Cozy Mystery Ghost Story Collection: The Complete Shannon Porter Mystery Series

by Haley Harper

  "I feel like we're in high school again," Karen said with a giggle.

  "We'll regret it in the morning, but it's going to taste so good tonight," Shannon agreed.

  As they waited to check out, a voice behind them said, "Fancy meeting the two of you here."

  The women turned to find Calvin Moore behind them. Shannon couldn't help but think how good he looked in jeans, a black pea coat, thin rimmed glasses, and a ski cap pulled low over his ears. She flushed, and looked away. Not that he'd been looking at her to begin with, she chided herself. He clearly only had eyes for Karen. She forced a smile on to her face.

  "What are you doing out on this cold night?" He now looked between the two women, favoring each with a smile.

  "Getting provisions," Karen said, holding up the junk that was loaded in her arms.

  "We spent the day doing renovations, demolition, that kind of thing," Shannon said too quickly. She felt the pathological need for him to think well of her pushing against her chest. What the heck? she wondered. The jealousy, the neediness, the blushing. None of it was like her at all. Maybe there really was something special about this guy that her brain and her heart were trying to alert her to. She'd have to pay better attention.

  "Wow, that sounds pretty heavy. If I'd been doing that all day, I would be passed out by now." Calvin lifted an eyebrow, and grinned.

  "We found a great stash in the room me demoed," Karen said, setting her items on the counter. "Boxes and boxes of stuff left in an old closet. I'm hoping it will give me some answers about my grandfather."

  Shannon bit her lip, and frowned at her friend. She'd always thought that Karen over-shared with strangers. Perhaps these two had been closer in college, but she kind of doubted it given Karen's response at the café the night before. But she figured there wasn't much about that story that the locals didn't already know, so she bit down harder on her lip, and tried to ignore the unease in her gut.

  "My granddad told me stories about him. Still no news, huh?"

  "So your grandpa did know mine? He didn't really elaborate last night. I mean, I know he said he knew him, but that could mean anything. They could have gone to school together. Do you think they were friends?" Karen's words rushed out so quickly that her face flushed from the lack of breath between thoughts.

  Calvin chuckled. "I'll ask him when I get home. Why don't you give me your number and I'll call you later? My granddad is a little crotchety at times so it's usually better if someone in the family asks him things about his past. It's not a subject he talks about openly. Three failed marriages does that to a person, I guess."

  Shannon watched as the two exchanged numbers, and turned away to keep her jealousy in check. She paid for their dinner, but she was no longer hungry. Confusion joined the myriad other emotions jumping around in her heart. She was acting like a preteen girl, not a grown woman. Her mother's advice nudged itself into her mind. Maybe she did spend too much time in fictional worlds. Maybe she did need a more active social life. When she got home, she'd definitely try harder to get out more. At the least she'd meet some new people, make some new friends. At best she'd meet a guy. Satisfied with her new plan she grabbed the bag of groceries, and stepped out into the quiet night to wait for her friend.

  Speaking of her mother, she wondered where the other woman was, and whether or not Calvin knew that his grandfather was being pursued. That thought was enough to make her grimace and smirk in quick succession.

  When Karen and Calvin came out they were laughing, and Shannon waited for the twinge of envy to surge, but apparently her little bout of self talk had helped her quell that strange emotion. Instead she just felt tired, like she could sleep for a solid twenty-four hours and it wouldn't take the edge off the exhaustion. Calvin walked them back to the house.

  "It's only a block out of my way. I'd be thrilled to see it."

  After Karen got through an exhaustive list of reno projects left to be done, Calvin turned to Shannon and said, "So you write books, huh? Have I heard of any of them?"

  She groaned inwardly. One of the worst questions to ask an author was, essentially, if they were famous enough to be heard of by the average person. "Maybe. I wrote the Murder and Mayhem series of mysteries."

