Who Invited the Ghost to Dinner: A Ghost Writer Mystery

by Teresa Watson

  “He wanted me to produce a show here in Dallas. He didn’t want Susan to go to New York.”

  “Did he say why?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe he was afraid she wouldn’t come back.”

  “When the first act ended, did you leave your table?” Mike asked him.

  “Yes, I went to the restroom, talked to a couple of people, then sat down a few minutes before the house lights were dimmed.”

  “Where was Joey?”

  “We both went outside, and someone stopped him to ask a question. When I came back from the restroom, he was gone. He never came back to the table.”

  “What did you do after Mike and I talked to the audience?”

  “I left.”

  “When you went out between acts, did you see Susan lurking around anywhere?” Mike said.

  “No.”

  “How do you feel about Susan giving you up for adoption instead of raising you herself?”

  “I had a great childhood. No regrets. When I turned 18, my parents told me about Susan. I’ll admit I was mad at first, but over time, I realized that she did what was best for both of us at the time.”

  “Did Susan call your hotel before last night?” I said.

  “She did leave a couple of messages,” Showalter admitted. “But I didn’t call her back.”

  “Why not?”

  “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hi, I’m the baby you gave up twenty-eight years ago’? I don’t think that would have gone over well, do you?”

  “Does your dad do any directing?”

  He shook his head. “He tried once, and that was it. He was hooked after that. Gave up acting on the spot.”

  “Then our theory that she thought it was your father coming here just went out the window, didn’t it?” I pointed out. “She knew it was you that was going to be here.”

  “If that’s true,” Mike said, “then what did she want?”

  “Maybe she wanted to get to know her son,” I replied.

  Chapter 14

  “What do you think of his story?” I asked Mike as we drove back to Waxahachie.

  “Well, if it’s true, it doesn’t give him much of a motive to kill her. But I think I’ll do a background check on him and his adoptive parents.”

  “It does seem to give Joey a good motive, though,” I replied.

  “How do you figure?”

  “We both know that Joey can be a bit of a control freak at times. If he was afraid that Susan was going to leave him, what would he do to make her stay?”

  “We don’t know that she was going to leave him for sure.”

  “What if she did want to revive her career? Reconnecting with the son she gave up for adoption would be one way to do it.”

  “We don’t have any definitive proof she wanted to go to New York,” Mike replied. “We only have Stephen’s side of the conversation with Joey. We need to hear the other side.”

  “But we don’t know where to find Joey,” I pointed out.

  “My people are working on it,” he assured me. “What are you going to tell your agent?”

  “That we plan to meet again to talk about our vision for the play, yadda, yadda, yadda.”

  “Don’t forget blah, blah, blah.”

  “Very funny.”

  My phone rang, and I pulled it out of my bag. “Hello, Mother. How are you?”

  “Do you know why the police want to talk to me again?” she asked, her voice strained.

  I glanced at Mike. “No, I have no idea. What makes you think they want to talk to you again?”

  “Could you call Mike and ask him? I’m sure he can straighten this out.”

  I really didn’t want to take advantage of our relationship by asking him something like that. “Mother, maybe they just want to talk to you since you organized the whole event.”

  “I still want you to call Mike.”

  Sighing, I said, “Hold on a minute, Mother.” I put the phone on speaker. “Ask him yourself; he’s sitting next to me.”

  “Mike, why in the world is one of your officers dragging me back down to the police station?” she said.

  “As Cam said, Mrs. Shaw, you organized this event. You may be able to provide more details, which will be useful to us as far as eliminating suspects. That will help us focus our time and energy on pursuing the killer.”

  “What is it that you need? Anything in particular?”

  “Well, who was sitting at what table would be a good place to start. Those closest to the stage wouldn’t have been able to go near the stage without being seen, while those further back could slip out and no one would notice. We also can eliminate older people, like my grandfather and your mother, who wouldn’t have been able to climb the stairs, nor would they have the strength to hurt anyone.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Also, you can provide information about the actors, crew, director, caterer, and any other staff that you employed for the weekend. Things like that will be extremely helpful to our investigation.”

  “I had nothing to do with the actors or the crew; you need to talk to Richard about that. But I can help with the other people that you mentioned.”

  “I would appreciate that, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “However, you were overheard having a rather heated argument with the victim on two separate occasions, which means you are a possible suspect in her murder.”

  Mother and I gasped at the same time.

  “Michael Allan Penhall, wait until your grandfather hears about this!” she said angrily.

  “He would probably agree with me, Mrs. Shaw,” Mike calmly said. “I honestly don’t believe you did it. You’re more of a peacemaker than a neck breaker. But I have to be thorough and follow the law. I can’t show favoritism just because I’m dating your daughter.”

  Silence.

  “Mother, are you there?”

  “Chief Penhall, please contact me and let me know when you want me to come down for this interview. Reverend Shaw and I will make ourselves available to you,” Mother said.

  “I only need to talk to you, Mrs. Shaw, not your husband.”

