Who Invited the Ghost to Dinner: A Ghost Writer Mystery

by Teresa Watson

  “Having a problem?” I asked him as I sat down.

  “Cam? What time is it?” He looked up at the wall clock. “Oh geez, I’m sorry, I forgot to wake you up. You’ve been asleep for two hours. How are you feeling?”

  “Head hurts a little. What I really need is a Dr Pepper and something to eat.”

  “No problem,” Mike said. He got up, filled a glass with ice, took a soda can from the pantry, and poured it. Handing it to me, he grabbed an oats and honey granola bar from a box on the counter. “Here you go. Randy should be here shortly with dinner.”

  “Thank you,” I said, gratefully taking a drink. Ah, nectar of the gods right there.

  “You’re welcome,” he said as he sat down again.

  “Any luck with your timeline?”

  “A little. What time did you get there last night?”

  “Around five. I helped Mother do some last minute things before I changed in one of the dressing rooms.”

  “Was there anyone in the dressing room?”

  “Didn’t you read my statement?”

  “I haven’t got to yours yet,” Mike said.

  “I knocked on the first door I came to, and it happened to belong to Rachel Newton.”

  “Isn’t she the one who was giving Diane a hard time during dress rehearsal?”

  I nodded.

  “Did you two talk about anything in particular while you were changing?”

  Taking another drink, I thought about it for a moment. “Not really. She fixed my hair for me…”

  “She did a great job,” Mike said, smiling at me. “I thought you looked beautiful.”

  I blushed. “Thank you. Anyway, she said she used to work at a beauty parlor, and that she was homesick. I suggested she call her mother just to say hello, and then Richard showed up.”

  “What did he want?”

  “Something to do with the show. I didn’t pay much attention. I excused myself and left.”

  “What did you do after that?”

  “Waited for you to show up.” I took another drink. “I have a question for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you believe what Stephen Showalter told us today?”

  “About what?”

  “That Joey was trying to talk him into producing a play in Dallas to keep Susan from leaving.”

  Mike thought about it for a minute. “If Joey believed that it was the only way to keep his wife from leaving him, then yeah, it makes sense.”

  “I think you’ve been hanging around with me too long,” I said. “That doesn’t sound like an answer you would have given me a few months ago.”

  “I’ve learned to look a little deeper,” he replied. “Do you think Stephen lied about what they talked about?”

  “I think we need to talk to Joey,” I said.

  “No, I need to talk to Joey,” he said. “You aren’t doing anything. And while we’re at it, we need to talk about you getting involved in my investigations.”

  “I know, I know. Don’t stick my nose into your business. I’m just a writer.”

  “Look, what happened today shouldn’t have happened at all.”

  “It’s not like I went there intentionally looking for trouble, Mike. It just happened.”

  “But it shouldn’t have happened at all,” he repeated. “Being in dangerous situations is part of my job, not yours. I live with it every day. And even though I know you don’t say anything, I know you worry about me. But dealing with certain types of criminals adds an extra element of danger. Criminals don’t always think logically. They’ll go after anyone if it will help their end game. I think you like the thrill of investigating because you like figuring things out. Probably too many years of watching ‘NCIS’ and ‘CSI’. But those shows are just pretend. This is real life, with very real consequences. I think what happened today proves that.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, you have to decide if this is the kind of life you want. It’s not always rainbows and sunshine. There’s bullets and death. Bad guys every day, not just once a week. And things aren’t always wrapped up in a nice, neat bow at the end of the hour.” He reached over and took my hand in his. “I know that I can’t always keep you safe. You’re fiercely independent; so am I. If I tell you to butt out, you’ll just gather your ragtag band of snoops and try to help me anyway.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  He sighed. “We work well together, and I want us to keep working well together. I’m probably going to keep asking you to stay out of my investigations. But I want you to promise me something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When you feel that you can’t butt out, then at least tell me what’s going on so I can help.”

  “So you’re going to let me help you from now on?”

  “I don’t have much of a choice, do I? It’s the only way to keep you safe. Besides, there are going to be times when your special type of skills might come in handy. But try to resist getting involved as much as possible. Are you okay with that?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll do my best. That’s all I can promise.”

  “Just don’t go off by yourself. Take someone with you, and if you can’t, at least let someone know where you’re at. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  The doorbell rang, cutting off that discussion for a moment. Mike got up and answered the door. I could hear him talking to someone, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying. When he came back, Randy was behind him, carrying take out from an Italian restaurant.

  “I thought you said she looked like death warmed over,” Randy said to Mike as he put the bags on the counter. “Pretty sure death has looked better than this.”

  “Very funny,” I retorted. “Don’t quit your day job.”

  He gave me a hug. “I heard the full story from your parents, but Mike’s officer wouldn’t give me any details. How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve been better.”

  Mike gathered up his files and carried them out of the room while Randy started taking containers out of the bags. “I got you chicken parmigiana. I hope that’s all right,” he said, placing the container in front of me.

  “Anything sounds good to me right now,” I said.

