by Eryn Scott
“But I was only supposed to be here for a few days, tops. I have to sign some papers and then I’m leaving.” I shoved my chair back as I stood too.
The chief pushed his hands into his pockets. “We’ll try to figure out what happened as soon as possible. I’m sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for, but I think the late Mr. Mastronardi is even more inconvenienced than you.” He turned and let himself out the back door.
“As if this day could get any weirder …” I said aloud as he cut through the garden pathway out toward the front of the house.
Asher’s lips pressed into a grim line. “He had your name on him?”
“And they found his car up at the cliff. All of that sounds like he committed suicide, right?” I paused “So why does he think I had something to do with any of it?”
Running his hand across his chin, Asher paced in front of me. “Don’t worry. You’re innocent, right?” He regarded me as if he wasn’t sure what my answer would be.
“Of course I am!” I threw my hands up.
Asher backed away. “Okay, sorry. Making sure. I just met you.”
I scoffed, “The ghost I just met is making sure I’m not a murderer.” I let out a dry laugh.
My sentence, meant as a lighthearted joke, instead highlighted the craziness of my day. Was this my reality now? I was talking to a ghost about being a suspect in an actual murder. The chief’s words pressed in on me, trapping me like the squirrel that got caught in our library drop bin last year.
My chest heaved up and down in rapid breaths, I started pacing.
“I can’t do this. I can’t stay here. First, you tell me my grandma, who I haven’t spoken to in fifteen years, has been murdered, then you’re a ghost, a dead body washes up on the beach, and I’m somehow a suspect in it all.” Reciting the list of problems made my head spin.
Worry clawed at my throat in hot waves. My wild eyes scanned the house, searching for a way out. My keys lit up like a beacon. I grabbed them off the table, grasping them in my hand so tight I knew they would leave a mark.
“I was only supposed to stay for a few days, and now I’m not supposed to leave? I need to leave. I have to get out of here. None of this is happening.” I laughed. “It’s all in my imagination.” My eyes widened. “That’s it. I’m hallucinating because I’m hungry, and all I’ve eaten in hours are stale cookies. I’m going to eat real food, and all of this will go away.”
Asher studied me like a bomb that might go off at any second.
I waved a hand at him. “I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this, since you aren’t real.”
In my manic state, I heard him say, “Rosemary … just take one breath.”
I froze, ice water surged through my veins. “What?”
“Start with one deep breath and then another.” He watched me carefully.
Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes. “She used to say that.”
His lips pulled into a sad smile. “I know.”
The reality of this unreal situation came crashing back down on me. I could deny it, insist I was going crazy, pretend it wasn’t happening all I wanted. It wouldn’t change the facts. This was something I couldn’t run from, couldn’t hide from until it went away.
I sighed. “Can’t we wait until her spirit settles to ask her who did this?” I asked.
Asher tensed. “I don’t remember how I died. None of the other spirits I’ve encountered do either. I think it’s why ghosts seek the help of humans so often. They’re trying to piece it together. I doubt your grandma would remember anything from the night she died.”
My heart ached for both of them. I couldn’t tell if it was worse not to know what happened or to relive the possibly awful last moments of one’s life repeatedly.
“Her spirit won’t be able to move on if her killer isn’t brought to justice?”
Asher shrugged. “It’s all about unfinished business. That could be the reason she can’t move on.” He cleared his throat. “Or it could be something else.”
That he had yet to move on made me wonder what was keeping him here, but by the way he wasn’t meeting my eyes, he either didn’t know or wasn’t ready to share that information yet.
“Well, I’d say it’s obvious the police won’t be any help,” I said. My disappointment about Chief Clemenson’s distrust in me sat at the bottom of my stomach like a rock. “So if I have to stick around for a while anyway, we might as well find out who did this to her.”
Asher took a step forward. “I know this is a lot to take in, but running away from it won’t help. I can talk you through it.”
I took one breath. Then another. Settling into a chair, I took a third.
“This is real?”
He nodded.
“And I have to stay and deal with it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Okay, I think I’m going to need a minute.” I pulled out my phone.
He squinted. “What are you doing?”
“A minute and a pizza, actually. That’s what I need.”
When a knock sounded at the front door six minutes later, I let my eyebrows rise, impressed. Even in the bustling city of Portland where a pizza place was around a corner from me, it took them at least twenty minutes to cook and deliver my pies.
I was all set to give the delivery person the best tip in the history of pizza deliveries for this faster-than-the-speed-of-light arrival. But when I opened the door, the man standing on the other side was definitely not here to deliver a pizza.
He had about ten inches on me and a good ten years. His dark gray suit warned of self-satisfied tendencies, something his slicked-back blond hair and bright white teeth further confirmed. His sharp, spicy cologne forced its way inside, making my nose tingle and itch.
“That’s the mayor,” Asher said, almost making me jump. I hadn’t even noticed he’d followed me to the door.
Focusing my attention on the live man in front of me instead of the dead one behind me, I said, “Hello.”
The man shoved a large hand in my direction. “Hi, there. Name’s Sam Hoff, I’m the mayor here in Pebble Cove.”
Asher let out a quiet, “See?” from over my shoulder.
