Murder Ghost Foul: The Complete Mystic Springs Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series

by Mona Marple

  I try to force a smile.

  I drift off to sleep back in the living room, leaving Atticus and Patton to talk about the case and devise a strategy. I’m sulking, I know that, and I know that my foiled plans for date night don’t make me the victim in this situation… but I still kind of feel like the victim.

  I’m thrown out of my dreams by a chill that runs across me, and I jump up to a sitting position on the couch. The front door of the Baker house has burst wide open, and a gale is blowing its way inside, even though the living room door is closed.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  Patton silences me with a look and goes to the living room door, and pulls it open with a determined yank.

  A tall, regal spirit stands before Patton, his hair white, forehead dabbled with liver spots, fatty bags under his dark eyes. He wears a blazer, shirt and bow tie, and is missing his left hand.

  “May I enter, fine chap?” He asks, fixing a broad smile towards Patton.

  “You are?”

  “Wilson Bruiser, the one and only! Heard my name being mentioned around town, thought I’d come and say hallo.” He says. He notices me and makes a beeline for me, planting himself next to me on the couch and holding out his one hand. “Well, hallo indeed.”

  “Why are you faking a British accent?” I ask.

  He descends into a laughter that is as much spluttering coughs as actual laughs. “I say, you’re a sharp lassie!”

  “Now Scottish?” I ask. “Where are you from?”

  “A bit of everywhere, so I am.”

  “Irish? This is getting tiresome.” I complain, although there’s something quite captivating about him for an older man.

  “Forgive me, it’s been too long since I socialised with a beautiful woman.”

  “What are you here for?” Patton barks across at him as he returns to a couch. I sit back and smile. Two men fighting over me was always one of my favourite things to watch; better than any TV show.

  “Haven’t you heard? The locals have become obsessed with me. I thought they’d like to meet the man, the myth, the legend.”

  “Modest, then?” Patton asks.

  “I see no need for modesty. Perhaps you wouldn’t if you were as fine a specimen as I am. Now, let me take the name of my new lady friend.”

  “I’m Sage. Sage Shaw.” I say. “And this is Patton Davey, he was the Sheriff.”

  “A rule follower, then? Makes sense. I’m more of a maverick.”

  “Is that right.” Patton mumbles.

  Atticus appears then and I yawn as the men make the introductions again.

  “A woman found my journal.” Wilson says. “I was the founder of Mystic Springs, I documented it all.”

  “No, you weren’t. The founder of Mystic Springs was a woman, in an all-woman group. Lavinia Blackbottom.”

  “Lavinia, yes, I remember the old cow.” He says. “She was obsessed with me! They all were, of course, but she was the worst. Insufferable. Wouldn’t give me a minute’s peace.”

  “You knew Lavinia?” Atticus asks. He’s deep in thought, pacing the room.

  “Of course I did, she was one of my helpers.”

  “That’s not the story we all know.” Patton says.

  “Doesn’t surprise me, she was a terrible attention seeker. But I wrote it all down, in a journal. I buried it out of town so those witches couldn’t steal it.”

  “Hold on.” I say. “Do you know the name of the woman who found it?”

  “Shabley, I think. That’s what I’ve heard.”

  “Oh, God.” I groan.

  “What, dear girl? You’re too beautiful to be sad. Here, sit closer.”

  “Emelza Shabley was killed tonight.”

  “Oh!” Wilson says. “How exciting! Nothing like that happened in my day, worse luck.”

  “It’s not exciting.” Patton says, with a look towards Wilson’s missing hand. “And it looks like it wasn’t all peace and quiet in your day.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a rotter! And yes, yes, good point! You should have seen the state of the other men!”

  “Men, plural?”

  “A whole army of them! I showed them. Now, Sage, what do you say? Fancy showing me to a bedroom?”

  I feel myself blush at his proposition, which is strange because I’m no stranger to them. “There’s no way you’re getting me anywhere near a bedroom.”

  “Your loss.” He says with a grin and a shrug of his broad shoulders.

