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

by Mona Marple

  “You worried me last night.” I admit.

  “Huh?”

  “I understand you not wanting to upset Vera, or get in the middle, but if you’re her sister and you’re scared of her, what does that say for the rest of us?”

  “Excuse me?” Violet asks, giving me a glare that makes me wonder if she’s about to lay the smack down on me. “I never said I’m scared of her.”

  “Well, you know, worried…” I fumble.

  “No.” Violet says. “She’s a nightmare. A pain in the ass. But I’ve got nothing to be scared of. Neither has anyone else.”

  “She did put a curse on the Baker House, remember?”

  Violet rolls her eyes. “Why’s she bringing that darn coffee spell out every ten minutes if she can do stuff like curse an entire house?”

  “Erm.” I start, then realise I have no answer. “Okay, that’s a good point. But the fact remains that the town are living in fear of whether there is a curse, and what she might do next. It’s like being locked in with the enemy with this lockdown going on.”

  “Tell me about it.” Violet murmurs.

  “Can’t you do something?” I ask. “Speak to her? You said she only agreed to come here to prove some kind of point to you. Maybe she just wants to speak to you?”

  Violet sighs. “Meet me at the Baker House in an hour. Bring a crowd.”

  **

  It’s dead on noon when Violet appears in view, changed into a bright pink rain mac and running shoes. I grin like a lunatic at the people who word has spread to and who have turned up, not knowing what to expect.

  “Here she comes.” I say.

  At the sight of this regular town resident walking down the street, a small cheer goes up. Honestly, some people need hobbies, I think, before realising I’m their leader.

  “Violet.” I call.

  “Right, let’s get this over with.” Violet says, wrinkled face set in a serious expression.

  “What are you planning to do, Violet?” Atticus calls, not happy about the fact that something of reasonable size is happening in the town without him being informed of its details ahead of time.

  “Show you all the curse ain’t real.” Violet mutters, and then she opens the gate and walks up the path towards the Baker House. She knocks on the door, and a teenage ghost who I believe died in a way so foolish it made national news (something to do with putting his head in a microwave filled with cement, I kid you not), holds open the door, looking as gormless as one has to imagine he did when alive.

  Violet turns to the crowd and then, ceremoniously, steps into the house.

  The crowd takes in a collective breath, watches and waits.

  She’s gone for five minutes, and when she reappears, even I’m amazed to see her looking exactly the same.

  “Well, that proves nothing. The curse says dead within a day.” someone in the crowd calls out.

  “Let’s see what tomorrow brings then, eh?” Violet quips, and with that she walks back down the path, past the crowd and towards her home.

  13

  Sage

  I know when something’s rattled my sister, and now is that time. She’s distracted, checking her cell phone every two minutes, and don’t even get me started on how long it’s been since she had a gentleman caller ringing her late at night.

  Taylor Morton. Sheriff Morton. Father of two.

  I don’t dislike him necessarily, but I’m not sure I trust him either. Let’s just say I know he ain’t always been the best behaved man about town.

  And I’ll be darned if I’m going to stand by and watch him break my sister’s heart. It’s been too many years of her keeping that thing locked away as if it don’t exist in a romantic sense, for her to break it out of the chains only to have it smashed into pieces.

  That’s why I’m at the police station after hours, when the only light on is coming from Sheriff Morton’s office.

  I float through the front door, because it feels appropriate. Like this is a showdown.

  He’s at his desk, hunched over, black-framed glasses right about to fall off his nose, shiny bald head gleaming with the reflection of the overhead strip lights, which whirr and stutter. The light interference may or may not be because of my presence. Us spooks can have that effect sometimes, especially when we’re feeling strong emotions.

  The flashing of the light gets his attention, so I guess it’s just started as I arrived. He pushes the glasses back up his nose and turns around, smiles cautiously when he sees me.

  “Sage… hey. I didn’t hear you knock?”

  “Oh, I didn’t.”

  “I thought you spirits couldn’t just enter a place without being invited.”