I shook his hand. “Hi, Mayor.” My words came out slow and wary, sounding much less like a greeting and more like an accusation. I peered around him, still holding out a little hope he might have my pizza with him.
“May I come in?” he asked with a sweeping gesture toward the tearoom.
I stepped back, and he strutted inside. Asher followed him, his posture stiffening. Inside the tearoom, Mayor Hoff glanced around before turning his gaze back to me.
“I wanted to make sure you were settling in okay. Do you have questions about our town?” He flashed another bright white smirk in my direction.
Asher scoffed, “Sure, that’s why you came.”
“Do you greet every new person face-to-face?” I asked, ignoring Asher’s commentary.
The mayor inclined his head. “Why not? Small towns, am I right?” He chuckled. “In all seriousness, I hear you had a bit of a surprise today.”
Which one? I thought to myself with a snort. Deciding there was no way he could know about Grandma’s murder or the ghost standing next to him, I figured he was talking about the dead body on the beach.
I stayed silent. Over the years, I’d learned that I needed to talk much less than one would think. So if I was feeling awkward or overwhelmed, my default was to stay quiet. People would fill in the space with their own words.
“Tragic.” The mayor swiped at his upper lip, which I noticed was beaded with sweat. “You know the man?”
Shaking my head vehemently, I caught a spark of intensity just behind the mayor’s eyes. He was fishing for information. Ah, so that’s why he was here. Understanding washed over me. He’d probably been sent over by Police Chief Clemenson to do more digging.
“I heard he knew you,” Mayor Hoff said as if proving my point. “And he came from Portland, like y
ou.” The man raised a blond eyebrow.
“Portland is a big city. It’s not like Pebble Cove. We don’t know everyone who lives there like you guys do down here.” Feeling a little fiery, I added, “The mayor of Portland also doesn’t make house calls.”
A wide grin spread across his handsome face. “Of course.” He laughed, but there was something about the motivation behind it that made it seem more like a threat than a happy gesture. “So you really haven't ever heard of Frank Mastronardi? You didn’t meet with him or even speak to him?” I felt like if the mayor had a small desk lamp, he would’ve turned the shade up to point it at me like in an interrogation room.
I shook my head again.
The mayor’s eyes searched my face in a way that made me want to shiver. Then his gaze settled on the pile of political signs I’d noticed earlier, leaning up against the staircase to the second floor.
The mayor’s jaw clenched, causing a muscle to flex in his cheek. “Well, nice to meet you, Rosealee. I’ll see myself out.”
“It’s Rosemary, you cad,” Asher called after him as the man’s large form retreated from the room.
I smiled over at Asher in thanks, but the whole encounter had me reeling. If these people believed I had something to do with that man’s death, I was in way more trouble than I thought.
6
Once the mayor left, I paced and breathed during the seventeen and a half minutes it took my pizza to arrive. The confusing visit/interrogation made my hunger even more pronounced. I almost hugged the poor teenager who delivered the food.
“Okay. Where do we go from here?” I asked once I’d finished my first slice.
Asher scratched at his temple. “Next door, of course.”
I spun toward him, flicking a little sauce in his direction. “Because you think this angry Carl neighbor had something to do with all of this like I do?”
“Wrong direction.” Asher pointed the other way.
“Daphne?” My mouth fell open. “I mean, I wouldn’t have suspected her, but I guess people aren’t always what they seem.”
Asher chuckled. “She didn’t have anything to do with your grandma’s death.” He paused, studying the ceiling before adding, “At least, I hope she didn’t. The woman knows everything that happens in Pebble Cove. If someone had it in for your grandma, she would know.”
“So we just walk over there?” I asked.
“You just walk over there,” he said, shooting me a pointed look.
I touched my nose then took another bite of pizza. “Thanks for the reminder. Yes, I’m going to walk over there and …”
“Apologize for not being chattier earlier,” Asher suggested. He rolled his shoulders back. I wondered if it was a habit left over from living or if he could still feel the stretch.
“I wasn’t chatty enough?” I asked, my voice wavering in my disbelief. “Psh. You’re one to talk. Do you want to know what my nickname for you was until we started talking?”
His eyes sparkled. “Definitely.”
“Mr. Surly Suspenders.”
Asher let out a booming laugh and hooked his thumbs through his suspenders. “I like it. Well then, I apologize for my behavior before. When no one can hear you, you stop worrying about how the things you say sound.”
I smiled. “I don’t ever stop worrying about what I say. Mostly, I opt to not say anything to people.”
“Huh, you seem pretty chatty to me.”
He was right. I’d been talking with him, no problem. Maybe the fact that he wasn’t alive gave me a weird freedom to be myself, not to worry what he thought. Maybe I could be a Rosie after all.
I brought the rest of my slice with me as I got ready to leave. I also grabbed an extra bag of the Women’s Liber-tea blend, saying, “Just in case” when Asher gave me a questioning frown. Together, we walked outside and headed next door, toward Daphne Bertraud’s yellow home.
Shooting me a sidelong glance as we walked, Asher asked, “What does pizza taste like?”
