The Cathville Haunting (Jack Raven Ghost Mystery Book 2)

by Robin G. Austin

  “Spoken like an educated criminal,” I say.

  Levi laughs. He claims that learning is a lifelong pursuit no matter where you are.

  “They have a photo of her husband, Roland Price, leaving the police station. He’s got his head down so I can’t see what he looks like. Says he declined to comment because he was shook up.”

  “Shook up? Who’s writing this story? It’s always the spouse. Love and murder are like tuna fish and jelly. I can’t tell you how many men I met in prison with a love gone wrong story. Sad, really.”

  I’m barely listening because I’m feeling dizzy and I think I know why. I search the Joubert Realty website for Kylee Price. Her photo was either never on it or more likely, they removed it seeing as she won’t be selling anymore real estate.

  “What’s wrong? I can tell something’s wrong with you,” Levi says.

  “I’m trying to find a picture of Kylee Price. She’s not on the website or the news site.”

  “You think you know her or something?”

  “I’m afraid she might be the woman in the photo with the snake,” I say.

  “You were serious about that? I think that’s what you call a hallucination. You weren’t missing me so much that you took up bad habits while I was away, did you?”

  I don’t know how to explain what I saw either. I’ve seen my share of apparitions, but never in photos where others couldn’t see them or with messages that come and go. I usually see things in my own mind, not projected onto objects. I can tell though that Levi isn’t kidding about not seeing the woman.

  I grab my phone and check the photo again. “She’s not there anymore,” I scream, and jump up. Mojo comes over and pokes me, hard.

  “It was late. You were probably tired is all. Seeing shadows or something. Just forget about it.”

  “I wasn’t seeing anything but a woman with big bosoms, pointing and smiling at the dang snake.” I flip through all the photos again. “I saw her, I know I did. She was there and now she’s gone.”

  “Okay, okay. Calm down. Don’t go crazy on me and stop saying bosom. It doesn’t sound right. Bosom. Bosom.”

  “It’s a word, get over it.” I’m still flipping through the photos. Was it Kylee Price who paid me a visit? To what? Warn me to stay away from Dexter? Ask for my help in finding the person who really did kill her? She was smiling so for awhile anyway, she was having a good time. Maybe meaning she trusted her murderer. Like she’d trust her husband… or her employer.

  ∞

  It’s four o’clock when we walk into the Law Office of Emma J. Weaver. The woman’s tall and buff with a crew cut, and she’s wearing a man’s black suit, no tie. She shoots us both a steely gaze with pinched eyebrows and asks us how she can help. She’s someone I’d fear asking for help even if I was falling off a cliff.

  Levi’s turning on the charm, which causes my mouth to drop open. I shake my head at him and he sits down, still grinning. I tell Weaver that Mr. Joubert asked us to do some work on one of his properties. I have no idea if the man has more than one property, but I sound professional. She isn’t interested one way or the other, apparently thinking we were potential clients.

  “And what? You want money from him?”

  “No, I—

  “You want to talk to him?”

  The woman is the epitome of in-your-face blunt with the patience of a sailor on leave. “Well, I do need to know if he still wants our service—

  “What kind of service?”

  “Excavating,” Levi says, with a wink and that dimpled grin of his. The man is clueless.

  “The last thing Dexter Joubert needs right now are a couple of dirt diggers. I suggest you contact the clerk at the jail to see when you can get in to talk to him.”

  She leans forward showing us her best bulldog face, which wouldn’t win any dog show awards. “Both of you listen up. Whatever you do, don’t say a single word to the man about the murder or anything having to do with the dead woman. Because if you do, I’ll come after you in the worst way you could ever imagine. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

  Levi leans forward with a big, stupid idiot grin on his face. “I got myself a pretty wild imagination, Emma Weaver, but we hear you loud and clear enough.”

  I think I can hear Weaver’s teeth grinding and I swear there’s drool on the corner of her lip, but the stupid idiot isn’t done yet, and he’s gone all Arkansawyer Southern on me.

  “Dexter Joubert is a mighty lucky man. You know, if I’d had me an attorney like you, I’d never have spent a single day in prison. Next time I break the law, I’m going to be sure to do it in Arkansas.”

  Chapter Ten

  §

  “You’re a stupid idiot,” I say, before we’re even back in the jeep.

  “What? I was teasing is all. The woman’s a barracuda. Probably lives in one of these swamps around here. Did you see that suit she was wearing? What kind of woman wears something like that? Must not have any mirrors in her swamp.”

  “The type of woman who doesn’t like men who try to use their stupid idiot charm on her. What were you doing telling her you were in prison? Did you think that would impress her or something?”

