by Terri Reid
“You wanted a ghost to cooperate with you?” she asked.
He nodded his head, which actually caused his cheek to rub against his own shoulder. “Yes, that was the plan,” he explained. “We were going to have the most haunted house in the Midwest and people would pay good money to spend the night and experience the supernatural.”
“Ah,” Mary replied, understanding the situation. “And the ghost refused to play along with the scheme.”
“Exactly,” he said with a wide smile. “And me and Sol needed a ghost to show up pretty soon or we were going to lose our investment.”
“How long ago did you die?”
“What month is it?” he asked.
“October,” she answered.
His eyes widened again. “Wow, I died in the summer. It was June,” he said. “What have I been doing for all those months?”
“That’s a good question,” Mary said. “And why did you suddenly decide to come and see me?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” he replied. “My business partner, Sol Atkinson, came by to see you at your office. I tagged along with him.”
“Mr. Atkinson,” Mary said slowly. “Oh, the man who wanted me to verify he had a haunted house. That Mr. Atkinson?”
Marty nodded again. “Yeah, he’s still trying to get his investment back,” he said.
“But, if you died at that house and you’re a ghost, why aren’t you haunting it?” she asked.
Marty started to speak, then stopped and shook his head. “Why, I never even thought of that,” he said. Then he started to laugh. “Isn’t that the damnedest thing? Here I could have been haunting the house all along, but all I ever do is just hang around with Sol.”
Mary studied Marty for a few moments before she spoke again. “Marty, do you remember your funeral?” she asked.
He paused for a moment, rubbing his chin with his hand. “No, I can’t say I do,” he finally replied. “I don’t remember anything like that at all.”
“Would you mind if I did a little checking on your death?” she asked.
He shrugged, which caused his head to bounce on his shoulder for a moment. Lifting one hand, he set it back in place. “No, I don’t mind at all,” he said. “Do you think that’s my problem? That I don’t remember my funeral and that’s why I’m still here?”
She smiled at him and nodded. “Well, I think that might be one of them,” she answered evasively. “But once I know about your funeral, I’ll be able to fill in some of the other pieces of the puzzle.”
“Yes. This is a puzzle,” he admitted. “And I’d really appreciate any help you can offer.”
She slipped from the stool and walked across the room to him. “I’d be very happy to help you,” she said sincerely. “And I promise I’ll do all I can to make sure we get you home.”
“Thank you,” Marty said, a tear rolling out of his eye, across the bridge of his nose and across his cheek to land on his shoulder. “I think I’d like going home.”
“Yes, I think you’d like it, too,” she said.
With a bright smile, he slowly faded away until he was no longer in the room. “Well, that took a lot less time than I had expected,” Mike said.
“What took a lot less time?” Mary asked, walking back across the kitchen and picking up the ice cream and spoon.
“Finding out the reason,” he said.
She scooped a spoonful into her mouth. “The reason for what?” she asked around a mouthful of ice cream.
“The reason you had to have the article printed in the paper,” he said.
She put the ice cream down and stared at him, astonished. “Wow, you’re right,” she said. “That is amazing. I guess everything is on the right track after all.”
Mike nodded. “Yeah, what could possibly go wrong?”
Chapter Eighteen
Mary absently took another bite of the ice cream while she considered Marty and his situation. Sol had given her the creeps the moment she met him, and now she wondered if that was her years of law enforcement training kicking in, rather than her ghostly abilities. She pictured the tall, well-groomed, assertive man and wondered if he would be capable of murder.
“Sharing?”
She nearly jumped off the kitchen stool when Bradley’s voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked up through the dim lights to see him standing next to the silverware drawer, reaching for his own spoon. With a relieved smile, she slid the carton of ice cream over to him as he took a seat on the stool next to hers. He stuck his spoon in, scooped out the ice cream and took a bite. “Actually,” he said, his mouth filled. “I was referring to your thoughts. But this stuff is really good.”
He slid it back so it was between the two of them. “So, what’s going on?”
“I had a visitor tonight,” she said. “A middle-aged fellow who died during the summer. And I have a feeling he’s connected to a man that stopped by my office yesterday.”
“And by yesterday, you mean two days ago, right?” Bradley said, glancing over at the clock than now read 1:00 a.m.
Following his glance, she smiled and nodded. “Yes, right, two days ago,” she repeated. “Stanley and Rosie were at my office and we were talking about the barrage of calls I received because of the article—“
“You didn’t tell me about that,” he interrupted.
“Well, I was going to before we were interrupted by the street brawl,” she said. And then in a lighter tone she added, “Oh, Bradley, by the way, I was barraged by calls yesterday at the office because people read the article about me.”
Grinning, he nodded. “Well, thanks for telling me, Mary,” he replied before he scooped up another spoonful. “Now you may continue.”
“Thank you,” she teased. “So, while I was telling them, this business man, Sol Atkinson, walked into the office, totally ignored both of them and then proceeded to tell me that he was going to allow me to increase my exposure and publicity by verifying that his house was haunted.”