After swallowing my last bite, I said, “Omigosh, you’ve never tried pizza?” His face morphed into an exasperated expression that told me to think about it. I slapped my hand onto my forehead. “Of course you wouldn’t. Well, it’s doughy—like the best kind of bread—and then cover that with tangy tomato sauce and gooey cheese. It’s the best thing ever.”
Asher’s face seemed to brighten as I described the food. But at the end of my description, all the pizza sat like a lump of uncooked dough in my stomach as I contemplated Asher never getting to experience things like food ever again.
We walked in silence. My feet crunched on the paved lane between the houses. Seagulls cried as they circled above. The scent of sea salt tickled my nose, reminding me the ocean was still near, even if I couldn’t see it.
When we reached Daphne’s white picket fence, Asher reached forward. Chuckling, he shook his head. “Sorry, my instincts kicked in. I haven’t been on a walk with a lady since I was alive.” His chest heaved up and down in a sigh.
My lips tipped up at the corner. I didn’t prefer people paying attention to me, but having Asher call me a lady gave me an odd flutter in my stomach that I didn’t hate. I opened the gate and walked through, careful not to hold it open for him in case that would look odd.
As we reached Daphne’s front porch, I realized Asher’s body appeared hazier, more ghostly. The farther away from his home and the places he’d frequented when he was alive, the more translucent he became.
I was about to comment on this when the front door swung open.
“Why, hello there,” Daphne said. “Imagine finding you on my porch.”
I hadn’t even knocked. “Oh hey, Daphne.” I blinked in my surprise.
From beside me, I saw Asher moving his hands in a circle to encourage me to keep talking.
Shoving the tea offering toward her, I said, “I wanted to apologize for not being friendlier earlier when you stopped by. It was a little overwhelming to be back in my grandma’s house after so long. It wasn’t about you.”
Was it me, or did Daphne’s green eyes sparkle a little at my mention of family troubles?
“Thank you.” She took the bag and waved her free hand in my direction. “Don’t you worry one second about it.” Then just as I hoped she would, she added, “Would you like to come in and talk?”
I tilted my head forward. “I’d love that.”
Daphne stepped aside to let me in, and I shot Asher a quick wink while she had her back to us closing the door.
Her house was bright, clean, and could’ve been in one of those beachy decor magazines. There were shells on almost every surface, rope covered trinkets, anything that could be made from sea glass was, and the walls held signs that said things like, “Life’s a Beach” and “This Way to the Beach.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, gesturing for me to sit on a white and blue striped sofa that looked out at the water.
Wanting to get straight to the questions I had for Daphne, I declined. “No, thank you.” I plopped onto the sofa, and Asher settled next to me.
Daphne set the bag of tea on a side table. She sat on a wicker chair with a crab pillow and clasped her hands in her lap. “So …”
Scratching at the side of my nose, I said, “So.”
How can I jump into a conversation like my grandma’s murder? I wondered, wishing I’d planned this out a little better with Asher before coming inside. We should’ve been discussing a plan of what to ask her instead of the merits of pizza on our way over.
“How long have you lived here?” I asked after a long pause.
I couldn’t look over at Asher without seeming completely crazy, but I felt the disappointment radiating off him.
Daphne smiled politely. “I inherited this house from my father about ten years ago.”
I remembered the older man with the kind, wrinkly eyes and weatherworn skin. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” My cheeks colored. “I mean—not sorry that you have this house, just sorry
he’s not around anymore.”
“Thank you,” she said, but those two words were all she offered.
Her feet shifted under her and she watched me. I became excruciatingly aware of the silence, of the fact that she expected me to carry this conversation.
When she tapped her foot with impatience, I panicked and blurted out, “On second thought, I’ll take you up on that drink.”
Daphne got up after asking me if I’d was okay with water. Once I’d answered that I was, and she left the room, I turned to Asher.
“You said she was chatty,” I whispered. “This is not chatty.”
He opened his hands. “Usually she is! Your grandma couldn’t ever get her to shut up.”
“Then why isn’t she saying anything now? She invited me in to talk. I figured she’d have a list of questions for me. How do I broach the subject of my grandma? Do I just come out and ask her?”
Asher exhaled. “Honestly, I’m stumped. In my experience she would’ve spilled all the information already. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t know you that well.”
That sentence made a light bulb flip on in my brain. Sally, a librarian at work, came to mind. “Wait. I might not live in a small town, but one of the librarians where I work is a huge gossip. I’ve observed her. If someone doesn’t give her any information first, she’ll barely tell them her dog’s name. But once they share a secret of their own, she’d tell them the nuclear codes if she had them. Information is currency with people like Sally and Daphne.”
Lips pursed, Asher appeared rather impressed with me. “Okay, do you have something to give her, then?”
I reflected back to the way Daphne’s eyes had twinkled when I’d mentioned it being hard for me to be back at my grandma’s house. I nodded.
Daphne bustled back into the room, carrying a glass of water. “Here you go, Rosie.”
“Thank you.” I smiled up at her as I took the drink. “I have a weird favor to ask.”
Daphne’s face lit up. She took her seat in the wicker chair once more.
“Well, as you may know, my mother and I were estranged from my grandma Helen,” I started.