  “We have been married for forty years, and in that time, we’ve only been apart from each other one day. He either comes with me, or I don’t come at all.”

  “Then I will have to come down to the coffeehouse, escort you to my patrol car, stick you in the back seat in front of everyone, and haul you down to the police station like a common criminal.”

  “Mike!” I said, surprised by the harsh words. “Hold on a minute, Mother,” I said, muting the call. “Is this a formal interview? What would it hurt if he’s with her? She’ll cooperate more if you let him come. He’s her rock. No matter how strong she sounds, I guarantee you she’s terrified at the thought of being a murder suspect.”

  Mike sighed. “Unmute it.”

  I hit the button. “Mother, you still there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mrs. Shaw, you may bring Reverend Shaw with you.”

  “Thank you, Michael,” she said, but I could tell she was still upset.

  “See, Mother? Everything will be fine. I’ll see you later. Love you!”

  “I love you, too. The jury is still out on that boyfriend of yours.”

  “Bye, Mrs. Shaw,” Mike said, but Mother had already hung up.

  I sat back in the seat. “You wouldn’t seriously haul my mother in, would you?”

  “No, of course not. She got defensive, and it was a knee jerk reaction. That’s my normal ‘I mean business’ response to people who don’t want to cooperate.”

  “She’s not refusing to cooperate. She just wants Dad to come with her for moral support.”

  “Maybe I can interview her at the coffeehouse. That should put her at ease, right?”

  “Probably.”

  “Let me see what my schedule is like when we get back. Maybe I can come by tomorrow after the morning rush.”

  I put my hand on top of his. “You�
�re a big softie, aren’t you?”

  Mike groaned. “Don’t let it get around. It will ruin my reputation, and the guys at the station will never let me hear the end of it.”

  ***

  After I picked up my car from the police station, I drove by the theatre. Yellow crime scene tape hung limply around the building. I wondered if we were going to be able to hold tonight’s performance. My guess would be no.

  I parked near the back door, which went directly into the kitchen. Whoever killed Susan Ingram would have had an escape route already planned out, right? I got out and walked toward the door. There’s no way the killer would have gone this way; there were people in and out of there all evening. Unless they dressed like a waiter, then they would have been able to blend in with everyone else, and then slipped out the back door into the night.

  I kept walking, and saw another door near the end of the building. There was yellow tape here as well, in the form of a big giant ‘X’. Was this the door that led to the backstage area? I looked around. The theatre was located in the park behind the old hospital, which was just one block from a main road that went straight to I-35E.

  Did Susan plan on crashing the event by making a big entrance? I could picture her slipping in through the back door, her red heels sounding like small rumbles of thunder on the wood floor of the stage. The curtain comes down for the end of the first act, the actors head for the dressing rooms while the crew sets the stage for the next act. She’s hiding behind one of the sets, waiting for the crew to finish. They leave, and she steps out, and heads for the big gold curtain. But a noise stops her. Before she can turn around, a pair of hands grab her pearls, pulling them tight around her neck, holding on until she is no longer breathing. The killer lays her on the floor behind the couch and slips out the back door without being seen by the cast or crew. They would walk up this little hill, get into a car they have stashed by the hospital, and be gone before Susan’s body was found.

  I looked around for footprints. The only problem with that was there were too many. I mentally slapped my forehead. The actors and crew would have come back here for a breath of fresh air, when they had a break. I started walking toward the little hill, and found two sets of prints: one small, one large. It still didn’t prove that they came from anyone leaving the theatre. I glanced up, and noticed something white hanging out of a trashcan. I was glad I was wearing my sneakers this morning, and not a good pair of loafers. I made my way up to the trashcan, where a white dress shirt had been thrown inside. A closer look revealed a pair of black pants and a tie. This is what the waiters and waitresses had been wearing last night.

  I made my way back to the car, dug my phone out of my bag, and called Mike. “Do you know if your officers searched behind the theatre last night?” I asked him when he answered the phone.

  “Just the immediate area, where the caterer had her van parked. Why?”

  “Because I just found a waiter’s outfit in a trashcan between the theatre and the hospital.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  I won’t repeat what he said, but I sure as heck didn’t want to be any of his officers when he got a hold of them. “All right, Officer Reagan will be out there in about ten minutes. Stay by your car, and don’t go near the evidence.”

  “I doubt very seriously someone is going to come back and get them, Mike. Not after they discarded them as they were getting away last night.”

  “You’re probably right, but let’s just play it safe, okay?”

  “Okay, okay.” Geez, what a worrywart.

  But instead of staying by my car, I went back up the hill, past the clothes, and up to the narrow street that ran behind the hospital. The best way to get away would have been to go past the park entrance to a side street, which led directly to a stop light.

  I heard a noise behind me, but before I could turn around, something came crashing down on the back of my head, and I fell to the ground face first. Just before I passed out, I saw a black and white pair of shoes.

  ***

  Across town, Mike was on the phone. “What do you mean you can’t find it, Larry?”

  “About thirty years ago, there was a fire at the old police station. Tons of evidence boxes were destroyed.”