“Well, how nice of him,” he replied sarcastically.
“That’s exactly what I thought,” she said with a nod. “So I politely told him, as Ian would say, to piss off.”
“I’m sure he wasn’t too happy about it,” he said with a smile.
“No, he wasn’t,” she said. “So he slapped a check for five thousand dollars on my desk and told me he’d be in touch at the end of the week because he was sure I’d change my mind.”
Bradley dropped his spoon. “Five thousand dollars?” he asked. “That’s a lot of money just for someone to say you’ve got ghosts in your house.”
“Yes, I thought so, too,” she said, digging into the carton again. “And then tonight I met Marty.”
“And you think Marty is connected to Sol?”
She nodded. “Yes, Marty told me the way he found me is that he is tagging along with Sol and saw him speaking with me,” she explained. “Marty was Sol’s partner in this haunted house venture. They bought this old house and wanted to advertise it as haunted so people would pay money to spend the night and experience paranormal events.”
“How did they know the house was haunted?” Bradley asked.
“It looks like they didn’t,” Mary said. “And they figured because it was old, it was haunted.”
Bradley popped another spoonful in his mouth. “And what are the odds?” he asked.
She shrugged and touched the edge of the spoon to her chin. “Well, actually, not that great,” she said. “People who lived in old farmhouses in the Midwest were generally hard-working, farming families. They worked a lot. They helped their neighbors. They went to church on Sunday, and they minded their own business. Really, most of them did not have any unfinished business left here on the earth. They just died and went straight to the light.”
“So, he might have bought a dud?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s what Marty believes,” Mary said. “They didn’t have a ghost, and in order to make money they needed a ghost.”
“And now Marty
is a ghost,” Bradley finished.
“Yes!” Mary said, pointing her spoon at him. “Exactly. And I have a feeling his good buddy Sol might have had a little to do with his transition from this life to the next.”
Bradley nodded silently and studied Mary for a moment. “So what you are really telling me is that you are dropping this one and calling the police?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I’m telling you,” she said. “It’s been four months or so since Marty’s death and no one has questioned it. How in the world will I get anyone to believe he was murdered?”
“Especially after the article,” Bradley added.
She sighed. “Yes, especially after the article,” she admitted. “So I have to get Sol to confess or I need to find proof.”
“When do we start?” he asked.
She looked down at her empty spoon for a moment and then looked up at him. “You can’t,” she said. “You’re too well known. Having the chief of police help with a ghost verification will send Sol running.”
“You’re not doing this on your own,” he stated. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I could call Amelia,” Mary suggested. “She could certainly play the part as ghost verifier.”
“Does Amelia have a black belt?” Bradley asked.
“I don’t think so,” she replied, sighing heavily. “But she carries a really heavy purse.”
“Yeah, let me think about that for a moment,” Bradley said. “No.”
Frustrated, Mary dug her spoon into the melting chocolate and scooped up a large amount and stuffed it into her mouth. “Fine,” she garbled around the ice cream. “You find me someone who has a black belt, can pass as a ghost verifier and you would trust going with me.”
Bradley slid his spoon around the container and gathered the last bit of ice cream. “Fine,” he repeated, popping it into his mouth. “I’ll call Ian first thing in the morning.”
Chapter Nineteen
Armed with a new to-do list, Mary drove downtown the next morning ready to get a lot accomplished. After her late night conversation and ice cream with Bradley, she had slept better than she had in months and she was raring to go. She pulled up in front of a small store that was a city block away from her office. The store, Celia’s, was filled with antiques and home decorations that suited the homespun country look Mary preferred. But today she wasn’t looking for something for her house; today she was all about decorating her office.
She pushed the door and looked around, happy to hear that her office was not the only place in the downtown with a bell that rang when someone entered. The store was a cornucopia of autumn decorations, from ceramic pumpkins to spicy potpourri to vintage Halloween cards. Mary knew she had come to the right place.
“Hi, Mary,” Celia, a middle-aged woman with short, brown hair and a welcoming smile, called as she walked from the back room. “I’m just finishing up helping Paul hang a few more items in the back room. What can I help you with?”
“I need to decorate my front window for Chili Friday and I don’t have anything at all,” Mary said. “So, how can you help me?”
Celia’s husband, Paul, came out of the back room carrying his tool box and sporting his white, walrus-like moustache and grinned at her. “After the article in the paper, you would think you’d win for scariest place of business hands down,” he teased.
Mary shook her head. “Don’t remind me,” she said. “I really wish I hadn’t done that article.”
“Well, really, if they wanted an article about scary places in the downtown, all they would have to do is visit Paul’s workshop in the basement,” Celia said. “Now that’s what I would call scary.”
“It’s not scary,” Paul corrected. “It’s artistic and creative.”
Celia rolled her eyes. “It’s a creative mess,” she said. “Now, Mary, what are you looking for?”
