Honeysuckle Haunting

by Amy Boyles

  “No. I don’t have anything.”

  She clicked her tongue. “Do you want your job back?”

  I needed answers. “Anita, do you have access to my dad’s files on Lucky?”

  “Of course. They did trust me with those when I took his job, you know?”

  “Can you forward to me what he knew about Lucky? You know, because it might help me catch him.”

  She paused. I just knew her gears were grinding. Why does Blissful need these files? What’s she going to do with them? Will my career be harmed by giving them to her?

  Yep, that was pretty much the whole point.

  No, not really. The whole point was that I needed to find out how much of what Lucky said was true. Lucky Strike was a violent ghost who had interacted with the human world in ways that led to trouble. He was personally responsible for a blackout that wiped out the power in the Southeastern United States.

  The guy was trouble. Just because he’d given me some sob story didn’t mean I would simply take his word for it. I needed proof.

  “I can get you what I’ve got on him,” Anita said.

  “You will?” Shocking.

  “I’ll have it sent…where?”

  I gave her the address. “See, Anita? I’m still here. I’m still working on this case, even if it is taking me longer than I anticipated.”

  “Good to know. We miss you here, Blissful.”

  Doubtful. But whatever, who didn’t mind being missed, even if it was by the wrong person?

  Wait. Maybe I’d reconsider that statement at another time, like when I actually gave a rat’s behind enough to focus on it.

  I hung up the phone and was about to toss it on my bed when it rang again. “Sheesh. What is this? Grand Central Station?”

  I glanced at the number and realized I wouldn’t mind taking this call. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Blissful. Is this a good time?”

  Roan. My heart seized. I opened my mouth to speak, but the best I managed was a croak. “Yes.”

  “Are you okay? You didn’t catch anything from the cool air last night, did you?”

  Well, I didn’t catch your kiss, if that’s what you’re asking. I cleared my throat so hard I was pretty sure I sounded like my esophagus had flipped inside out.

  “I’m fine. Just a frog in my throat. How’re you? Holding down the bed-and-breakfast okay? No one’s tried to sleep and run on you, have they?”

  “Not since you were last here, no.”

  “Ha-ha. I told you that ghost kid kept stealing my wallet.”

  “So you said. But you know, I have a hard time believing that ghosts can steal things.”

  I wanted to strangle Roan through the phone. “You watched one make an object float.”

  “Floating is one thing. Stealing is another. Where are they going to put it?”

  “In the ghost world.” I threw up my hands. “I don’t know. I’m not a scientist. Why don’t you offer them some cinnamon bread and watch it disappear as they ghost-eat it.”

  “Tempting. But no. Listen, I didn’t call to work you up into an argument, though this is the most fun I’ve had all day.”

  “You didn’t?”

  I sank onto the couch. If I didn’t watch it, Roan would have me so full of spit and more spit that I’d never be able to unwind.

  “No, I was calling to see if you had plans tonight. I thought you might like to go out again, but this time actually be able to hear each other?”

  “Listen, I had a great time competing with the jazz band. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He laughed. “So anyway, I was thinking maybe we take a walk. You know town is usually pretty quiet. Then maybe catch some dinner?”

  “Sure. What time?”

  “How does five sound?”

  I checked the clock. That gave me a few hours to rest up. “Five is great.”

  “I’ll pick you up then.”

  When Roan arrived a few hours later, I was showered, dressed and smelling great. Not like flowers or anything, but more like vanilla and cream. Good enough to eat.

  Wait. I didn’t want Roan to think that. I wanted to smell pretty but not like food.

  His hands were shoved into his pockets when I opened the door. His smile lit his entire face, and honestly it was contagious. I grinned back.

  “Hey.” His voice was husky.

  I tried to match it. “Hey.” But I sounded squeaky.

  He didn’t seem to notice. I locked the house. “So where are we off to?”

  “I thought we’d go to the park. There’s a fountain. You can feed the fish or stare at them evilly. I thought you might like that.”

