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

by Mona Marple

  It appears that social media was a no-go during her married days, and she’s more than making up for lost time.

  A keen player of online games, she automatically updates her feed most hours to say that she needs a gaming friend to send her hay for her gaming farm, or to celebrate that her gaming hospital has successfully treated 10 patients in a row.

  And splattered in around these game updates are her real updates, which you can recognise instantly because of the magical essays she crafts, full of heart emojis and exclamation marks.

  She’s beautiful, though. Her images show her to be Amazonian with her deep brown skin and her everlasting legs. If I was going to have a girl crush, it would probably be on Lovell Lovegoode.

  She’s immediately responsive to my friend request and my private message, and eager to meet.

  And so, before dawn, Sage and I set out into the mountains, along winding lanes and gravel paths until we reach her home, a beautiful cabin nestled in the treetops. Lovell won’t be able to see Sage, as she lives outside of the town borders, but Sage insists on coming along. She’ll sit quietly nearby so she can listen, she promises.

  Lovell opens the door and it’s clear instantly that she doesn’t use any filters on the photos she posts. She’s every inch the goddess she looks like on screen, and I self-consciously glance down at the muffin top riding over my linen pants.

  “Good morning!” She calls out, and she’s as American as apple pie, all white teeth, enthusiasm and daisy dukes. “I got some sweet tea for us, shall we sit out here? The view’s so lovely as the sun comes up. Thanks for coming out so early!”

  “Oh, thanks for having me.” I say as she leads me to a deck at the side of the cabin, kitted out with a small table and two chairs. The sweet tea jug and two glasses are already out there, and I take a thirsty gulp when she pours my glass. She sits on the other chair, looks out over the view of the trees and the valley in the distance, and then turns her attention to me. “So. Lovey?”

  “Yes, Lovey.” I say with an awkward smile.

  “Your hair is adorable, by the way.” She says, and it’s the most unexpected thing I could hear from this beauty. “I wish my hair would curl. It’s so flat and lifeless.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I ask, looking at the sheen on her long, dark locks. Sure, her hair is poker straight, but I’d swap my flyaway frizz for straight hair any day. “Your hair’s amazing.”

  “Oh, stop.” She says, batting the compliment away. “You know, it’s been two years since I saw or spoke to Lovey, so I don’t know how much I can tell you.”

  “I’m sure anything you can share will be helpful. How did you two meet?”

  “Online.” She says with a reminiscing smile.

  “Lovey was online?” I ask in surprise.

  “Oh no, he hates the internet. No, he had a buddy who was teasing him, saying Lovey’s name was so good, any wife he had would have to have a great name that would go with it. I was doing some modelling back then, so I was fairly well-known online. His friend remembered that he’d seen my name and said Lovey should marry me, and I guess Lovey liked the idea.”

  “That’s wild.” I say. Sure, the name might have sparked his interest, but her looks couldn’t have hurt, either.

  “The friend of his contacted me and arranged a blind date. It was all pretty mad. I have no idea why I said yes.”

  “And when you met?”

  She lets out a dry, throaty laugh. “Oh, man, total nightmare. He was such a bore. Spent the entire dinner talking about antique cash registers.”

  “I’m guessing he won you over.” I say with a smile.

  “Well, I guess so too, but I look back and I don’t know how. We had nothing in common. I’m such a regular girl, ya know, I love my modern comforts and he was living in the past. He managed to convince me to close all my online accounts, and that pretty much ended my modelling days. It was just a really silly time in my life.”

  “Wow.” I say. “He was so against the internet that he didn’t want you using it?”

  She nods. “It’s my own fault, ya know. I should have stood my ground. But he was older than me, and he seemed so wise. He treated me well, doted on me like a princess really. The marriage was fine as long as we didn’t have to be together much. I’d find excuses to work away, because he wouldn’t text or anything, so it was like a few days of bliss.”

  “Was he ever… did he ever hurt you?”

