ll be careful, so you go home and work. I promise to stay out of my bedroom and keep my eyes open. Tomorrow Murray and I will blast that bad-ass out of here.”

  “Are you sure?” I nodded, and he gave me a long kiss. “Okay, then, but you call me if you need anything. Anything.” I waved, tensing as the door shut behind him. The broken mirror had spooked me, and the house was quiet. Too quiet. I grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV. Christmas shows. Well, at least they were cheerful. I left the set on for background noise and picked up a copy of Victoria but soon drifted off into a nap.