Hearts & Haunts, Confessions of a Closet Medium, Book 3

by Nyx Halliwell

  “I appreciate the offer.” I raise my cup in salute. A nightcap isn’t the worst idea. “I may take you up on that.”

  There’s an hour left before the tasting event, and I’m hungry. Rosie won’t get much out of the food samples, and she’s been on her feet all day. I hand her her coat and tell her to go home and see her husband and son.

  “You sure?”

  “Of course. I’ll get the scoop on the out-of-town caterers and bakeries and do some networking so we can build relationships with them.”

  I walk her to the rear of the building and out to the parking lot, leaving Penn and Jenn to close up the booth. The air warmed after the storm, but as the sun sets, I feel the temperature dropping. As she drives off, I sip my coffee and breathe in the cool, February air. It feels nice to take a break from the constant ruckus of the fair, and smell something other than the past. No dust, and the simple act of being in such a beautiful spot relaxes the tension in my shoulders.

  Taking a stroll past the atrium, I notice a small cemetery in the distance. The stones barely peek out from all the overgrowth. They seem to be centered around an old oak tree, the Spanish moss hanging from the giant branches still weighed down from last night’s rain.

  Tabby rubs against my leg, startling me, and I nearly spill my drink. I scold her and she saunters off toward the tree. I see Persephone sitting on a low-hanging branch, swinging her legs and beckoning me. Sherlock leans on the massive trunk, saying something I can’t hear but that makes her smile.

  With a sigh, I follow the cat to see who’s buried in the sad, little graveyard.

  7

  The markers are nearly hidden under years of dirt, weeds, and melancholy.

  I scrape mud from last night’s storm from one of the concrete forms, pitted and moss-stained. Emanuele Nottingham, it reads. Tallulah's father. A smaller stone next to it is a little fresher—her mother.

  Debris tangles around my ankles as I move to the most modern looking, another plain and simple design. Tallulah Nottingham is etched in with a single lily flower, the slender neck bent so it appears as if it’s tired.

  “Why did you call me over?” I ask Persephone.

  Exasperation laces her tone. “I have to feed you everything on a silver platter.”

  Sherlock chastises her before I can reply. “Seph, be kind.”

  She rolls her eyes and slides off the branch. “She has work to do and she’s off playing happily-ever-after.”

  “She is standing right here, and as you say, I do have work to do.” I rub my arms through my light clothing. “What is it you want?”

  I don’t see or sense any spirits lingering here, but the place would be perfect for a ghost story or a reality show featuring paranormal investigators.

  Sherlock hovers and Persephone grumbles. “Have a peek around.”

  Picking my way in the direction Sherlock pointedly looks, I note a side of the once-white wooden fence is sagging. The paint has faded under the Georgia sun and years of weather. Nearby magnolia bushes haven’t been trimmed in some time.

  A dingy stone under a younger oak, and nearly hidden by the magnolias, catches my eye. The rectangular marker barely sticks up above the ground, the earth around it seeming to suck it in. Using my hand, I pull a cluster of overgrown weeds from it and trace a finger along the single word inscribed there: Monroe.

  There are no birth or death dates. I rise when I hear footsteps behind me, noticing Persephone and Sherlock have disappeared.

  I turn to find Christine marching toward me, fire in her eyes. “Darinda told me what you said. I can’t believe you think I killed Sal.”

  Thanks a lot, I mentally say to my former boss. “It wasn’t my intent to accuse anyone; I was simply asking a few questions about your relationship with him. He was pretty hard on you, wasn’t he?”

  She’s wearing high heels and doesn’t want to stomp through the mud and weeds, so she stops a few yards away at a section of the fencing that’s still intact. “So what? I’ve never had a job yet where a superior treats you like an equal. He may have given me a lot of grief, but I would never kill anyone.”

  She crosses her arms, and I notice how thin they are. I wonder if she would even have the strength to shove a heel into a man’s throat. I don’t know exactly how much pressure that’d take, but she looks as though lifting weights is not a regular habit, and seems to lack that killer instinct I would expect. Anger, like the kind I see in her face right now, however, might do the task.

