southern ghost hunters 01 - southern spirits

by fox, angie

  My eyes felt wet, my throat clogged. "We are right now. You're a police officer. You should know that."

  I wished I could see him. It was so dark.

  His free hand gently eased the hair away from my eyes, tucked it behind my ear. "We can tackle this."

  I wondered if Joy had thought so too.

  "Stranger things have happened," he said, daring me to contradict him. "Especially to you."

  "My life is never dull," I told him, resting a hand on his leg. "You should have run when you could." Although truth be told, I was glad he'd stuck around. Ellis was the nicest guy I'd ever yelled at, fallen on, or hit in the head with a ring.

  To my surprise I could hear a slight smile in his voice. "I haven't been the same since you offered to undress me in my room."

  I snorted. "You were injured. It was a mercy disrobing."

  "Too bad," he said pragmatically. I could hear the amusement in his voice, even down here, facing what we were. He leaned close. "I was really hoping to do this."

  "What?" I asked as his lips touched mine. He kissed me sweetly, gently, the way every girl deserves to be kissed at least once in her life.

  I couldn't believe it. I shouldn't have done it. But I found myself kissing him back, if just for a little while.

  A cold wind blasted the tunnel, forcing us apart. "I did it!" Joy announced, dropping a key into my lap.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  "Thank you," I whispered as I grasped the key.

  "What happened?" Ellis asked.

  "This." It took a few tries in the dark, but I inserted the key into the lock on Ellis's manacle and twisted. It clicked open.

  "I'll ask you later how you did that." He whooshed out a breath.

  "You didn't think we'd get out of here," I said, quite smug for someone who had thought it was impossible until about thirty seconds ago.

  I passed him the key and he unlocked me. "Now we move," he said, catching hold of me as we regained our feet. Both of us stumbled on the rocks on the floor. "Stand back," he said, launching himself against the wet brick wall.

  He hit with a dull thud. I couldn't see a thing. Another thud and faint silver light streamed through. It must have been the glow I could see in the cellar, the spiritual haze that was invisible to Ellis.

  "You've got it," I said, realizing he had to be killing his injured shoulder, even if he wasn't using that one as his battering ram. He'd knocked two bricks out. He just didn't see it.

  "Wait." I took Ellis's hand and placed it on the wet wall to show him the hole. "Here."

  He began yanking bricks out and so did I. We attacked the wet wall, pulling it apart until we could squeeze through. I grasped his hand in mine, forging the way as we faced the darkness.

  His shoulder hung awkwardly. No doubt he'd injured it worse. We stumbled out of the trap and raced through the underground passage.

  "Where's your sister?" he demanded.

  "At the library." Mayor Steward would know that too. We had to get to her before he did, only he had a head start.

  Joy dropped down in front of us, her eyes wild, and her hair streaming out behind her. "He's getting away!"

  I couldn't stop. I ran straight through her, shivering at the wetness that soaked into my very bones. "Sorry," I called over my shoulder. "Can you delay him?"

  Her mouth twisted into a grin. "I'll throw rocks into the road!"

  Not what I had in mind, but I didn't have time to brainstorm with a ghost.

  Ellis and I dashed out into the cellar, through the underground rooms, and straight for the ladder.

  "Call the police," I told him. We should be able to get a signal outside.

  "Steward took my cell phone," Ellis said, scrambling up the ladder after me.

  Of course. I knew that. Horror crashed over me. "He has my keys." Both our keys. He had Frankie's urn.

  Ellis rushed for the kitchen. "I've got a spare set."

  We made it to his Jeep in under a minute flat. Thank God we'd left it here last night. I just hoped it would be fast enough. He shoved a police-issue rooftop flasher onto the roof and peeled out.

  Ellis drove like a mad man.

  "Get the gun out of the glove box," he said, eyes on the road as he passed cars at an unholy speed.

  "You have another gun?" I protested, fumbling with the push-button latch.

  "I always have a gun," he muttered.

  I pulled out a Glock.

  "Now, load it," he said. "Ammunition's in the console. Grab my extra cuffs too."

  The man was a walking armory.

  "You okay?" he asked, taking his eyes off the road for a split second.

  They say you should never load a gun unless you intend to use it. With shaking fingers, I placed the bullets in the chambers.

  "Faster," he urged as we neared town.

  I had us locked and loaded by the time he pulled into the back lot of the library. Good thing, too. I froze in horror as a smiling Mayor Steward escorted Melody out to his car.

  His eyes widened as we blazed into the lot, and he reached for something in his pocket.

  Ellis barely stopped the car before he was outside. "Stop! Drop your weapon!"

  But I still had the gun. Steward drew a revolver and pointed it at Ellis.