  In the morning, there’s no sign of Wilson Bruiser and I’m surprised to realise that I feel disappointed. There was something exciting about him.

  Patton notices me looking distracted and I flash him a reassuring smile.

  “I’ll head across to the Morton house soon, want to come?”

  “Erm…” I say. “I should update Connie, really.”

  “Fine.” He says.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You fell asleep with that awful man draped all over you.” Patton says with a shake of his head. “I think you should keep away from him, Sage.”

  “Jealous?”

  “No! Why would I be? We’re only friends. You’re married, remember.” He says. Ouch, that hurts. Yes, I’m married, but only because there’s no way for ghosts to divorce. Choose a bad ‘un while you’re alive and you’re stuck with them for an eternal afterlife? I don’t think so! My husband isn’t a bad ‘un, though, just a fairly boring one. One lifetime was enough with him, thank you very much.

  “Sorry. That was uncalled for. Maybe I am a bit jealous.” Patton says.

  “Well, you’ve got no reason to be.” I say, although as he talks I’m comparing the steady lilt of his own American accent with the rollercoaster of dialects of Wilson.

  “Come on then, shall we walk together?”

  “I’m not ready yet.” I say, which is a blatant lie. “I’ll see you later.”

  Patton nods and gets up, leaves the house. I can see him float down the street, shoulders down, head bowed. I shouldn’t like it at all, this power I have over men, but it’s like there’s a flirtatious demon inside me who just can’t resist the thrill of a man’s attention.

  I sit back and close my eyes, picturing Wilson and Patton.

  There’s no competition, really.

  Patton’s a fine man, committed to his work. Honest, upstanding, and apparently interested in me and nobody else.

  No choice at all.

  I jump up and chase Patton as quick as I can.

  “Change your mind?” He asks with a tight smile.

  “I figure I can tell Connie after we see Taylor.”

  He nods.

  “Thank you.” I say.

  “What for?”

  “Looking out for me.”

  “That’s my job.” He says. Silence. Then, “I’m sorry for what I said, about you being married.”

  “Well, I am.”

  “I know, but I… I shouldn’t have raised it like that.”

  “Does it bother you?” I ask.

  “Of course not.” He says. “Although I wonder if it would bother your husband, you know, knowing that we’re friends like this.”

  “He’s moved on, just like I have.” I say.

  Patton gives me a real smile then, and his chiseled jaw makes my stomach flip.

  Connie has always said I’m boy mad. Boy mad, then man mad.

  As if it’s a bad thing.

  When there are men like Patton Davey around, why on Earth wouldn’t I be man mad?

  Taylor answers the door, and he looks more dead than I do.

  “What?”

  “You haven’t heard?” Patton asks. “Don’t you keep up to date when you’re off shift?”

  “I was in the hospital all night.”

  “I thought you were out of town?”

  “Should have been. One of the babies got ill, had to go to the emergency room. What’s happened?”

  “Oh, wow.” Patton says, and I guess he’s feeling like the worst person in the world
right now. “I’m sorry, everything okay?”

  “It’s going to be.”

  “Someone was killed last night.”

  “Argh.” Taylor says and runs his hands through his hair. “You’re kidding me. The one night I…”

  “It’s okay.” I soothe. “Don’t worry. We happened to be out there, we found the person, but whoever did it got away.”

  “Who’s the victim?”

  “We think it’s Emelza Shabley.”

  “The woman who found that journal?”

  Patton nods. “There’s only one waggon left across town and she was in it. I don’t know the woman but I think it must be her.”

  “Cause of death?”

  “Stabbed by some kind of dagger. EMTs came pretty quick from out of town.”

  “Who do they think called it in?”

  “I don’t know, that’s a good question.” Patton says. “I probably gave my name automatically, but I don’t remember for sure.”

  “Well, that doesn’t matter. You got there afterwards?”

  “We heard the scream.” I say. “Whoever did it must have disturbed her, she screamed, and then by the time we got across there, it was too late.”

