Who Invited the Ghost to Dinner: A Ghost Writer Mystery

by Teresa Watson

  “I’m sure Prufrock squawked about letting his client go for now.”

  “Oh yes, he did. Wait, how did you know Prufrock was his lawyer?”

  “Lucky guess. Who else would someone like Joey have?”

  “Mac told you.”

  “Mac told me.”

  “Did you send him to spy on me?”

  I shook my head. “I would never do that to you.”

  The look on his face told me that he didn’t quite believe me, but he let it slide.

  “How did you know where to find me?” I asked him. “Officer Reagan.”

  “She mentioned that she talked to you earlier. We had an interesting chat. I had no idea she was having such a hard time.”

  “Far be it from me to tell you how to do your job, Mike. I can only imagine the things you and your officers go through. But maybe you should have a bullpen session once a week, and find out how they’re doing. See if they have questions about procedures, things like that. Maybe she’s not the only one who is wondering about things.”

  “You know, that’s not a bad idea,” he said. “I certainly learned a couple of things myself just talking to Reagan. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “About last night and this morning…”

  I held up my hand. “Please, I should apologize.”

  “We both should.”

  “You’re right.” I thought about how to say this next thing. “I know you don’t want me to get involved in your investigations, but I can help you in other ways, if you’ll let me.”

  “How?”

  “Mike,” Dad said as he walked over to us. “Good to see you. How are things going?”

  “Fine, sir, thank you.”

  “If you two are going to occupy one of my booths, the least I can do is get you some lunch. Charlotte has made some chili. I’ll be glad to bring you both a bowl if you’d like.”

  “Dad…”

  “That sounds great, Reverend Shaw,” Mike interrupted me. “And two glasses of sweet tea.”

  “Coming right up.”

  I shook my head as he walked away. “Sorry about that.”

  “He means well,” Mike said. “Now, in what way can you help me?”

  “Well, I know you run background checks on any suspects, but how deep do they usually go?”

  “That depends on how serious of a suspect we think they are. But for the most part, we are pretty thorough.”

  “Here we go,” Dad said, sliding two bowls of chili onto the table. “Enjoy.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “You’re welcome, kiddo.”

  Regina put two glasses of tea down, and took away my Dr Pepper glass.

  “Did you have someone do the background work on Desmond Long Jr. and Scott VanMeter yet?”

  “No, not yet.”

  I move my laptop aside and moved my notepad over. “I thought I might be able to help you out.”

  “Well, that was nice of you, but not really necessary.”

  “Mike…”

  “Sorry, go ahead.”

  I looked through my notes. “Scott VanMeter is pretty clean. Married, two kids, good credit.”

  “Wait, did you hack the credit companies or something?”

  “No, Mike, I didn’t. I know people who know people. I emailed a couple of his co-workers, and all they all sang his praises.”

  “And Long Jr.?”

  “Deep in debt, divorced. He’s estranged from his youngest son, who is serving overseas in the Marines. And no one had a kind thing to say about him.”

  “I guess he’ll be the first one I talk to,” Mike said.

  “That’s not all.”

  “There’s more?”

  “Oh yes. His father was a close friend of Clinton Ingram.”

  “Interesting, but hardly earth shattering, Cam,” Mike replied, taking a drink of his tea.

  “He was listed on the board of directors when the company first started.”

  “So?”

  “So how does a man who is on the ground floor of a company that is just getting on its feet afford a $100,000 house in the early 1960s?”

  “He knew where Clinton got the money.”

  “That’s what I think,” I said. “Desmond Jr. was hired to work at the company shortly before his father retired. What if the blackmail continued?”

  “There’s only one way we could find that out,” Mike said. “We need to look at the bank records.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Tell me you didn’t.”

  “I’m just suggesting that you look at them. I’m not implying anything more than that. If he was blackmailing Clinton, then that might explain how he got the board to name him interim president. The right word in one or two members’ ears and the vote suddenly swings in his favor.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” Mike said. “When Clinton died, Desmond Jr. would have had no one to blackmail.”

  “Sure he does. Joey.”

  “You think he blackmailed Joey to keep people from finding out about the mob money from way back then?”

  “If Joey knows where his father got the money.” I saw the skeptical look on his face. “Oh, come on, Mike. It’s certainly not that crazy of an idea. The mob still carries a certain connotation, even today. Just the implication that the mob had anything to do with a business could kill it, especially around here.”

  “Maybe,” Mike conceded, “but it would help if we could talk to the board members, and find out who voted for who and why.”

  “Wouldn’t something like that be public record?”

  “No, because it’s not a public company. It’s privately owned. If the company wants board meeting notes published in the local paper, that’s their choice. But most don’t want their business affairs aired in public.”

  “Unless you’re mega rich, and like to brag about it,” I said.

  We finished our lunch, and I put my things back in my messenger bag. I waved to my parents, who were standing behind the counter talking, as we walked out the front door. “Oh dang it,” I said as soon as we hit the sidewalk, “I’m parked in the back.”