  They joined me at the table with their food, and for a few minutes we ate in silence. “What are people saying around town about the murder, Randy?” Mike asked.

  “A lot of talk about who they think might have killed her,” he replied, picking up a breadstick and breaking it in half. He offered me half of it.

  “Who’s in the lead?” I said.

  “It’s a tie between Joey Ingram and the Silvery Ghost of the Theatre.”

  I almost choked on the breadstick. “They think a ghost killed her?”

  “Well, think about it,” he replied. “Susan was killed between the first and second acts, in a building full of people. No one saw or heard anything. The murderer slipped in and out without being seen. Now wouldn’t you assume that she was killed by a ghost?”

  Mike shook his head. “Great, a paranormal murderer.”

  “Better not let Mac hear you say that,” I warned him. “He’s already mad at you.”

  “You mean the Vegas ghost?” Randy said. “He’s been around?”

  “You could say that,” Mike said, sounding a bit miffed.

  “Uh, oh, what happened?”

  “That ghost is a pervert,” Mike said.

  “He is not a pervert,” I replied.

  “Then why was he in the room when you were changing clothes?”

  “He didn’t know I was changing clothes when he popped in.”

  “Well, he should have popped right back out when he realized it!” Mike said hotly.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Randy said, “time out. Mac saw you naked?!”

  “I was not naked. I was changing my shirt when he showed up. It freaked me out to see him suddenly there, so I screamed. Mike came running with his gun drawn. When I realized it was Mac, Mike called him a pe
rvert, and Mac left in a huff.”

  “I’m afraid I have to agree with Cam. Mac just showed up at the wrong time.”

  “See, I told you so.”

  “Can we change the subject?” Mike asked, getting up to refill our drinks. “What else have you heard, Randy?”

  “That no one has seen Joey since last night during the first act.”

  Mike put a fresh glass of Dr Pepper in front of me as he sat down. “I’ve had my officers looking for him today, and they can’t find him. I wonder if there’s anywhere he would go to get away from it all for a few days.”

  “You mean like a cabin or some lakefront property?” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Why don’t you just call his father?” I suggested.

  “Clinton Ingram is what, late seventies, early eighties? You want me to call him, out of the blue, tell him that his daughter-in-law is dead, and would he just happen to know where his son is? Do you want me to give the man a heart attack?”

  Randy scoffed. “Have you seen Clinton lately? That man is as healthy as a horse, and he looks like he’s only seventy. Time has certainly been kind to him.”

  “I thought Clinton and Joey were on the outs,” I said as I started to get up. Randy stopped me, and took the empty container from me. “Wasn’t there a disagreement about a business deal or something a few years ago?”

  “I vaguely remember something about that,” Mike replied.

  “Do you think it had something to do with Susan’s death?” I said. “Surely not. That’s a long time to hold a grudge.”

  “You can sit there and say that with a straight face after what happened with the Ashtons?” Randy said incredulously. “Artie Shatton held that grudge for over fifty years.”

  “Good point,” I conceded.

  “Was Clinton on the guest list last night?” Mike asked me.

  “Didn’t Grandma Alma mentioned something about him being there? You’d have to ask Mother for the list to confirm that.

  “Hold on a minute,” Randy said, “I’ll be right back.” He got up, went into the other room, and came back with a manila folder, which he handed to Mike. “Mrs. Shaw knew that you were taking care of Cam tonight, so she stopped at the bookstore on her way home. She left this with me, asked if I’d make sure you got it.”

  “What is it?”

  “The guest list you asked for.”

  Mike handed it to me. “Could you look for Clinton’s name?”

  “Are you kidding? I don’t think I could focus on that right now.”

  “Right, sorry,” Mike said, opening the folder. He scanned the first page. “Here he is. Hm, that’s odd.”

  “What?” Randy and I said together.

  “Clinton’s name is marked out, and Joey and Reed’s names were written in. I wonder why.”

  “Oh buggers!” I said, shaking my head. “In all the excitement, I forgot that Mother told me Reed was sitting with Joey. Grandma Alma mistook him for Clinton.”

  “Do you two have any idea who might have hated Susan enough to kill her?” Mike asked us.

  “Susan had her own little clique,” Randy said. “She was on almost every committee known to man.”

  “Don’t exaggerate,” I admonished him.

  “Well, it’s true! She’s the head of the admissions board for the country club, she sits on the hospital board, the city council…you name it, she was either on the committee, or had major influence in the decisions that were made. If she didn’t like you, there was no way you could do anything socially in this town.”

  “How come she wasn’t on the committee for the theatre event?”

  “Most of the time, nobody wanted to sit on a committee with her,” I said. “But if it was a charity event, then she was definitely invited. She had more connections than the mayor, and they reached all the way to Austin. All she had to do was snap her fingers, and she could get whoever she wanted.”

  “We’re talking big name donors,” Randy said.

  “Mother practically begged her to be on the committee, but for some reason, Susan didn’t want to have anything to do with it. She said it wasn’t something that was worthy of her time.”

  “But then she found out Stephen Showalter was going to be there,” Mike said, “and she suddenly wanted to take over.”