  I fired two shots, and watched the mayor fall.

  He hit the ground and his weapon went flying. Melody screamed. Ellis was on Steward in a heartbeat. He cuffed his hands behind his back, ignoring the mayor's bleeding leg and his own injured shoulder.

  I stumbled out of the car, shaking. I'd fired straight through Ellis's windshield. He didn't seem to mind. In fact, Ellis looked quite stoic as he secured the mayor. "You are under arrest for the murders of Vernon Hale and Joy Sullivan."

  A group of library workers and patrons stood at the back door, gaping. Library Director Sheila Ward gasped, "I hope you have proof."

  Ellis glanced at her, and at the rest of the horrified crowd. "I've got a body."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Rocks pinged down on the mayor's car as I hugged Melody tight. "What the hey?" she kept asking, holding me and refusing to let go.

  "Mayor Steward killed a girl, back in the sixties, and buried her out at Wilson's Creek."

  She pulled back as the crowd behind her drew in a collective breath. "Are you sure?"

  I swore there were no secrets in this town. We were about to make that true again. "Mayor Steward left her body there, thought nobody'd find her. But Vernon Hale came across her purse during the renovation. He started looking into the case, and the mayor shot him."

  My sister's eyes widened. "Verity, I—"

  "Ellis abandoned the property after that. He was upset. It was a place he and his uncle planned to renovate together. When he went back to it, Steward realized he had to get the body off the property."

  "Yes, but can you prove it?" Sheila Ward called out.

  "Ellis can," I told her. He did, too. They found my bag in Steward's car, along with our keys, and the Taser he'd used on us. And Ellis's gun.

  And that was the scandal that gave Sugarland something else to talk about.

  ***

  Turns out the mayor wasn't as crippled as he'd claimed. He played up that old war injury for votes. And when he lost his property, he played hurt all the more.

  No one would suspect a frail man could dig up a body, start a house fire, or hunt down an officer of the law. No one would suspect he struggled down a hill in order to shove me to my death.

  The colonel had tried to warn me, just like he'd tried to warn Joy on the night of her death. Only he couldn't manifest so well outside the carriage house, and he couldn't stop Steward in any sort of physical way. So I'd fallen, and Joy had died all those years ago.

  Poor Harry had been passed out in the alley just as Steward said, a sacrificial lamb ready to take the blame for the mayor's sins.

  And they were many.

  Judge Parsons didn't even grant him bail—said with all his money, he was a flight risk.
I'd heard he was playing injured again in jail, trying for leniency. He could rot there for all I cared.

  That night, I curled up on my futon with Lucy in my lap. The house smelled of the meatloaf Melody had brought over. She'd gotten takeout from the diner, and it was spectacular.

  "You sure look happy," a voice echoed in my ear.

  I jumped, startling Lucy. "Frankie!" I didn't even mind this time when he snuck up on me. "Where have you been?"

  "On a ride with a killer," he said, as he settled in next to me, a mere flicker of his usual self.

  "Are you all right?" He didn't look so good.

  "My legs will grow back, along with the rest of me," he mused. "I'm getting too old for this sort of thing."

  "You're not even a hundred," I protested. "Well, maybe not a hundred and fifty."

  "It's not the years, it's you," he said, tactful as ever. "You get my urn back?"

  "No." It had been in Steward's car. Ellis hadn't been able to retrieve it before they locked down the scene. "The sergeant said he'd have it back to me soon."

  "He'd better, or else I'm gonna haunt the fuzz."

  I supposed he could. It was the only place for Frankie to lurk unless he wanted to hang out at my place.

  "The good news is we saved the house."

  Ellis had somehow found the time to deposit twenty thousand dollars into my account. As if the man hadn't already been shot at, buried alive, and jumped on by yours truly.

  "We're safe for now," I told him.

  "When we get my urn back, we gotta work on getting me ungrounded."

  "Right," I told him, fighting the urge to chew at my lip.

  Like Scarlett O'Hara, we'd worry about the rest tomorrow.

  ***

  When things had settled down a bit and Frankie's urn was back on my mantelpiece, Ellis called me up and invited me back to the carriage house to check on everyone. He wanted to see what more we could do to alleviate their stress about the renovation.

  "Is Joy here?" he asked, as he closed the big doors behind me.

  "She's not," the colonel said, from his favorite alcove. I went to join him as he fed a carrot to Annabelle the horse. Only this time, an elegant woman in an old-fashioned dress stood beside him. He smiled, drawing an arm around her. "Verity, please allow me to introduce you to my wife, Mary."

  Her eyes sparkled as she gazed up at him. Then she inclined her head toward me. "Thank you."