  “How come?”

  I blushed. “Because I didn’t want you to know where I was at. I wanted some time to myself after our argument.”

  “I can understand that. Come on, I’ll walk with you to your car.”

  “Oh no, that’s all right,” I told him, digging my keys out of the side pocket of my bag. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Want to get together tonight and compare notes later?”

  “Really?”

  “I figure that if I keep making you mad, you’ll eventually go off on your own,” he said, pulling me closer to him. “This way, at least I’ll know what you’re up to, and I can protect you.”

  “Promise me that if I get too pushy, you’ll keep telling me to back off.”

  “Trust me, I will.”

  “Fair enough. Give me a call later, and we’ll figure something out. I have to do some actual work for a client this afternoon, although I’d much rather be digging for more information.”

  “Let me do the digging this afternoon,” Mike said.

  “That’s fine. I still have my history professor to take care of.” I looked around. “We can’t keep standing here like this, you know. People are starting to stare,” I told him, pointing to the front window of the coffeehouse. My parents were kneeling in one of the booths, watching us. We waved at them, and they waved back.

  “I’ll call you later,” he laughed as he let me go. “Be careful.”

  “You, too.”

  I walked around the corner to the alleyway and turned right toward my car. I removed my bag from my shoulder, and pressing a button unlocked the doors. As I reached for the passenger side door, I heard someone running up behind me. Before I could turn around, they shoved me hard into the side of the car, knocking the wind out of me. I dropped my bag, but managed to push the panic button on my key fob, which caused the car alarm
to go off.

  “Tell your cop boyfriend to stay out of my business,” a voice growled in my ear, “or you’ll both end up like the Ingrams.” Whoever it was shoved me to the ground and took off down the alley to the right.

  Mike came running around the corner from the left, with his gun drawn, at the same time my parents came out the back door of the coffeehouse. “Cam, what happened?” Mike said, holstering his Colt and kneeling down next to me

  Dad took the key fob out of my hand and turned the alarm off. He and Mike helped me to my feet. “Are you all right?” Dad asked me.

  I nodded as I took some deep breaths.

  “Charlotte, go get a glass of water,” Dad said.

  As Mother hurried ahead of us, Mike and Dad led me inside and into the office. Mother came back with the water, and I took it from her, taking a long drink.

  “What happened?” Mike asked me again.

  “Someone was waiting back there for me,” I said.

  “Did you get a good look at them?” he said.

  I shook my head. “Whoever it was said to tell you to stop sticking your nose in their business, or we’d both end up like the Ingrams.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Mother said from the doorway.

  “Doesn’t thrill me, either,” Dad said.

  “Was it a man or woman?” Mike wanted to know.

  “A man, I think. Or it might have been a woman, forcing themselves to speak in a low voice. It sounded like they were growling in my ear as they talked.”

  “Why don’t you go home?” Mike suggested. “You can work from there this afternoon, right?”

  “She can stay at our house,” Mother replied.

  “No,” I said, handing my glass back to her, “I’ve got some things to do at the library.”

  “Are you sure?” Dad said.

  “I’m fine,” I assured him. “I just had the wind knocked out me. No autopsy, no foul.”

  “You call us if you need us, you hear me?” he said, giving me a big hug.

  “I will, I promise,” I told him, hugging Mother, too.

  “Come on, I’ll make sure you get to the car this time,” Mike said.

  We went out the back door. Mike looked up and down the alley to make sure no one was there before letting me get near the car. Picking up my bag, he put it in the front passenger seat while I walked around to the driver’s side. “Thank you,” I said as he came around and opened the door for me.

  “We really need to sign you up for a self-defense class,” he said as I got into the car.

  “I hit the panic button,” I reminded him. “Isn’t that one of the things they say to do in the event of an emergency?”

  “Yes, it is, and you’re lucky that your parents were still here, and that I was close by. Do I need to remind you this is the second time someone has jumped you?”

  “I’m keeping count, thank you very much.”

  “I have to disagree with your parents, though. Don’t go home.”

  “Why not? I have a security alarm.”

  “But it won’t protect you from the car until you get inside,” he said.

  “And just where do you suggest I go?”

  “I thought you were going to the library.”

  “I just said that to make Mother feel better. They’re closed this afternoon for a staff meeting.”

  “You could come down to the station and work there.”

  “No way. I would feel like you were babysitting me.”

  “Bookstore?”

  “I could, but then Randy would want to know why I was there, and he’d ask me a bunch of questions about you. Not in the mood to play twenty questions.”

  “God, you are being stubborn! Fine, follow me to the station.”

  “I told you, I’m not going to stay there.”

  “You aren’t going to stay there,” he retorted. “If you won’t stay some place safe, then I’ll just have to take you with me while I go talk to Scott VanMeter and Desmond Long Jr..”

  I tried not to bounce in my seat with excitement. Mike just shook his head at me and closed the door. I was going to be a part of this investigation after all.