  His eyes bugged out for only a second but she knew he recognized the titles. Not everyone did, but a select group of mystery and ghost story aficionados definitely enjoyed them. He seemed about to say something else, and Shannon had the perverse desire to bask in his attention just a second longer, but Karen grabbed her arm. Pulling her up the stairs, Karen said, "Call me later if your granddad remembers anything. Thanks."

  Shannon smiled to herself as they stumbled into the front door, laden with their food. Karen's reaction told her that the other woman felt the same pull of attraction for Calvin that she did. She wanted to tell her friend that there was no competition, but she couldn't get the words to sound right in her head so she kept quiet. She tried not to speak without thinking through exactly what she wanted to say.

  "We should make dinner," Shannon said at last. "And get those boxes open. I'm dying to know what's inside. I sort of want to do it before my mom gets back from wherever she is.”

  Karen smiled in agreement, and the tension over Calvin was quickly forgotten. After they'd gotten the pizzas in the oven, spread the junk food over the living room coffee table, and lit a fire, they each pulled a box up in front of them on the floor. Shannon could feel the excitement of the story pushing against her, pulling, tugging. She peeled the tape--decades old from the looks of it--off the top of the box, and pulled back the flaps. Inside was a hodgepodge of items. The first thing she pulled out was an old photograph, the kind where everyone had to stay still forever so the picture turned out right, and no one smiled. The man seated in the center had a gruff look of a mountain man turned gentleman. A woman in a high necked, stiff looking dress stood just behind his left shoulder, her hands folded delicately in front of her. Seated on the man's lap was a little girl, no more than eight or nine, two plaits pulled the hair back from her forehead severely, but a hint of a smile played about her lips, giving her a mischievous look.

  Turning the photo over she gasped in delight. "Look, Kare, it's Eleanor and her parents." She passed the picture to her friend.

  "Oh my gosh," Karen said in a breathy, quiet voice.

  The two of them returned to digging through the boxes. Most of the things in the boxes were keepsakes that might have value to the family, but didn't shed any light on the mystery of the gold mine or the disappearance of Karen's grandfather. Shannon found she did like holding the old ribbons and Bibles that must have been so important to the family as they carefully passed them down from one generation to the next. The history imbued in each item made her realize how much work would need to go into her new novel.

  She heard the oven timer ding, and was just about to get up to remove the pizzas when a slim diary like book caught her eye. She pulled it out, examining the rough bound leather cover. Turning to the first page she was startled to read: Murder, Mayhem, and Misunderstanding: The treacherous history of Keystone, South Dakota.

  The resemblance to her book series title made her stomach clench. Normally she wasn't a big believer in fate, but it seemed a bit serendipitous that she was here searching for a new story idea and this book fell into her hands. She itched to turn the pages to see what the book contained, but she was interrupted by Karen's voice.

  "Dinner!"

  Grabbing a paper plate, Shannon dropped two steaming pieces of cheese pizza onto it before loading up with other junk. When they were seated opposite each other on the sofa, Karen asked, "Did you find anything good besides the picture?"

  "A diary. What about you?"

  "Just some old paperwork. Looks like it's all from the nineteen-thirties. Wrong era for either mystery." Karen sighed. "Where's the diary?"

  "By the box," Shannon replied through a mouthful of pizza. She was slightly disappointed that she wouldn't be the first person to read the wo
rds contained in the tiny volume, but she consoled herself that she'd have plenty of time to uncover its' secrets anyway.

  Just as Karen picked up the book, a sheet of folded paper fell from the depths of the pages. It landed silently on the floor where it rested for a second before Karen grabbed it up. She unfolded it carefully before wiping a greasy hand on her jeans. Shannon watched curiously.

  "Oh my gosh." Karen's eyes got huge as she stared at the page. "Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh."

  "What?" Shannon demanded. "What is it?"

  "Oh my gosh." Karen turned her gaze toward Shannon. "It's the deed."

  "The deed?" She felt her breath hitch as her friend handed her the paper with a trembling hand.

  "The deed to the Fancy Free. It's been here all along."