  I laughed. “Yes, I love staring at fish. Come on.”

  He offered his arm, and I took it. My heart raced as I slid my hand through the loop of his elbow. Simply touching him made me feel very small, very insignificant, like I was a different person. I guess that’s the kind of power romance can have—just enough to make you feel like a mouse, but at the same time you’re bestowed with the heart of a lion.

  Or maybe it was just me.

  We wove toward downtown and the park. I don’t even know what we talked about, but Roan had me giggling the entire way. It was completely ridiculous and totally against my hard-edged persona. Giggles and laughter? Normally I’d rather gouge my eye with a spoon.

  But not with Roan.

  Le sigh. I had it bad.

  “I’ve decided to forgive you.”

  I glanced over. Susan glided beside me. “I know that guy has the answer to who killed me.”

  I hated to tell her that Neal had backed out of his promise.

  “What’s going on over there?” Roan nodded toward a podium.

  A crowd of folks had gathered around a small lit-up space. “I don’t know.”

  Roan leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Want to hijack it?” His breath tickled my skin. A surge of electricity snaked down my neck.

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  We reached the small crowd as a voice rang out. “I will not be intimidated by the people of this town.”

  Neal Norton poked the air with authority. “I have information that will solve the case of who killed Susan Whitby, and I’ll be darned if I let anyone steamroll me.”

  “Tell us, brother,” a man called.

  I wanted to crumple to the ground. There was no stopping Neal now. My gaze darted around the crowd. Ruth and Alice were there. Actually, Ruth was holding Alice by the belt, yanking her in a way that suggested Alice was about to topple to the ground.

  I knew the feeling.

  “So tonight, I’m here to tell you that the person who murdered Susan Whitby was—”

  I held my breath. My hand tightened on Roan’s arm. Alice’s face turned green.

  Neal gagged. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “Excuse me. The person who killed Susan Whitby was—”

  He gagged again. But this time Neal stumbled backward, straight into a honeysuckle bush.

  The crowd gasped, but no one moved to help him. I tugged Roan. “Come on.”

  We pushed through the crowd. Roan’s build and height were definitely a plus. As soon as folks felt him towering above them, they instinctively parted like a knife through peanut butter.

  Neal lay in the bush, his arms and legs straight out in front of him. Blood gurgled from his mouth, trickling onto the branches. His chest heaved and line of blood torpedoed from his mouth.

  “Ah!” I jumped back.

  Neal slumped over with his eyes open wide. I pressed a hand to his neck. There was no pulse.

  I turned to Roan. “He’s dead.”

  Roan yanked off his jacket and draped it over Neal’s body. “Call the police.”

  I yanked my phone from my pocket. That was when I saw it. Neal’s spirit lifted from his body and walked into the honeysuckle bush.

  We were crowded in, but if I wanted to know what had happened to him, I needed to talk to his spirit, so I followed Neal.


  FOUR

  I quickly dialed an ambulance and put in the call, but the entire time I stalked Neal Norton’s spirit.

  The apparition walked through the bush and stood on the other side as if he was waiting for the church bus to pick him up and deliver him to heaven.

  Sorry, guy, but no bus was coming.

  I glanced over my shoulder. The crowd buzzed around Neal’s body, yelling for help. A couple of people screamed. There were always screamers, it seemed.

  I sidled up beside ghostly Neal. “You okay?”

  He did a double take and frowned. “Do I know you?”

  I kept my voice low. “I talked to you this morning. You said you weren’t going to reveal the killer.”

  His eyebrows shot to peaks. “Right. I remember that now. Where am I?”

  “Funny thing about that. You’re dead.”

  He stopped, and then his face cracked into a wide smile. “You’re very funny.”

  “I wish I was,” I said flatly. “But you are. Take a look at yourself.”

  “Do you have a mirror?”

  I glanced over my shoulder. “At your limbs. Your arms and legs.”