  “Like, what, like hit me?” She asks, eyes wide. Her skin is so clear I could lick it. “Oh no, he never had any reason to. I was a pretty good girl. He said no internet, I got rid of the internet, ya know?”

  “What made you leave?” I ask, taking another sip of my sweet tea.

  “I had this friend, who’d got me lots of modelling jobs, and he rang me - I kept my cell phone, that’s the one thing I wouldn’t get rid of. He rang me and said there was this big job coming up over in Florida. And I went, and I earnt a lot of money, and I was gone for so long it just kind of seemed like the marriage was over, even though we hadn’t spoke about it. Lovey hadn’t made any contact with me while I was gone, and honestly I was having such a good time out there, it kinda felt like the whole marriage was something I’d imagined, ya know? I came back and stayed with a friend, found this place and moved in, and got my lawyers to serve the divorce papers on him.”

  “Wow.” I say. “How did he react?”

  “I can’t say he was bothered.” She says with a shrill laugh. “Maybe he thought I was as dull as I thought he was!”

  “Do you know what happened over in Mystic Springs recently?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “I don’t follow the news, it’s all bad news. Is it Lovey? Is he okay? I feel bad now for sayin’ all that, I don’t wish the man bad or anything.”

  “Oh no, he’s fine.” I reassure her. “But someone was killed a few days ago. A woman named Emelza Shabley.”

  Lovell stares at me blankly.

  “She claimed to have an old journal that revealed that Mystic Springs was founded by a man.” I say.

  A faint recognition flashes in her eyes. “Ohhhhh, it’s meant to be a woman, right? I think I remember Lovey telling me about that. He went to some auction to bid on part of the original waggon that that woman had owned.”

  “He did?” I say, stunned. If Lovey’s tried to own historic items relating to the founding of Mystic Springs before, that makes it even more obvious that he must have badly wanted the journal.

  She nods and takes a sip of her sweet tea. “He came home in a furious mood that day. Some city slicker had bid way more than Lovey thought it was worth, so he’d stopped bidding, but he really wanted it.”

  “Did he have a strong interest in local history?”

  Lovey shook her head. “No stronger than any other history, really. He was a man obsessed with the past. Hold on, do you think Lovey hurt that woman?”

  “It’s a possibility I’m looking into.” I say with a regretful smile.

  “Wow.” She breathes.

  “You probably know him better than anyone. Do you think he’d kill someone, to get his hands on an antique?”

  She stares out at the trees for a few seconds, pondering the question. “When we were dating, we went out to a BBQ joint one night, and it was early days. I kept turning up for dates and I kept leaving wondering why I’d gone out with him again, but he was so sweet and he gave me lots of presents. I had on this antique necklace that Lovey had given me. He loved to see me wear it. And this particular night, some bums were in the bar making comments about me. It got pretty heated, they were intense, ya know? And Lovey was ignoring it all, until this one guy reached over and tried to touch the necklace. Well, Lovey was out of his seat like you wouldn’t believe. He had the poor drunk on the floor and he was hitting him over and over again. And when they got split up, I was about to thank Lovey, ya know, for protecting me. But he looked at me and I’ll never forget his words - that necklace is rare, you nearly let him touch it!"
>
  “He wasn’t protecting you at all.” I murmur.

  “He was protecting the thing that was valuable to him.” She says with a faraway smile. “I should have seen the warning signs then. But, to answer your question, yes, I think Lovey could kill for an antique. He gets so obsessive. I could see him, not planning to hurt someone, but flying into a blind rage maybe. I can definitely see that.”

  “Does he have a police record?” I ask, wondering why Sheriff Morton hasn’t picked up on it if so.

  “Erm, I don’t know.” She says. “I stormed out of that place, I didn’t wait around to see if the cops had been called. I was still doing shoots then, I couldn’t have my name mixed up with that stuff.”

  “Of course.” I say. “Are you modelling again now?”

  She nods. “Luckily, I had enough contacts who were pleased to hear from me when I left. The job in Florida helped. I owe a lot to that one friend who offered me the Florida gig… it showed I could still do it, ya know. I’m flying this morning to do a shoot, that’s why I had to ask you to come so early.”