  Chapter 33

  I parked next to Mike’s truck at the station, grabbed my bag and got out. Mike was waiting for me in front of my car. “I need to grab something from my office before we go,” he told me.

  “I’ll wait in the truck.”

  “Not a chance,” he replied. He took my hand and pulled me toward the front door. “After what just happened, I’m keeping you close to me.”

  That statement was loaded with all sorts of innuendos and possibilities, but going inside was not one of those that my heart jump for joy. “People are going to think you’re arresting me if you drag me inside,” I said.

  “After what happened during the Ashton case, half of them would agree you deserve to spend some time in a cell, especially after Prufrock’s office blew up.”

  “I had nothing to do with that!”

  “Prufrock wouldn’t agree with you,” he laughed as we walked in.

  Joanne was manning the front desk when we walked in. She smiled when she saw me. “Good afternoon, Chief Penhall, Ms. Shaw.”

  “Please, just call me Cam.”

  “Any messages for me, Reagan?”

  “Just one, from Mr. Ingram’s lawyer,” she replied, handing him a pink slip of paper. “He has the information you want regarding Clinton Ingram’s will. He’d like for you to stop by his office at your earliest convenience.”

  “Speak of the devil,” I muttered.

  “Thanks,” he said to her before turning to me. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

  “I want to thank you for the advice,” Joanne said as Mike walked down the hall. “I had a good talk with the chief. You were right; he had no idea I was having such a hard time. He told me to feel free to ask him questions at any time. And he said that he’d introduce me to people in town.”

  “That’s great,” I said, smiling at her. “I’m glad it worked out so well.”

  She looked toward Mike’s office. “Why did he bring you here? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “No,” I laughed. “He just wants to keep an eye on me. Someone attacked me in the parking lot behind the coffeehouse a little while ago.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Do you have a description of the person?” she asked, pulling out a piece of paper.

  “No description. I didn’t get a look at whoever it was. They hit me from behind.”

  “Did they take anything?”

  “No, just issued a threat, and ran off.”

  “What kind of threat?”

  “One that we’re taking very seriously,” Mike said as he rejoined us. “Check through reports for the past couple of weeks, and pull any of them that are random attacks. Pull any of them where threats were made by the perp. I want a list of where the attacks happened, the name of the victim, and I want to know if anyone of them named their attackers.”

  “Yes, sir, I’m on it.”

  “Are you ready to go?”

  “Absolutely. Nice seeing you again, Joanne.”

  “Take care.”

  “Why were you telling her about the attack?”

  “She wanted to know why I was there. She thought I was in trouble,” I replied, giving him an “I told you so” look.

  We climbed into his truck. “I have a feeling that there won’t be any other random attacks like yours,” Mike said, as he started the engine and backed out. “This was too specific. They were using you to get to me.”

  “Isn’t that ego of yours getting a bit too big?” I said. “You keep assuming that they’re trying to send you a message. How do you know this isn’t about me?”

  “Now whose ego is too big?”

  “I’m just pointing out that the message said both, not just one of us.”

  “That’s why we’re going to ask the lawyer,” Mike replied.r />
  “You think it was Joey?”

  “I think it’s a big coincidence that a couple of hours after we released him, you get ambushed. I’m going to talk to Prufrock and find out if he knows where Joey went after we released him.”

  A few minutes later, we parked in front of Prufrock’s office. The last time I was here, someone had left him for dead in his office while the place was on fire. I had helped save his life. He wasn’t very grateful, though. He never said so out loud, but I was pretty sure he still blamed me for what happened.

  Rose Murphy walked out the front door as we got out of the truck. Her mail bag was slung across her chest, and she was looking at a handful of envelopes in her hand. “Good afternoon, folks!” she said, a big smile on her face “How are you two doing today?”

  “Just fine, Rose,” I said. “And you?”

  “Wonderful! My son just told me that he and his new wife are going to make me a grandmother. My husband and I are so excited.”

  “That’s great news. Congratulations! When is the baby due?”

  “Early summer. I’ve already started crocheting a baby blanket. Adam is building a cradle.”

  “How cool. Please give them my best.”

  “Will do. Have to get going. Y’all take care!”

  Mike opened the door for me, and we walked inside. The reception area had been redone after the fire, and it was warm and inviting. Doris Jones, his new secretary, was sitting at her desk, going through the mail that Rose had just dropped off. “Chief Penhall, what a surprise. What brings you by?” she asked as she sliced a letter open with a small silver knife.

  “Mr. Prufrock asked me to stop by,” he told her.

  She picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Chief Penhall is here to see you. Will do.” She hung up and pointed to her left. “He’s in his office, last door on the right.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Jones,” Mike said.

  We walked down the hall, and stopped in front of a closed door. Mike knocked. “Come in.”

  He opened the door and we went inside. Prufrock was sitting behind a huge oak desk, studying a file in front of him. “Mr. Prufrock, thank you for seeing me,” Mike said as we sat down in the dark red leather chairs in front of the desk.