  “Oh, that just applies to homes.” I correct with a smile.

  “Really? Seems like an oversight in that rule.” Taylor says with a frown. “I might have to give that some thought. Not because of you, Sage, you’re always welcome. But it could be a freedom that gets abused by other, erm, undesirables.”

  “I guess so.” I say with a shrug. It’s never occurred to me before. There’d be little point in a ghost entering a business premises after hours anyway, since all our business is dead and done. With no need for food or money, we’re unlikely to steal. So I guess that leaves the possibility of us damaging somewhere intentionally, but if a ghost is going to do that, a ‘no entry’ rule is unlikely to stop them. I smile a little, impressed with my own logical thinking. Maybe I should be Sheriff.

  “Is this a social visit?” Taylor asks. “Everything okay at home?”

  “We passed your phone message on.” I say. “To Connie.”

  “Oh good, yeah, she rang me. Thanks.”

  I glance across at his computer screen. He’s in the middle of reading, or writing, what looks like a formal police document. I’m not close enough to read any of it, but I can see at least that it’s not a dating website.

  “So?” he prompts, following my gaze but seeming unconcerned by my interest in what he’s working on.

  “I guess the two of you are getting closer?” I ask, hovering near the door. The lights are going crazy. It must be my emotion they’re picking up on.

  “Your sister’s quite the revelation.” Taylor says with a coy smile.

  “She is pretty amazing.” I say. “And, you know, she’s had her heart broken in the past.”

  Taylor shifts in his seat but doesn’t respond.

  “You can ask her about that, I’m not here to fill you in. I just don’t want that to happen again.”

  “Okay.” he says, looking up at me. “And you think I’m going to break her heart, is that it?”

  “I think you’ve got form.” I say, throwing the legal reference in to make him smile. It doesn’t work.

  “I’ve definitely got form.” he admits. “I’ve done some pretty lousy things as a partner.”

  “Is this where you tell me that you’ve changed because of how amazing Connie is, or something?”

  “Oh no, no chance.” he says. “My behaviour’s on me. It’s never been anyone else’s fault. I think I’ve grown up. I think I settled down too young, got tempted, made stupid mistakes. All on me, none of it anyone else’s fault remember. I finally feel like I’ve put that behind me. My whole priorities in life have shifted.”

  “Hmm.” I ponder. He sounds sincere. Liars often do, though.

  “I think this might be a little premature, Sage.”

  “How so?”

  “I’ve asked Connie out and she hasn’t replied yet. I kinda expect she’s finding the right way to let me down gently.”

  “Seriously?” I ask. I know enough not to reveal how distracted she is since his phone message, but the fact that she hasn’t raced to accept his first date invitation is a surprise. Am I misreading it? Am I losing my touch? Or does she have another man on the scene?

  They say that men are like buses, you wait ages for one and then two come at the same time. That’s never been my experience, really, I’ve found an abundance of men whe
never I’ve wanted one and when I haven’t. But maybe it’s Connie’s reality right now.

  Eenie, meenie, miney, mo.

  “She’s been pretty busy.” I say with an apologetic shrug.

  “Yeah.” he says, and I look again at the piles of papers on his desk and the fact that he’s the only one still at work in the building. He probably knows a thing or two about busy himself. I should have pretended she’d been ill.

  “So, erm, thanks for seeing me.” I say.

  “You didn’t really give me a choice.” he says with a wink. “But it’s fine. And, you know what, your concerns are probably Connie’s too. I get that. I can’t change the mistakes I’ve made. If you talk to her about it, I’d sure appreciate if you’d put a good word in for me.”

  “You’re that keen?”

  To my surprise, his cheeks flush. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  **

  As I float back through town, past the general store with its stock buckets filled with plastic spiders and wind-up mechanical monsters, there’s movement up ahead.

  A moving truck.

  News!

  I float across to the truck as a woman appears at the front door of the home. Tall, slim, with poker straight blond hair that seems impossibly thick and luscious, she’s dressed in a cream pencil skirt and stiletto heels.