  “It must be a glamorous life!” I gush and I suck in my belly a little as my eyes are drawn to the concave stomach hiding under Lovell’s cami.

  She shrugs. “It’s a job.”

  “But you get to travel, and…”

  “Travel is not glamorous.” She says with a throaty chuckle. “Trust me, I’m not big enough for anyone to pay for me to fly first class, so it’s hours flying coach, waiting around in airports, and then more hours of people fussing over my hair and make-up. It can be so bitchy too. Some of the girls are a nightmare. That’s why I love it here, my little hideaway in the woods, where I can just grab my shorts and brush my hair and I’m ready.”

  I ignore the subtle suggestion that she’s wearing no make-up, because the idea that this woman is that attractive naturally is more than I can handle as I sit there feeling my forehead dampen with sweat and knowing that my belly button has been swallowed up in between two rolls of stomach fat.

  “Well, I should let you get going.” I say. I catch Sage’s eye. True to her word, she’s been waiting around by the trees and hasn’t made a sound.

  “It was really nice to meet you.” Lovell says, and she scoops me into a hug that is more bone than I’m used to. I pull away quickly, awkward that she will have felt my wobbles in just as surprising a way. “Can you tell me, what’s going to happen to Lovey?”

  “We’re still investigating right now.” I say. “Don’t tell him I was here, please? It would threaten the case.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I haven’t had any contact with him. I’m not going to change that. Good luck with it all. You know your way back out of here? Carry on up the hill and there’s a turning spot, then come back on yourself. The roads get a bit challenging if you try to get out the other way.”

  “Thanks Lovell, it’s been great to meet you.” I say, and I walk back towards my car as she disappears into her little hideaway.

  “She. Was. Beautiful.” Sage exclaims as soon as we’re back in the car. “Did you see her skin? It was flawless!”

  “I know.” I agree. “I can’t help thinking a lifetime of those low fat meals won’t get me looking as good as she does.”

  “Well, her body’s her business.” Sage says. “It’ll be written in all her contracts, if she gains weight she’ll be out.”

  I hadn’t considered that. “She’s clearly a nice person, too. There’s more to her than her looks. It must be quite frustrating being judged on her appearance all the time.”

  “Hmm.” Sage murmurs. “I’d happily give her life a whirl.”

  I smile to myself. Sage has always been desperate for adventure and freedom. I can imagine the novelty of being told what to wear and how to stand and where to look would wear off very quickly for her.

  “And she thinks Lovey’s capable of murder.”

  “I’d be very interested to see if he has a police record.” I say as I turn on the small piece of gravel path. There’s just enough space for a car to maneuver without reversing off the path and into the grassy slope. I say a silent prayer as I do the final turn and manage to straighten up facing back down the winding path. “Geeze, I wouldn’t fancy this drive every day.”

  Sage grins at me. “Lovell’s desperate to show she’s not just a glamour puss, hey, living out here like a red neck.”

  “Sage!” I scold. “I like her. You think she’s reliable?”

  My sister shrugs and I sense her distraction.

  “I’m sorry, is this murder investigation taking too much of your time?” I ask.

  “Patton invited me to breakfast.” She says, with a shy smile.

  “What a waste of time. You can’t eat or drink.” I say.

  “It doesn’t matter!” Sage objects. “It’s the experience of it, the smell of coffee and banana muffins. I think it’s a cute idea.”

  “Well, is it a date?” I ask, slipping too easily into the interested friend role. I’ve been playing it my whole life, and just once I’d like to be the one with an exciting date coming up, not the one hearing about someone else’s.

  “I think so.” She admits, and in her tone I hear the girlish excitement she’s had throughout her whole life every time a boy - or a man - has shown an interest in her. I grin, because her happiness is contagious. She loves the highs and even the lows of this cycle. It’s like a drug to her. She loves it the way I love carbs.