  “Obviously for good reason, from what he told us at lunch,” I said.

  “I haven’t had the chance to ask you how that went,” Randy said. “Give me all the details.”

  I looked at Mike. “Up to you,” I said.

  “We’ll tell you, but it can’t go beyond this house,” Mike said.

  “Scout’s honor,” Randy said, holding up three fingers.

  “That’s Girl Scouts, you nit,” I laughed.

  “I always wanted to be in the Girl Scouts.”

  “If you aren’t going to take this seriously,” Mike began, but Randy cut him off.

  “I promise, on Cam’s head, not to say a word until you say I can.”

  “Leave my head out of this,” I said. “It’s been through enough today.”

  “We really need to fix your hair, girl,” Randy said, glancing at the white bandage. “They butchered it something awful.”

  “Do you want to know what Stephen said or not?” I asked him.

  “Tell me.”

  “Stephen Showalter knew Susan.”

  Randy’s eyes widened. “Do you mean in the Biblical sense?”

  “More like the biological sense,” I replied.

  “I’m confused.”

  “According to Stephen,” Mike said, “Susan Ingram was his mother.”

  Randy gasped. “Get the heck out of town! Are you serious?”

  “That’s what he says.”

  “Did you ask to see the birth certificate?”

  Mike and I looked at each other. “Birth certificate. Why didn’t we think of that?” he asked.

  “But if the Showalters adopted Stephen as soon as he was born, their names would be on it, not Susan’s, right?”

  “Probably.”

  “Why not just call his parents and ask them if it’s true?” Randy suggested.

  “Maybe you should hire Randy as a deputy,” I said. “He’s full of good ideas tonight.”

  Randy looked at his phone. “Well, I’m afraid I’m taking my ideas and going home. I have plans with Nigel later,” he said, standing up. He threw away his container and put the silverware in the sink. “Is there anything you need?”

  “We stopped by my place before we came here,” I said. “I have everything I need for now.”

  He gently hugged me. “Try to stay out of trouble, please. Do what he tells you to, and get some rest. Oh, before I forget, your agent called again. I really don’t like being your answering service. What do I tell him?”

  “Tell him the truth,” Mike said. “She had a minor accident, and will be out of touch for a couple of days.”

  “What if he asks me about the meeting with Showalter?”

  “You have no idea what happened at the meeting, and he’ll just have to wait to talk to me,” I replied. “What’s the worst he can do?”

  “He could show up at my bookstore again,” Randy said, “and I’d rather he not, if it’s all the same to you. Did you know that he’s gay?”

  “What?” I said. “Are you sure?”

  “Are you seriously asking me that?”

  “Forget I asked.”

  “All right, I’m out of here. Call me if you need anything,” Randy said. He gave me another hug and left.

  Mike finished cleaning up, while I sat at the table. “I could get used to this, you know,” I commented.

  “Used to what?”

  “Being waited on hand and foot.”

  He leaned over and looked me in the eye. “I wouldn’t mind having someone wait on me hand and foot once in awhile, either,” he said, giving me a kiss that would have melted butter.

  His ringing phone and the doorbell went off at the same time. “I’ll
get the phone, if you’ll get the door,” he said.

  “Deal.”

  I slowly made my way to the front door, grateful that there was only one dim light on. My head was starting to hurt again, and I was ready to lay down for a while. I opened the door, and saw a woman standing on the front porch. She was about my height, long black hair, wearing a pair of skintight leather pants tucked into knee high black boots, and a black leather jacket over a black shirt. I stared at her for a minute. “Officer Reagan?”

  “Cam, what a…surprise,” she said. “I thought you were supposed to be recuperating at home.”

  “The doctor wanted someone to keep an eye on me just in case something happened,” I told her. “Mike thought I might get more peace and quiet here instead of my house. If I was at home, my mother would be constantly calling or dropping by to check on me.”

  “I see,” she said, although it was obvious she didn’t understand.

  “Did you need to see Mike about something?”

  “Um, well, yes, but it’s not important,” she said. “I can talk to him tomorrow at work.”

  “Who’s at the door, Cam?” Mike said from behind me. “Reagan, what are you doing here?”

  “The preliminary report from the medical examiner came in after you left, and I thought you’d want to see it,” she said, handing him the folder I hadn’t noticed she had in her hand.

  “Come on in, and we can go over it since you’re here,” Mike said.

  She glanced at me. “In front of a civilian, sir? Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

  “I value Cam’s opinion. Sometimes she offers a different perspective that, as cops, we don’t think about. I’ve learned to have an open mind.”

  Reagan frowned, her disapproval clearly evident on her face. “They taught us at the Academy to never involve civilians or family, sir. They can cloud our judgment.”

  “They’re right,” Mike agreed. “But this woman saved my life last year. If she hadn’t had the presence of mind to tuck a gun in her waistband under her shirt, three people would have died. I didn’t listen to her until it was almost too late. I don’t plan to make that same mistake again.”

  “But she was hurt today, sir,” Reagan pointed out, “because she got involved. I think that should be a good enough reason not to involve her any further in this case.”