  “Hmm.” Taylor says. “Where were you exactly? There’s nothing out there.”

  “We were -”

  “Walking. Walking in the field.” I say with a splutter.

  Taylor raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press the point. “You got there how quick after the scream?”

  “Seconds. Maybe five.” Patton says.

  “Something doesn’t add up.” Taylor says. “There’s nothing out there, it’s deserted. You say that’s the only waggon? So nobody around. But the person had gone within five seconds? Why would they go so fast?”

  “She screamed.” I repeat. “The person will be worried someone heard that scream.”

  “But five seconds, to stab someone, make sure they’re dead, and get away?”

  “Maybe my time isn’t exact, maybe it was more than five seconds.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What are you thinking, Sheriff?” Patton asks.

  “I’m not thinking anything clear yet. I need to go and bring my baby home from hospital, get him settled with Adele, and then I can try and wrap my head around this.”

  “Of course.”

  “If we can help…”

  “I’ll let you know.” Taylor says. “Thanks, for letting me know.”

  We take the cue and leave the house, looking glumly at each other until Taylor comes back to the front door.

  “Patton?” He calls.

  Patton turns to face him.

  “Good work, Sheriff.” Taylor says, and Patton’s chest inflates.

  Back at home, Connie sits at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of cocoa.

  She glares at me as soon as I close the door.

  “Where the hell have you been?” She shouts. “If you’re going to be staying under my roof, you need to tell me if you’re not coming home. I’ve been worried sick.”

  “Woah!” I exclaim. “Sorry, mom! First of all, I thought you were out last night? Second, your friend Adele’s baby is in hospital. And third, I discovered a dead body last night.”

  “A body? Who?”

  “Emelza Shabley. Someone stabbed her with some old dagger last night in her waggon.”

  “Last night? Lovey Lovegoode was going to see her last night. I heard it being arranged.”

  4

  Connie

  It comes as no surprise that Sage wants me to help her investigate.

  Less than five minutes after she’s wandered back in the house stinking of aftershave, she’s pleading with me to help her. And I’m in no mood to.

  She needs to learn to follow the rules and have some respect for someone other than herself. She treats this place like her home, and she treats me like her skivvy. It needs to change.

  I’ve been up since 7am enjoying the quiet, and my thoughts kept coming back to how she takes advantage of my good nature. And how it has to stop.

  “Don’t glare at me like that.” She says. I didn’t know I was glaring, but she’s probably right.

  “I’m not getting involved, Sage. And you shouldn’t either.”

  “I kind of already am involved.” She says, like a petulant teenager.

  “And I don’t even want to know how you got involved, being out in a field with a man after dark.”

  “Oh, lighten up. You should go out in a field with a man after dark yourself, it might make you a bit less serious. In fact, there’s an eligible bachelor just arrived in town. He’s dead, but I wouldn’t kick him out of bed. Wilson Bruiser. What a name.”

  “Wilson Bruiser?” I ask. “He’s the man named in the journal that Emelza found. When did he turn up?”

  “Late last night, he was at the Baker house making moves on me.”

  “Oh Sage, not everything has to be about you.” I say through gritted teeth. “There won’t be any need for either of us to get involved, this case sounds black and white.”

  “It does?”

  “Wilson Bruiser obviously came back for his journal. Emelza refused to give it to him and he killed her. Case closed.”

  “Why would he want it back? It’s getting attention for him now anyway. He seems awfully vain.”

  “I’m not getting drawn into it.” I say. “That’s my guess of what happened, we’ll see what Taylor thinks of it all.”

  Sage nods.

  “And you shouldn’t joke about ill babies, that’s a terrible thing to do.”

  “Huh? I wasn’t joking. One of the twins has just been discharged, Taylor was going across to bring them all home.”

  “What?” I say, and I’m on my feet immediately. “What was wrong?”

  “No idea. But it’s going to be okay, apparently.”

  “Ugh, Sage, why didn’t you say? I need to go and see Adele.”