  “We’d better get you home, then.” I say, and as we finally get off the rickety gravel paths on to the main road, I accelerate and let out a whoop.

  “What’s got into you?” Sage asks, sceptical.

  “I just like seeing you happy.” I say, and I drive into Mystic Springs, past the high school where the caretaker is collecting garbage, past the pizza joint that’s buzzing each afternoon but closed now, and past our house. I screech to a stop outside Screamin’ Beans, catching the attention of Ellie Bean who is setting a menu on each of the outside tables. She glances up from her work and gives a wave.

  “I’m early.” Sage says in horror.

  “You’re welcome.” I tease.

  “No, I mean, I can’t be here first.” She hisses, slumping down low in the passenger seat. I shake my head and undo my seat belt.

  “I’m going to grab a coffee. You can hide out here or come in with me.” I say, opening the driver door.

  Sage groans. “Fine. Let’s pretend we’re having a meeting before I fit him in for breakfast, that sounds impressive, doesn’t it?”

  “Very impressive.” I soothe. The cool of the A/C hits me as I walk into the coffee house. A country song plays out, all tractors and heartbreak, and Godiva snores from the most comfortable seat in the house.

  Ellie makes her way back to the counter and washes her hands.

  “Morning, ladies.” She says, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ears. “Cappuccino?”

  “Please, Ellie.” I say. “How are things? Are you hearing much about the Emelza Shabley murder?”

  She shakes her head. “It’s old news, it seems. People don’t seem to have any faith that it’s going to get solved.”

  “What? Why would they think that?”

  She glances towards the corner of the coffee house, where Sheriff Mortion sits nursing a large mug. “He’s spending a lot of time here. A lot of time clearly not working. It’s not reassuring seeing the Sheriff drink coffee while there’s a murderer on the loose.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” I wonder aloud.

  Sage huffs behind me. “The man is a liability. Patton warned you. It’s the wife I feel for.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about her.” Ellie says. “Word on the street is she won’t be around much longer.”

  “What?” I ask. I knew she wasn’t happy here but I thought we were friends. If she’s planning leaving, I thought she would have told me before it became general gossip.

  Ellie shrugs. “Oh, you’d have to ask him. Looks like he’s got nothing better to d
o!”

  “I might just do that.” I say quietly, and I gaze across the coffee house to Sheriff Morton. A man with the weight of the world on his shoulders, clearly, as he stares down into his mug. His mind is focused somewhere, but it clearly isn’t on finding out who killed Emelza Shabley.

  13

  Sage

  We’re stationed outside Lovey Lovegoode’s house, across the street, on one of the dozen benches dotted around town in memory of Atticus Hornblower. Rumour has it that he funded the benches himself, with money tucked away in some secret account that couldn’t ever be formally connected to him. The bronze plaque declares him to be a great leader and lover of Mystic Springs.

  It’s unfortunate wording, because trust me, I don’t want to imagine Atticus as a lover in any sense of the word.

  “He’s late.” Patton says, arms crossed, stifling a yawn.

  We convinced Connie to ring his hotel and a dopey receptionist told us the time he’d checked out without a second thought for his confidentiality. The drive back should take three hours, so we allowed him four. The man might need a toilet break, ya know.

  “Has it been four hours exactly?” I ask.

  “A little over.”

  “Maybe he grabbed lunch.” I say. “Or hit traffic.”

  “Maybe.” Patton says, but neither of us are convinced. Lovey Lovegoode is probably long gone, driving in the opposite direction, never to be seen again. That’s what I’d do if I were guilty. Not that I’ve spent a huge amount of time planning what I’d do if I killed someone, but surely putting as much distance between yourself and the crime is Killing 101?

  “The police will track his car, surely.” I say.

  “Oh, yeah, all that can be done.” Patton says. “If he’s smart, he’ll ditch the car. He’s got time since we’re the only ones looking for him.”

  I sigh.

  “Talk of the devil.” Patton says, and we both look down the road as an old Corvette appears in view. Bright red, roof down, and inside it, Lovey Lovegoode returns.