  She glances at me, looks away, then does a double take.

  “Holy cow! They’re only tellin’ the truth!” she exclaims, then rushes across the front lawn towards me. “Can y’all see me? My goodness, my bacon’s fried now!”

  “Erm, hi?” I say with an amused smile. “Moving in?”

  “Fresh out the wagon!” she says with a laugh. I like her immediately. I mean, I have no clue what she’s saying in that way that I’ve never been able to decipher what Southern people say, but she’s a hoot. “You’re as a cute as a doll!”

  “Well, thanks. I love your… everything!” I admit. “Your hair is incredible. You have to have extensions in there, right? And your outfit’s so good.”

  “Oh, this is all mine.” she says, pulling on a strand of hair. “In fact, the whole lotta everythin’s all mine!”

  “Well, welcome to town. I hope you’ll be happy here.” I say.

  “Oh, for sure.” the woman says, then leans in close. “So, you really are dead? This isn’t some elaborate Hallowe’en fancy dress?”

  I laugh. “I’m really dead. All year round. Have been for twenty years.”

  “Well, that’s really taught the ducks how to swim! I didn’t catch your name? I think we’re gonna be friends.”

  “I’m Sage. Sage Shaw. And I think so too.” I say.

  “Well, Sage, you wanna come on in and look around? This big ole place ain’t lookin’ like a home yet but it will. We’ll get it there. I got some sweet tea if y’all want any? I’m Lucille, by the way, Lucille Skipton.”

  “Skipton?” I repeat. “Related to Bruce?”

  “By marriage only, praise the Lord, and separated by lawful divorce, praise the Lord again. You knew him?”

  “Not really.” I say. “Everyone in town’s pretty focused on who killed him, though. How come you’ve moved here?”

  “Well, since Boyd inherited the business, he needed to keep it or sell. I told him he ain’t gotta rush into that decision, just come down, see how he feels. So, here we are.”

  “Oh, so this is his place?”

  “Our place.” she says with a grin. The big ole place she’s showing me around is neither big, by Mystic Springs standards, nor old. It’s a modest three bedroom townhouse, with a kitchen island only big enough for two. Connie’s place is bigger than this, and that’s nowhere near the extravagant end of houses the town has to offer.

  This place is nice, don’t get me wrong. It’s a modern build and the inside is lovely. Very neutral, as houses always seem to be now when they’re put on the market because buyers don’t have the imagination to picture how different a bright red room could look after a few fights with a tin of beige paint.

  But it’s not sprawling. It’s not big.

  And it makes me wonder what they’ve come from.

  “I just love this kitchen.” Lucille says, standing behind the island and doing a twirl. “We were city livin’ before. No room to shake an octopus! This place’ll give us some room to spread out.”

  “You two are happy, living together?” I ask.

  “Oh, sure.” Lucille says. “We’re the best of friends. That’ll happen to a boy when his daddy don’t want anythin’ to do with him. Momma has to do it all.”

  “I’ve heard about you.” I say. “Good things. You’re the only ex to have walked out? Some people think he never got over you.”

  “Oh, heck.” she says with a laugh. “Bruce Skipton was all about the deals. I was a lost deal, that’s all. And he hated losing. What I shoulda done, is stuck around till he got bored, then let him get rid of me. But I had a son to think about. My Boyd, my boy, he idolised his daddy. He don’t believe me now if I say that, but he did then. He’d be in the office with Bruce, just like that man was the greatest role model in the world. And I couldn’t let him grow up thinking the way I was bein’ treated was okay.”

  “Still, you must have been scared?”

  Lucille shrugs. “Not really. I can be downright stubborn when I need to be. That got me through the worst of it. Ya know, if you’re gonna have principles, you’re gonna get tested sometimes. God’s gonna give you a chance to prove if you really got principles, or if ya like talkin’ about them.”