“Wait,” Paul inserted, hurrying towards the back of the store. “I’ve got the perfect thing.”
The women waited while Paul went into one of the small, display rooms in the back of the store. A moment later he was carrying out a huge, vintage looking, burnt orange ceramic pumpkin that had one eye closed in a saucy wink. “You just get a black chair, some Halloween material to drape, and put the pumpkin on the chair,” Paul said. “Instant display.”
“You could surround it with some small bales of hay,” Celia added, “and maybe some of these smaller items.” She pointed to a display of tin buckets that were painted in various autumn motifs from scattered candy corn to a black cat with an arched back.
“That would be perfect,” Mary said.
Celia slowly gazed around the room. “And then you could add a scattering of these silk, fall leaves,” she suggested.
“And these electric candles,” Paul suggested, picking up an electric candle that looked like an old, wax candle in a pewter candlestick. “To give the illusion of flickering lights.”
Mary looked around the room and smiled. “Sold,” she said with a grin. “Now what?”
“Oh, we’ll gather everything together and Paul can bring it over later this morning and help you set it up,” Celia suggested. “And he’ll bring the invoice with him, too. And if there’s anything you don’t like once you get it there, he can bring it back.”
“Wow. Perfect,” Mary said, digging in her purse. “I have to run a couple more errands, so why don’t I give you the extra keys to my office. So, if I’m not there, you can just let yourself in.”
“Great,” Paul replied, taking the keys from her. “I’ll probably head over there in about ten minutes and set all this up for you.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you two,” Mary said gratefully. “You solved all my decorating problems. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, just ask.”
“Well, if things get too scary down in Paul’s workshop, I might have to give you a call,” Celia laughed.
“Just call and I’ll come right over,” Mary promised. “But I might have to shop a little before I chase away the ghosts.”
“That’s not a problem at all,” Paul chuckled as he carried the giant jack o’lantern to the counter. “We love people who shop.”
Chapter Twenty
Before Mary could even start helping Marty, she had to follow through on her initial hunch. If Sol had really killed Marty and wanted him to become connected to their house, he probably disposed of the body on the property. So, there would be no record of Marty’s death. She drove over to the county clerk’s office, which had been moved from the old County Courthouse building to the Stewart Centre on Douglas Street.
Mary pulled into the parking lot, parked, and entered through the front lobby. As the tallest building in Freeport with a total of twelve floors, it was equipped with two elevators. Mary was grateful for that convenience as she pressed the button for the fifth floor.
The doors opened and Mary stepped into the new lobby for the Stephenson County government offices. Walking across the lobby, she entered the modern, glass-walled accommodations of the county clerk’s office.
“Mary,” Linda called happily from behind the large counter in her new office space. “It’s great to see you. How are you feeling?”
“Actually, great,” Mary said. “I am finally feeling like a human being again.”
“Well, you look amazing,” Linda replied. “Pregnancy agrees with you. How’s the rest of your family?”
“Pretty excited about Halloween,” Mary said. “We’re going to be helping with Clarissa’s party at school. And that ought to be an interesting experience.”
“Very,” Linda replied. “Especially after the article in the paper. I bet you could tell some really good ghost stories.”
You have no idea, Mary thought. But she only smiled, shrugged and changed the topic. “How’s Bob?” she asked, referring to Linda’s fairly new husband.
“He’s great,” Linda replied with a smile. “And still very romantic. It’s like he’s making up for
all of those years we weren’t together.”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Mary said.
“So, I suppose you didn’t come down here just to chit chat,” Linda said. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for a coroner’s report from the last four months or so,” Mary said. “The name would be Marty Cannon. I’m not sure if it’s Martin or Marty.”
Linda nodded. “That’s okay. It shouldn’t be that hard to find,” she said, turning to her keyboard and entering the information. She scanned the screen and typed in more information. “Are you sure he died in Stephenson County?”
“Yes, it should be in Pearl City,” Mary said. “And if it’s listed, it should be sometime in June.”
Typing some more information into the system, Linda studied the screen again. “No, I don’t see anything like that,” she said. “Maybe we could do a search on John Does, just in case.”
“That would be great,” Mary said. “I would guess he’s about forty years old.”
Linda stopped typing and glanced over to Mary. “Should I even ask you how you know about this?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.
Shaking her head slightly, Mary smiled at Linda. “That’s probably not a great idea,” she confessed.
Nodding slowly, Linda smiled. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Linda turned her attention back to the screen. “Okay, even searching for a John Doe with the age variable from twenty-five to sixty years of age, I don’t have anything for you,” she said.
“Okay,” Mary said easily.
Linda looked up and cocked her head to the side. “Why do I have a feeling that you’re not surprised?” she asked.
Mary shrugged. “Nothing much surprises me anymore,” she hedged.
Linda leaned on the counter towards Mary and lowered her voice. “Please tell me that you have Bradley involved in this investigation,” she said. “A missing dead body can’t be a good thing.”