  I reach their house just as Adele steps out of the car.

  She’s wrought with worry, her face pale and her hair limp around her face. I immediately regret my wish that she’d return to the more plain version of herself.

  “What can I do?”

  “There’s been a murder.” Taylor says, appearing from the other side of the car with a baby in a car seat. “I have to go to work. Can you stay? Please?”

  “Of course.” I say, glad again that my diary is quieter now. I reach out for the car seat. “Here, let me take that. You go. Sage told me about Emelza.”

  “It’s a terrible business.” He says, passing the car seat across to me. I notice that it’s Scarlett I’m carrying. Adele has reached into the car and grabbed Axel from his car seat. She holds him tight to her chest. His colour is off and his breathing is ragged.

  “You go, we’ll be fine.” I say with more confidence than I possess. I love babies, but I’m not sure I have enough experience with them for this.

  “I wasn’t there.” Adele says as we enter the house. I lock it behind us.

  “He’s going to be okay?”

  “He’s going to be fine. Just needs some rest. But I wasn’t there. I came home and turned off my phone, I was asleep within ten seconds.”

  “It’s okay.” I soothe. Our dinner out had been a disaster. Adele had been distracted all evening, before quickly paying the tab after our mains. Not even a glance at a dessert menu. She’d apologised, of course, and I’d reminded her that all she’d wanted to do was sleep the free time away. I should have let her. The woman’s clearly exhausted.

  After a lunch of pre-packed pesto spaghetti salads for us and milk for the twins, a miracle happens and both babies fall asleep. I force Adele to go and get a shower and a nap herself, and I settle myself on the couch with the remote control while the babies snooze in their bassinets.

  The first channel that comes on is a regional news station, and I’m not surprised at all to see that Adele is doing her best to keep up to date with world events even while being such a new mom.

  I gasp
as a familiar face appears on screen.

  “And now we’re joined by Lavinia Blackbottom the fourth, who resides in Mystic Springs. Ms Blackbottom is a passionate advocate for women’s rights and independence and is here as part of our Women’s Week. Ms Blackbottom, welcome.”

  Lavinia sits on a high stool in a short skirt, her tanned legs crossed and feet slipped into dangerously high heels. Thankfully, she’s not wearing the money coat.

  “Yes, yes, fabulous to be here to share my important message with your viewers.”

  “Ms Blackbottom, you’re the great-granddaughter of Lavinia Blackbottom, founder and first Mayor of Mystic Springs. We understand that she was part of an all-female group who discovered and founded the town. So, it seems, female independence is in your blood?”

  “Of course. My great-grandmother was a true leader, an independent woman in every sense, and I have followed in her footsteps while also paving my own way and carrying the torch of the Blackbottom name.”

  “Quite.” The presenter says.

  “What a load of rubbish.” I say quietly, not wanting to disturb the babies. The sound of the shower upstairs has stopped, and I hope that Adele has curled up in bed and is drifting off to sleep.

  “What does it mean to you, to be an independent woman?”

  “Well, it’s all about not relying on anyone else.” Lavinia says.

  “Emotionally, financially…” The presenter says.

  “Every way, yes yes.”

  “Is that easier to do when you have an inherited wealth?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t know. I have no inherited wealth.”

  “Oh, sorry, I assumed…”

  “People always assume and it’s a dangerous game. My family have over the generations been rewarded dreadfully in financial terms for their devotion to Mystic Springs.”

  “Well, it’s been fascinating speaking to you today, Lavinia. How important would you say it is for women to support and encourage each other in life?”

  “It’s vital.” Lavinia says, addressing the camera. “I’ve never understood the need some women feel to tear other women down. We are the greater sex, that much is obvious, and yet we hold ourselves back by engaging in petty squabbles. Every woman should make it her mission to speak only of life and power and strength about her fellow women. That is how we claim our true collective power and, really, there’s no stopping us then. And I think we all know that women ruling the world would see a very different type of world, indeed.”