  Neal extended one arm, then the other. He bent and checked on one leg, then the other. “I appear to be see-through.”

  “Yes. Listen…” I stepped forward. The crowd was getting louder, and I didn’t know how much time I had before the light would reveal itself and Neal would be whisked away. “What happened back there?”

  “Hmm?” Neal’s limbs had transfixed him. He kept staring as if he was waiting for them to grow longer or even more translucent.

  “What killed you?”

  Neal dragged his gaze to me. “Oh no. I’m healthy as a young buck.”

  He wasn’t exactly young. Well, not anymore. “So what was it?”

  “Someone gave me a drink. It tasted strange. There was something off about it.”

  “Poison.” The realization flared in my head. “You were poisoned?”

  “Yes, that sounds about right.”

  He turned away and started walking as if he was going to stroll through the park. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was looking. “Wait.”

  Neal turned. “Yes?”

  “Well? Who did it? Who killed Susan Whitby?”

  He opened his mouth as a siren split the air. The ambulance. My gaze drifted to the red flashing lights as the vehicle rumbled down the street and screeched to a halt.

  My gaze flickered back to where Neal had been standing.

  The spirit was gone.

  FIVE

  “So you okay?” Roan said.

  “I’m okay.”

  We watched the ambulance drive Neal away.

  The police had arrived, of course. We’d given brief statements, and I’d kept the poisoning information to myself. No point in having Kency Blount grill me on how I knew that.

  Roan shoved his hands in his pockets. “Want me to walk you home?”

  “That would be great.” The whole murder thing had really dampened the night’s potential.

  Neither of us spoke on the short walk to my house. When we reached the porch, I turned to Roan.

  “Thanks for taking me out. Too bad it ended the way it did.”

  “Yeah.” His gaze darted to the side. “So’d you talk to Neal’s spirit?”

  My jaw dropped. “What would make you say that?”

  “Perhaps the fact that you walked to the side of the yard and stared out as if you were watching a boat come in.”

  “Was I that obvious?”

  “Only to those of us who are aware of your superhuman powers of clairvoyance.”

  “Wow. That was a lot of wordage.”

  He winked. “You like that? I know a few words. I’ve been studying a thesaurus.”

  I muffled my laughter, as I should have since we were discussing murder. “Yes. I talked to him.”

  “What’d he say?”

  I licked my lips. It was one thing for me to speak with a spirit. I tended to believe what they said as long as the ghost wasn’t lying. You never knew. Spirits could be just as sneaky and malevolent in death as they were in life. But I didn’t think Neal was either.

  “He’d been poisoned.”

  Roan’s eyes narrowed. “Poisoned? Wow. If it’s true, hopefully the police will figure it out.” He nudged me with his elbow. “Unless you want to tell them.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ha. Wow. Your sarcasm rivals mine.”

  His face cracked into a smile. “I could probably be persuaded to be less sarcastic…if you told Kency what you know.”

  I balked. “Doubtful. But anyway…um, Neal didn’t know who did it.”

  “Chicken.”

  I scoffed. “I’m not a chicken. If it was poison, the police will figure it out.” He watched me in disbelief. “Listen, if I approach Kency Blount and start spouting off about poison, she’s going to think I did it.”

  “Maybe,” he said lightly.

  “I don’t need a guilt trip. Like I said, Neal didn’t know who murdered him. Anyway, I tried to get him to reveal who killed Susan Whitby.”

  “Much more important.”

  I ignored his insinuation. “But the ambulance appeared and his spirit left.”

  “Did he go into the light?”

  “I didn’t see the light.”

  He placed the back of his hand on my forehead. “Are you feeling well? Don’t you see the light and help spirits transition there?”

  I pulled back. “This is the problem with telling people about yourself; they think you’re crazy.”