  “Whoever killed him got up close and personal.” I overheard the medical examiner mention to Jones last night that there were no defensive wounds she could see on the first examination. “Can you think of anyone else who would want to do Sal harm?”

  The young woman’s eyes narrow. I’m probably only a few years older than she is, but I feel as though there’s a vast difference in maturity. She taps a foot. “Nobody cared for that man. You of all people know that.”

  “Darinda claims he didn’t have enemies. Do you agree?”

  She rolls her eyes and uncrosses her arms in a dramatic wave. “You’re starting to sound like that detective. I didn’t know Sal personally, but no one at the bridal salon liked him. We had to tolerate him because he was Darinda’s pet. She needed someone, I guess, to fill that spot you left.”

  I hear someone call my name from the parking lot, and see Gloria flagging me down. It’s nearly time for the tasting event. I wave back.

  “I saw you take that dress to the restroom. Why? Did it have blood on it?” Christine acts like she’s caught me with my hand in the cookie jar.

  “Blood?”

  “Don’t worry.” She pivots to return to the hotel. “I already texted the detective to let him know I saw what you were doing. I bet they can do some forensic thing to see if it’s Sal’s blood.”

  Sighing, I take one last glance at the Monroe marker and go to meet Gloria.

  “A few vendors are keeping their booths open, ma cherie. It’s a good marketing strategy. Do you want me to man yours while you network? Penn and Jenn can help.”

  “You need to go home and get some rest. Tomorrow’s Saturday, they should have the road cleared, and it’s the biggest day yet. I need you to be ready to roll.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m fine.”

  Mama’s exiting the back to leave. We catch up, and she asks if I’m going home.

  I have a mystery to solve and a murderer to find. “I’m going to stay overnight again. I want to schmooze with the caterers and bakeries, and I’m inspired to work on a new design.” I motion at the hotel, looking it over. “This place is full of nostalgia, and it gives me a lot of ideas for my flapper line.”

  I kiss Mama goodbye. As I return inside with Gloria, Tabby once again makes her presence known.

  My friend is a sucker for her neediness and Gloria rubs her ears. “Since you’re not keeping your stand active, I’m going to attend the taste testing with Penn and Jenn. I want to get some of that wine from the Cross vineyard.” She winks. “I’ve heard it’s pretty good.”

  Logan’s family owns it, and they do make a good product. “Absolutely. You go ahead.”

  As she walks to the atrium with the sisters, Victoria glides by the open doors. She’s talking a million miles a minute to someone walking with her.

  Christine.

  Between the ghosts and the killer, I wonder how smart it is for me to spend another night in this hotel.

  8

  I do a cursory swing through the vendors, grabbing a few samples here and there to fill my empty stomach. I avoid the wine Gloria is enjoying since I have some legwork to do and I need a clear head.

  I can’t dodge Logan’s mother, however, and chat with her a moment or two at their table. There are multiple wines available for tasting and cases behind her with bottles to purchase.

  “I heard there was a situation with you and another man last night,” Helen says, handing a sample to Gloria of their famous peach wine.

  Her hair is pro
perly swept up and diamonds hang from her lobes. Her dress is gold, like the tablecloth, and she’s wearing a berry-colored scarf that perfectly matches the red merlot available. She gives me a look that suggests she’s annoyed I may once again be tainting her son’s reputation.

  “Oh, it wasn’t her fault.” Gloria takes a sip and licks her lips. “She didn’t kill him.”

  A bride and her fiancé give a shocked gasp and move away.

  Helen harrumphs and pours a few more samples, lowering her voice. “Why is it that trouble follows you everywhere, Ava?”

  I honestly have no answer to that.

  Gloria makes a dismissive noise. “What are you talking about? Ava is a good girl!”

  “Thank you, Gloria.” I glance around the atrium, noticing more tasters headed our direction. Victoria is also making rounds. No use arguing with Helen, and I have more pressing matters to attend to. A part of me wants to avoid Victoria as well. “Good luck with the sales,” I say and beeline to a booth I actually want to visit.