  She appeared happy, and at peace. "It's so good to see you," I told her.

  The colonel took her hand, weaving his fingers with hers. "Mary was here all along," he said, "but it seems she was too terrified to show herself. You must understand, Joy was a good person, but she could be quite frightening."

  I'd experienced that myself. "She went to the light?"

  The colonel chuckled. "After she ran out of rocks."

  If putting dents in the mayor's car helped her feel better, then I was glad. "She saved us," I said. "I just wish I could have thanked her."

  "She knows," the colonel assured me, his eyes sparkling. "She said to thank you as well. She wishes us all the best."

  Then she was well and truly free.

  Authorities had been by the day after Steward's arrest to remove the body. They'd positively identified it as Joy Sullivan. And they'd formally charged Thad Steward with her murder. It seemed he'd left DNA evidence behind.

  I startled a bit as a trumpet blew in the kitchen. A few thump-thumps of a drum followed, and before I knew it, a jazz band had started up.

  "Frankie?" I asked, nudging the urn in my bag. He had to see this.

  My gangster friend's head popped out from the middle of one of the kitchen doors. "What?"

  "Never mind," I said. He'd already made it to the party.

  A bald headed guy that I assumed was Frankie's brother stuck his head out as well. He caught my eye, winked, then grabbed Frankie in a playful headlock and dragged him back to the party.

  "Gird your loins," I said to no one in particular. "The South Town gang is at it again."

  The colonel wound an arm around his wife's shoulders. "They like to stick to the dance hall."

  "And here I thought that was the kitchen," I said dryly.

  "What you see must be very new," Mary reminded me.

  Right.

  "So no more damage?" Ellis asked, joining me.

  The colonel gave a wry smile. "Perhaps a trick or two every once in a while, to remind you we're here."

  "We should do something special for you and Annabelle," I said, nudging Ellis. "We know you were here first. Ellis could spare the table. We could display a picture of the Rough Rider with his war horse, maybe add a plate of carrots every now and again or encourage patrons to leave apples behind.

  "We'd like that very much," the colonel said, nodding farewell as Ellis very gallantly slipped my arm into his and led me away.

  "I'm going to tell my brother how you helped," he said, drawing me close, "that I know what you're really like."

  "Please don't." I leaned into him. "Your good opinion is enough."

  What we had was fragile, special. I didn't want to let others force their views on it.

  Truth be told, I'd really like to kiss him again.

  He stopped and I turned to face him.

  "How's your sister?" he asked.

  I had to smile at that. "Good. She's just hoping we don't go on a jewel hunt."

  He grinned. "Maybe we'll find them. Harry and I still have a lot to do around here."

  I felt bad at the mention of Harry. "I'm sorry I suspected him."

  Ellis grew serious. "I'm not. You say what you think. It's refreshing. And you know, we never did get around to our dinner."

  "I fell off a cliff instead," I told him. "I promise, I didn't do it so I could avoid you."

  "No," he grinned. "You followed me home." He took my hands in his. His grip felt warm, safe. "You want to try again?"

  The promise of a fresh scandal brewed. Of course, I jumped in with both feet. "I'd like that."

  He relaxed, as if he'd been worried I'd say 'no.' I probably should have. "I'll pick you up tonight at six."

  "Good. That'll give me plenty of time with Lucy." I'd been neglecting that skunk lately.

  Ellis smiled. "Just leave her at home this time. I'm not sure I can find a skunk-friendly restaurant in this town."

  "Okay, but you'll owe her one," I teased.

  "I'll see if I can find some skunk treats," Ellis promised. Little did he know, Lucy would hold him to it.

  I couldn't help but smile. I had my health, my house, and a date with a most unusual man.

  I couldn't ask for anything more.

  -THE END-

  Okay, warm fuzzy time. I have to say how much I appreciate you reading my book. It's a dream come true to write for a living and Southern Spirits was a pure joy to write. I'm excited to report that I'll be continuing the series for at least five more books. If you'd like an email on the day the next book releases, click the link to sign up for new release updates.

  Thanks!

  Angie

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  About the Author

  New York Times bestselling author Angie Fox writes sweet, fun, action-packed mysteries. Her characters are clever and fearless, but in real life, Angie is afraid of basements, bees, going up stairs when it's all dark behind her, and (her friends have way too much fun with this one) puppets.

  Angie earned a Journalism degree from the University of Missouri. During that time, she also skipped class for an entire week so she could read Anne Rice's vampire series straight through. Angie has always loved books and is shocked, honored and tickled pink that she now gets to write books for a living. Although, she did skip writing for a week this past fall so she could read Victoria Laurie's Abby Cooper psychic eye mysteries straight through.

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