  “Well, you passed that test.” I say with a grin. Seriously, where has this woman been all of my, erm, afterlife?

  “Oh man, ya know if you could pass that on to the Lord, that’d be great. I feel like that guy has far too much faith in me! Test after test after test! I’m just playin’, but yeah, there’s no free pass through life because I did somethin’ right that once.”

  “Mom?” a voice calls out. Boyd appears, carrying a box, his brow glistening with sweat. He sees me and offers a confused smile. “Erm, hey!”

  “This doll’s the sweetest little spook, son. Hey, can I call y’all spooks? What’s the word?”

  “Well, I’m pretty laid-back, you can call me anything you want. When you meet my sister Connie, though, she likes people to say spirit.”

  “Spirit.” Lucille says, testing the word out. “Gotcha. So, you, erm, both died?”

  “Oh no, she’s alive and well. I live with her. She’s a medium.”

  “Ha! The right job for this place, then! They warned us, they said it’s rumoured there are ghosts, but I ain’t never believed that, and then the first person I see is you!”

  “Well, this place is really beautiful.” I say. Boyd drops the box on the floor and dusts his hands off on his faded denims, scans the room as if he’s not seen it before.

  “She’s got a great eye.” he says.

  “Oh, stop!” Lucille says, batting him away with a hand. “This town’s so gorgeous, I couldn’t have found a bad property with my eyes closed.”

  The closeness of their relationship makes me squirm a little. My mum was amazing, don’t get me wrong, but she was amazing in a gone-out-of-the-house-working-three-jobs kind of way, amazing in a don’t-wake-me-after-a-night-shift kind of way. Connie and I owe that woman for everything we ever accomplished in life, but she was a practical, no-nonsense woman carrying the strain of hungry little mouths that needed food and bills that needed paying. I can’t ever imagine having had the easy closeness with her that Boyd Skipton has with his mother.

  “I’ll leave you guys to it.” I say with a half-wave.

  “Oh, no, stay! We got some iced tea and there’s not much in the way of food, but I’m sure I could put somethin’ together?” Lucille coos, opening a series of kitchen cupboards, all of which are empty.

  “Erm, it’s fine.” I say with an awkward smile. “Spirits actually can't eat or drink. Thanks so much for your generosity, though!”

  I imagine Connie then,
when she finds out that I’ve passed up the chance to spend time with a suspect in his natural habitat.

  “I mean, I can just hang out for a bit. Tell you about Mystic Springs? And I’d love to get to know you both?”

  “Oh!” Lucille squeals. “Yes! Yes, yes! This is so great! Come on, sit down.”

  I take one of the two seats at the kitchen island and Lucille stands across from me, grinning at me enthusiastically. I can’t see her killing Bruce Skipton, as much as she must have hated him at one point. Boyd Skipton, however, clearly idolises his mother. And the more he idolises her, the more he must hate what his father did to her.

  That’s a motive right there, surely.

  And while there’s no direct evidence he was here around the time of Bruce’s death, who would have given the guy a second glance if he had shown up in town? Not handsome enough to make the girls swoon, he is literally part of the beige background of this new home.

  Poor guy. Must be an awful way to live a life, although a great bonus if you’re hoping to sneak in somewhere unseen.

  “So, you guys must have visited here before, right?” I ask. Not my most subtle line, I admit.

  “Never.” Lucille says, and she slips out of her heels as she talks, reducing her height by at least five inches.

  “How about you, Boyd?”

  “Nah.” He says. “The place had one big drawback - my dad was here.”

  “So you’ve just upped and moved to a place you’ve never visited before?” I ask, seriously impressed. People have addictions, right? My addiction is listening to the stories of people who pack up their lives on a whim and give in to their wanderlust - the exact thing I never had the courage to do when I was alive. Honestly, I could listen to that stuff all day.

  “Well, Boyd likes to be a hands on leader.” Lucille says, clearly bursting with pride. “He wouldn’t feel right running the company from miles away. Best we move in and get to know the lie of the land, hey.”