  Chapter Four:

  The scream rang out through the night air, and Shannon sat bolt upright in her bed. Visions of women in white chasing people through never ending hallways sat in the forefront of her mind and she squeezed her eyes shut to rid herself of the last remnants of the nightmare.

  Another scream, but this one sounded less blood curdling so Shannon took her time climbing out of bed. She recognized this pattern so she was fairly certain she didn’t have anything to rush to. Karen on the other hand was already running toward the noise. Shannon could hear her friend’s footsteps clattering down the hall.

  Padding in the direction of the other guest room, Shannon entered to see Karen hugging Myra, who had a look of sheer terror on her face. Even though she suspected her mother of acting a part for their host’s benefit, the wide eyed stare made Shannon a little nervous.

  “Mom? What happened?”

  Myra clasped Karen’s hands between her own, threw back her head, and dramatically said, “I saw a ghost.”

  Shannon closed her eyes and did some silent counting. Ever since the Murder and Mayhem books had taken off, Myra had been trying to insinuate herself into Shannon’s research trips. This one had been no different, but since her mother had practically help raise Karen, she hadn’t seen the harm. She should have known this would happen.

  “Mother, there are no ghosts in this house,” Shannon said in her most parental tone. At times like these she found it was best to reverse the roles they normally played.

  Her mom looked straight at her and shook her head, a look of supreme disappointment on her face. “I thought I had taught you better than that.”

  “What are you talking about, Mom?” she said in a huff. “It’s two-thirty in the morning. Can’t this nonsense wait until morning.”

  Myra sighed. “I thought that with all your research you would have come to be sensitive enough to the spirit world that you would have had a sighting of your own by now.”

  Karen looked between the two women, obviously confused. “What’re you talking about?”

  Shannon rolled her eyes, and muttered, “Here we go.”

  “Ever since Clairy-bear left for college I have been having…sightings. And visions. I’ve been able to contact those dear departed souls that have left us for the other side.”

  Karen raised an eyebrow, and Shannon shrugged feeling helpless. Myra continued, “I know it sounds hard to believe, but you see I have rediscovered the power of the spiritualism movement of the early twentieth century. That was a grand time for mediums like myself. People would pay big money for séances and things like that. Today people like me are forced to trot themselves out as ghost hunters. Such a vulgar term if you think about it. Conveys so much focus on violence. Not how I want to live my life, but such as it is.”

  “Wow,” Karen said obviously trying to keep the doubt from her voice. “That sounds exciting.”

  “Oh, it is, dear. It is. I’ve had to get my ghost hunter license, of course. To stay relevant.”

  “Of course,” Karen echoed, looking at Shannon for help. Shannon mouthed that she had gotten herself in and she could dig herself out.

  “Shannon has never had the opportunity to have a sighting or visitation of her own. I just assumed that with all the research and writing she does, the spirits would be attracted to her. She could be a vessel for their messages.”

  “I don’t want to be a vessel.”

  “Of course you do, dear,” Myra contradicted smoothly. “Just think of the authenticity it would bring to your books.”

  Shannon stared at her mother. She’d had this conversation so many times she couldn’t even count them, and yet each time it felt like she’d been transported to another planet. “My books have plenty of authenticity. I use lots of legends and ghost stories, and plenty of local history. Each one is meticulously researched, you know that. None of my readers complain.”

  “Nor do I, dear. Nor do I.” Her mother reached out and patted her arm.

  “So why were you screaming? You said you saw a ghost? Was it some kind of bad spirit or something?” Karen looked mildly uncomfortable as she was biting her lower lip and glancing around the room. Shannon couldn’t believe that her best friend bought into this nonsense.

  “Oh heavens, no. He just startled me, that’s all. Do you have any idea how daunting it can be to have a silent, transparent man appear at the foot of your bed in the dead of night?”

  Karen shook her head. “No, I can only imagine.”

  Myra sniffed. “I’m surprised you haven’t had an encounter, Karen dear. It is your house after all. And I believe the man was your grandfather.”