  Queenie has put Brax to work, the mother and son duo moving in perfect harmony as they handle potential clients for her catering service. When I get there, Brax comes around to envelope me in a bear hug, and nearly squeezes the small amount of food and drink I’ve enjoyed back out.

  He beams from ear to ear as he sets me on my feet. He’s looking sharp in a turquoise-colored dress shirt and fancy tie. “This is fabulous, isn’t it? I can’t believe how many are here!”

  He towers over me and his mother, but she pokes his side and motions for him to hand out more food to the those crowding in. She has a generous assortment of down-home, Southern items on her list, along with melt-in-your-mouth desserts and candy.

  Brax is every bit as much an entrepreneur as his mother, and he’s happy to dispense cards advertising his and his partner’s various businesses: The Thorny Toad, their roadside bar and grill, his coffee bar downtown, as well as their lovely bed & breakfast next to The Wedding Chapel. Brax shoves several of Queenie’s shrimp boil skewers at me, along with mini-mushroom and goat cheese pot pies.

  “Honey, you look a fright.” He drags me behind the table and fiddles with my hair. “Those bags under your eyes could carry ten pound weights in them.”

  He’s honest, if nothing else, which is one of the reasons I love him like a brother. “It’s been a rough twenty-four hours.”

  He sneaks some sliced cucumbers from a cooler and lays them on my plate. “Go lie down and put these on your eyes for twenty minutes, y’hear?”

  Upstairs in the suite, I finish my food, which is so good I contemplate returning for more. I eat the cucumber rather than waste the slices on my eye bags. I suspect those aren’t going away anytime soon.

  I remove the photo from the nightstand and stare at it. When I hear the cooing of a child again, I nearly drop the frame. There’s no ghost to be seen, but like so many things here, this random spirit is beginning to wear on my nerves.

  Opening my laptop, I plan to answer some email, but end up doing a search for the name Monroe in combination with the hotel. I get zip back.

  I try several others, but without more information, I discover nothing. I snap a picture with my phone and do a reverse image search. Again, zero.

  Downstairs, I discover Logan has arrived. He catches me as I exit the elevator, and kisses my cheek. “How’s it going?”

  “Busy. Are you here to help your mom?”

  “I offered but she told me I had my work cut out for me corralling you and keeping you out of trouble. I take it you spoke to her?”

  I head for the front desk. “She seems to have jumped to the conclusion I’m the cause of last night’s fiasco.”

  He chuckles. “You know Thornhollow. Lot of rumors flying. Gossip, too. Your name was mentioned.”

  “Of course it was.” Kalina is manning the desk and I show her the photo. “Could this guy be related to the Nottingham family?”

  She gives me a glance suggesting she has better things to do. “How would I know?”

  “This was in Tallulah’s nightstand. Have you seen pictures of him anywhere else here?”

  She studies it a moment, pursing her lips to the left. “There could be family photo albums in the study.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Down the hall from the suites. Next to the elevator, but on the other side. It’s full of old books, magazines, and newspapers. I swear that woman never got rid of anything.”

  “Tallulah?”

  She nods.

  “Why didn’t you?” Logan asks.

  She glances away and gives an involuntary shudder. “I started to once, but it was so overwhelming, and… Well, it’s spooky in there.”

  I have the feeling by that she means haunted. “Then is it possible the hotel still has the logs from after the war when this was used as a sort of hospital?”

  Kalina shrugs. “No idea, but probably. In that study alone there are all kinds of old records.”

  “Thank you.”

  Logan follows me to the elevator. “What’s going on? Did I miss something important?”

  “Just a usual day in the life of Ava Fantome.” I smile at him and peck his cheek as we wait for the doors to slide open. “Full of ghosts and murderers.”

  He smiles, motioning for me to go first. “Never a dull moment with you, that’s for sure.”

  The doors are about to shut when the ghost attached to Gloria appears, and I nearly drop the framed picture again. “You must hurry. She’s ill.”

  I grab the door to keep it from shutting. “Who? Gloria?”

  “What…?” Logan follows my gaze. “Wait… A ghost?”