  “Then why do I have the cold case file?”

  “Because they were kept in a separate location.”

  Suddenly, a pen that was next to Mike’s arm floated in the air, and a piece of paper slid across his desk.

  “All right, Larry, I appreciate you looking for it. I gotta go.” Mike hung up as the pen started to fly across the paper.

  “Cam in trouble. Theatre.”

  Mike just sat there and stared at the words. “Mac?”

  “It’s not Little Mary Sunshine. Get off your butt and go!”

  Mike grabbed his phone and keys, and ran out the door.

  Chapter 15

  When I woke up, Mike was sitting next to me. “Hey, there’s those beautiful hazel eyes I love looking at.”

  There was a bright light in my face that was making my head hurt, and I closed my eyes again. “Where am I?”

  “In the back of an ambulance at the moment,” he told me. “We’re fixing to take you to the hospital.”

  “No,” I said, struggling to sit up. “I’m fine. Just give me a minute.”

  “I would strongly advise against doing that,” paramedic Kim Thurston said. “You’ve got a nasty bump on the back of your head, and you’re going to need a few stitches. I’m pretty sure you’ve got a concussion.”

  “There’s something I need to do first,” I said. My head was spinning, and I had an overwhelming urge to throw up.

  “Right now, there’s nothing you need to worry about except your health,” Kim said. “Now just lay back down.”

  “No!” I said, turning my head to look at her and instantly regretting it.

  “Cam, let her take you to the hospital,” Mike said.

  “Did you find the waiter’s outfit?”

  “Don’t worry about that…”

  “Did you find it?” I repeated.

  Sighing, Mike shook his head. “No, there was nothing there. Just you lying on the ground out cold.”

  “Help me out of here,” I said, scooting toward the end of the gurney.

  “Cam, are you nuts?” Kim said, trying to pull me back.

  “No way,” Mike said, reaching out to push me back.

  I glared at him. “Someone nearly knocked my brains out because of those damn clothes. Let me show you where I found them, and then you can haul me away. Deal?”

  Kim rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air. “You’re not the most stubborn patient I’ve ever had, but you’re damn close,” she muttered. She reached into her kit and brought out an ice pack. “Here, at least put this on the back of your head. You’ve got five minutes, and then we’re out of here.”

  Mike frowned, but he got out first and helped me down. Wrapping his right arm around my waist, and holding my left hand, he walked me to the spot I pointed out to him. “Tell me what you saw.”

  I looked down at the trashcan, and saw Officer Reagan standing next to it. “There was a white shirt on top, pants and tie inside. I noticed because there was a shirt sleeve draped over the edge of the can.”

  “Had you seen them before?” he asked me as Reagan joined us.

  I started to nod my head, but quickly stopped. “The wait staff was wearing them last night.”

  “All of them?” Reagan said.

  “Yes.”

  “And you say they were just there, out in the open?” she said, frowning at me.

  “Plain as day.”

  She didn’t reply, just looked down and shook her head.

  “What are you thinking, Reagan?” Mike said.

  “Nothing, sir.”

  “No, I want to hear it. Go ahead.”

  Reagan glanced at me first, then back at Mike. “How do we know she’s telling the truth, sir? Her mother’
s a possible suspect. For all we know, Ms. Shaw made the whole thing up to divert attention away from her mother.”

  “And then I hit myself over the back of the head to make it look good, right?” I retorted.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s injured themselves and blamed someone else.”

  “And just what did I use to hit myself, Officer Reagan?” I was starting to change my opinion about this rookie. “Oh wait, let me guess, I tossed it away, then came back, laid down, and went to sleep to make it look like I was unconscious, right?”

  Mike didn’t say anything.

  “Well, um…I don’t know. It’s possible, I suppose.”

  “Then you start looking around for a weapon, Reagan,” Mike ordered. He reached over and yanked the mic off her shoulder. “This is Chief Penhall. I need back up at the theatre. Send two units.”

  “10-4, Chief.”

  “Also, call the Shaws and tell them I’m sending Cam to the hospital. Have them meet her there.”

  “10-4, Chief. What if they ask me what’s wrong?”

  “Tell them it’s nothing too serious, and that she’ll be fine.”

  “10-4.”

  He held out the mic to Reagan, and helped me back into the ambulance. “I will meet you at the hospital as soon as the backup units get here.”

  “You know she’s not going to find anything,” I said as I stretched out on the gurney.

  “I know that. If she’s going to voice opinions, then she needs to learn to have proof first.”

  “I don’t think she likes me.”

  “Her problem, not yours.” He started to close the doors, but stopped. “By the way, the next time I tell you not to interfere in my investigation, listen.” He slammed them shut, and then banged twice.

  “He doesn’t sound very happy with you,” Kim said as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my left arm, making me wince in pain.

  I shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “Yeah, but he was really freaked out this time. There was quite a bit of blood on the back of your head. I know that he knows head wounds sometimes bleed more, but I think he forgot that when he saw you lying there.”