  “Okay, that’s enough, Mom,” Shannon said, disrupting any further proceedings. The last thing her best friend needed after the emotional upheaval of finding the deed, but no real answers about her grandfather’s disappearance, was her mother telling tales. “I think we all need to get back to bed. We had a long day of demolition, and tomorrow Karen has to contact her lawyer about the deed.”

  “Deed? What deed? I thought this house had been left to you outright. Isn’t that what your mother left in her will?” Myra had dropped the pseudo-dramatic look she wore when she talked about her ghost hunting shenanigans, and for that Shannon was glad, but the older woman now looked as if she’d devour any gossip hungrily.

  Karen sighed, and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I can’t believe we didn’t tell you—“

  “She wasn’t here when we went to bed,” Shannon interrupted. “Don’t forget to tell us what you were doing, Mother dear.”

  “Anyway,” Karen said in a pointed way with a sharp glance in her direction. “We found the deed to my family’s gold mine, the Fancy Free.”

  “Oh my, how exciting! Perhaps that’s why your grandfather appeared to me tonight.” Myra looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing, “Amos was telling me about all the gold in the area. He is a fount of knowledge. You should really talk to him, Shannon. You might learn something you can’t find in a book or an archive. I mean, did you know Amos was one of the first to work on the blasting crew at the Crazy Horse monument. He was too young to help with Mount Rushmore, but he said that the use of dynamite fascinated him, and—“

  “Why are we talking about Amos?” Shannon interrupted. “Is that where you were all night? With Amos? Mother, he’s so old.”

  Myra made a disapproving sound and shook her head. “He’s a gentleman, and so interesting. Besides his age lends him a maturity I don’t find in men my own age.”

  Shannon just shook her head in mock frustration. Her mother’s antics always amused her friends, and since her last divorce she’d been dating men older and younger than herself, so she knew she shouldn’t be surprised.

  “Myra, do you think you could talk to Amos for me? Maybe he knows something about what happened to my grandfather. I know he won’t talk to me, no matter what Calvin says, but…this is so important to me. Please?” Karen’s voice cracked as she scooted closer to Myra.

  “Of course I’ll talk to him, dear girl. Though I think I’ll have more luck with your grandfather’s ghost.”

  “Okay, that’s enough of that. Good night, Mom. We’ll see you in the morning.” Shannon kissed
her mother’s cheek, grabbed her friend’s hand, and pulled her into the hallway. “I’m truly sorry. She’s a nutcase. You know that. Go get some sleep. You have a whole new adventure starting tomorrow when you call your lawyer to tell him about the deed.”

  “I have a feeling everything is about to spiral out of control,” Karen said softly, still biting her lip.

  Chapter Five:

  The next few days were a blur as all kinds of people descended on the house. Lawyers were consulted, curiosity seekers were everywhere and the local press got hold of the story. Somehow it made it into the larger regional paper, and by the weekend there were dozens of reporters milling around the front lawn, seemingly oblivious to the sub-zero temperatures. Karen’s brother Jack and her sister Lucy who hadn’t been home even for their mother’s funeral were suddenly on the scene. In order to accommodate them and some of the other people who were staying overnight, Shannon had moved in to Karen's room, where she was crashing in a sleeping bag. Karen had offered to give up her own bed, but there hadn't been any sense in that since Shannon could have just as easily gone to a hotel. The town was rife with unused rooms at this time of year. She didn't want to leave, though. She wanted to be in the center of all the activity. Before the chaos had started, she'd managed to slip the diary into her purse so she could examine it later.

  While the rest of the boxes hadn't turned up anything nearly as interesting, the two women had sifted through them all. Karen had collected what she felt were the most important items, and hidden them in her closet. The irony of that wasn't lost on Shannon, and she wondered again about the person who had tucked them all away originally. To her it seemed obvious that it had been done to hide the deed, but then again, when was life really that simple?

  Myra had flitted in and out of the house, visiting with people on occasion, but mainly staying out, presumably with Amos. She hadn’t reported anymore ghost sightings, so Shannon had to assume that the old man was proving to be sufficiently interesting.