  “Hurry!” The spirit fades away.

  “Come with me,” I say to Logan, jetting back into the lobby. “I think Gloria’s in trouble.”

  We run to the atrium, pushing past people in the lobby, hallway, and outside the courtyard. They’re talking and laughing, enjoying the samples, and the noise is loud. When we enter the glass enclosure, I hear someone yelling for help.

  Gloria’s prone on the floor near the mermaid water fountain, struggling and grabbing at her neck. I see Tallulah on top of her, ghostly hands wrapped around her throat.

  How is she doing that?

  Victoria is on her knees next to her, trying to help. “She’s choking!”

  I shove the photo into Logan’s hands and grab the first metal thing I find—a garden trowel.

  Gloria’s male ghost is also here and he reaches for Tallulah. As he shoves at her, I slice the trowel through the air, right at Tallulah’s heart. She screeches, raising the hair on my arms, and the metal creates a sparking effect as it cuts through her spectral form.

  All at once, she freezes, her gaze coming up to meet mine. I see surprise in her eyes, along with anger, right before her body disintegrates.

  Metal often works on spirits, although it won’t keep her away for long.

  Gloria coughs and chokes as Logan and I help her sit up.

  Her ghost bends down next to her and Victoria displays an obvious shiver and backs away. “Is she all right?”

  Helen, Brax, and a few others form a crowd around us. “She’ll be okay now,” I say. “We’ll take it from here.”

  Tears run down Gloria’s cheeks and Logan hands her a napkin from a nearby booth. Victoria chases off the gawkers, as we get Gloria to a chair. Brax disappears then arrives with a bottled water.

  “Thank you,” I tell him.

  Between sips, Gloria swears she wasn’t choking on a sample. “I don’t know what…happened.” Her voice is rough and raw. “One minute I was enjoying salmon on toast…the next this heavy weight knocked me to the floor. I…I…couldn’t breathe.”

  Baldwin runs in and looks her over. “Does she need an ambulance?”

  “No, no.” Taking another drink, she shakes her head adamantly. “I’m fine. Really.”

  “A weight?” Logan questions.

  Gloria is too pale. “Felt like a linebacker hit me.”

/>   He pats her shoulder and gives me a glance that asks ghost? I nod.

  “You really should see Doc,” I tell her. “Let him check you out. For my peace of mind, if nothing else. Remember, I need you in top form tomorrow.”

  She doesn’t argue this time, and I’m relieved. Most everyone has returned to the wining and dining and Logan and I help Gloria to her feet since she’s still wobbly.

  “You definitely should,” Brax says.

  “I’ll drive her to the clinic.” Logan motions for Brax to take her arm and he hands the framed photo back to me. “I’ll bring the car to the rear door.”

  Slowly, Brax and I assist her. Baldwin follows, wringing his hands. Logan pulls up in his Porsche and we guide Gloria into it.

  “I’ll call you as soon as I make sure she’s okay,” he tells me and then they’re gone.

  Victoria appears from a side hallway and walks with us as we make our way once more to the lobby. “Your friend is all right?”

  “You don’t think she’ll say anything about this, do you?” Baldwin asks.

  “I think so,” I tell Victoria, but I’m confused by Baldwin’s question and give him a questioning glance. “Say anything…?”

  Victoria nods. “We don’t need more bad publicity, and we especially don’t need her telling people she choked on Lamar’s prized hors d’oeuvres.”

  I don’t know or care who Lamar is, and since I know Gloria didn’t choke on the food, I just roll my eyes. “Gloria isn’t one to stir up drama.”

  “We’ll make it up to her.” Baldwin assures me. “I’ll send her a gift card or something.”

  “There are at least a dozen people who witnessed the incident,” Brax reminds them. “I’m sure it’s already on social media.”

  Victoria sighs loudly. “It wasn’t the event’s fault.”

  Her concern about that over a person’s life irritates me, but I just want her and Baldwin to skedaddle. “No one is going to blame you. Look, a bite went down the wrong way, that’s all, and Gloria won’t cause any trouble.”