  The spark in Roan’s eyes died. “I apologize. Blissful Breneaux”—a chill swept through my spine as my name left his lips—“the last thing I think you are is crazy. Small, yes. Spitfire, yes. Emotionally complicated, definitely. Crazy?” He shook his head. “No way. So let me retrace my steps. So Neal didn’t have a chance to tell you who killed Susan. And now he’s been poisoned.”

  “Right. He was murdered, Roan.”

  Dots connected in my mind like neurons linking one thought to the next. “Neal said he was poisoned. He was murdered. Do you think whoever killed Susan Whitby was so worried that they’d be outed that they killed Neal?”

  Roan’s eyes rounded. “Whoa. I think whatever is going through your mind needs to settle.” He squeezed my shoulders. “This is a job for the police, not for you. You’re a civilian.”

  “But I could help them.”

  “Now you want to help them.”

  I chewed the inside of my mouth. I hadn’t seen the light. So Neal was probably still around, which meant I had to find him.

  “Okay, well, thanks. I had a great time tonight.” I had to get in my house. I had to figure out what to do next.

  I had to contact Alice and Ruth. They’d been there when Neal died. They’d seen what happened.

  Roan backed up. “So I’ll see you around?”

  Oh no. I suddenly realized we were at the end of our date and in the exact same spot we’d been in just the day before—about to kiss.

  My eyes flickered to his lips. Roan took a step toward me. I tipped my face toward his. Energy buoyed between us. It practically crackled in my ear.

  His eyes darkened and my head felt light, like I was floating. Our lips were about to touch…

  “That guy died! The one I needed!”

  “Ah,” I shrieked.

  Susan popped up beside me. I shot her a look that would’ve barbecued her if she’d been alive.

  Roan glanced around. “You okay?”

  I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Fine. Just a bothersome spirit. They like to appear when things are just getting interesting.”

  Roan nodded. “Look, I’ll see you later.”

  I waved. “Bye.”

  He whistled as he walked down the steps.

  “He didn’t ask you out again.”

  I could kill Susan.

  I shoved my key in the lock and pushed the door open. Once we were inside, I turn
ed on her. “Thanks for ruining my kiss.”

  “You were supposed to find out who killed me.”

  I threw up my hands. “He died!”

  “Do you always have imaginary conversations with yourself?”

  The voice came from the kitchen. I dropped my purse on the couch and peered down the hall. “Ruth?”

  “We’re in here. Brought some more shortbread. You’d better get in here if you want any of it. Alice is stress eating.”

  I glared at Susan, who disappeared with the wave of a hand. That was the problem with spirits, they could appear and disappear on a whim. The worst was in the morning when I stood on the scale. To have a spirit glance at the number and say something like, You shouldn’t have eaten that Goo-Goo Cluster yesterday, is enough to make me want to punch someone in the face.

  Speaking of faces, Alice’s was covered in chocolate and shortbread crumbs. Her curly hair poked around her head, and her eyes held a wild, crazed look.

  “Is everything okay?” I said it slowly like I was trying to make sure a lion wasn’t going to lunge at my throat.

  “I reckon it isn’t,” Ruth said, sliding a cup of coffee toward me.

  “I love how the two of you broke into my house and made coffee.”

  “It was unlocked,” Alice mumbled. A large crumb fell from her mouth. She wasted no time gobbling it up.

  It was horrifying to watch. I focused on Ruth. “What’s going on?”

  “That man was murdered,” Ruth said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Alice chirped. “He was about to reveal the killer, and then he’s offed. It was so obvious. Even a dummy would know it.”

  I decided not to be offended that she’d just called me a dummy because Alice was about to overdose on sugar. “You’re right. He told me so himself.”

  Alice rapid fire blinked. “Did he know who did it? Who killed him?”

  “No. Said he was poisoned. That’s all I got out of him.” I raised my hand. “And before you ask, I also didn’t discover who killed Susan. He disappeared.”

  Alice moaned. She dropped her head in her hands. “I’m finished! It’s over. I’m going to the clinker. Ruth, you’ll have to bring me cookies. Or a cake with a nail file so I can escape.”