  “You think I was flirting with her? I was distracting her attention off you, trying to save you from the woman. You aren’t jealous are you? You are, aren’t you? I knew it.”

  “Just stop talking and drive while I call the jail and make an appointment to see Dexter. You’d think the man would have had someone contact me. If he had, we could have turned around and gone home. That would have saved him some money, but I’m here now and he’s not getting a refund.”

  I search for the number of the Cathville jail and talk to the clerk. He says they’re cleaning the cells today due to bad behavior, whatever that means. I’m told if I come in around ten tomorrow, I can have fifteen minutes with Joubert. The clerk warns me to bring picture identification and adds, as a reminder, that no firearms are allowed inside the facility– concealed or not– don’t matter.

  We go to a restaurant and order take out: barbecued pork, hushpuppies, deep fried pickles and zucchini, and cokes big enough to keep a small village from dying of thirst for a year. If it’s anything, it’s a heart attack victim’s last meal.

  “Look,” Levi yells, still flipping through the menu while we wait. “They serve biscuits with chocolate gravy and bacon bits for breakfast. We’ve got to come here in the morning. And fried bologna sandwiches. I’ve died and gone to redneck heaven. Have you noticed that everywhere we go here it smells like burnt pig?”

  “Calm down, and yes I have. Listen, we’re not on vacation. Stop enjoying yourself so much. At this rate, my expenses are going to outrun my earnings. Why didn’t Dexter let anyone know I was coming to town? I’m giving him his fifteen minutes tomorrow, but if he doesn’t get his act together, I’m heading home. And what’s with the fifteen minute rule in this town anyway?”

  Levi slips the menu back in the holder and winks at the waitress when she tops off his full coffee cup. “Calm down yourself, and stop making this all about you. The man’s in jail for murder. Give him a break. It’s hard to get things done when you’re living in a jail cell.”

  We find a park by a river and I spray the area with bug killer and me and Mojo with essential oil. Then I light a sage incense and get down to eating lunch.

  “I’ve got to find a photo of Kylee,” I say, turning on my laptop. “Maybe she’s on Facebook or Twitter.”

  “Now you don’t want Emma coming after you in that worse way of hers, do you? You don’t, do you? Jack?”

  “Be quiet. Buffed up Emma or not, I need to find out if the woman’s spirit came to me, or if you’ve finally driven me bat crazy, and I really was hallucinating.”

  I don’t find Price anywhere including who I think was her on my phone, which I’m back to checking again. Once we’re done licking the grease off our fingers, Levi plays stick with Mojo.

  I put my hand over the snake– who’s still in
the photo– close my eyes and despite Maybelle’s warning, I foolishly ask it for a message. Before it can get back to me, the incense burns out and the mosquitoes are back. I yell to Levi that it’s time to get going.

  It’s dark when we get back to the Belladonna Hotel. I have mosquito bites even under my clothes. Levi doesn’t have a single one. He claims mosquitoes aren’t out during the day before reading online that they are. Then he gives me the details of how they pump their saliva into the skin while sucking out the blood.

  I grab a beer from the mini-bar, leave the man to go soak in a tub full of rose geranium oil, and say a prayer that tomorrow is the last day I’m ever in Cathville.

  ∞

  The female guard who leads us to a room where Dexter’s waiting makes Emma Weaver look delicate. Forget Texas, don’t mess with Arkansas women.

  I insisted that Levi stay at the hotel, then in the jeep, followed by the waiting room, but right now he’s walking beside me down a long gray hallway that smells like ammonia. Despite my continued protests, he’s still passing notes to get signed for his parole officer. I’m seriously thinking about leaving town without him.

  The guard unlocks the visiting room door, nods her head, and slams it behind us. Dexter’s looking nothing like the happy realtor on his website.

  “Jack?” I nod, and he lets out a loud exhale then points with his handcuffed hands to the chairs across from him. “Thanks for coming. I sure wish it was under better circumstances, but thank the Lord you’re here now.”

  Of all the things I thought he would say, I didn’t expect and sure didn’t want to hear those particular words.

  “Who are you?” he asks Levi. The man’s a fool to ask and five minutes into Levi’s inmate bonding spiel about how to survive prison life, especially the potato salad, I’m ready to boot him out the door.

  “Dexter, where do we go from here?” I ask.

  “Well, first off, let me assure you that I’m as innocent as a new born baby, and—

  “Wait,” I say. “Your attorney made it perfectly clear that we aren’t to discuss your case at all. We agreed to that and I want to keep my word. Let’s stick to the matter of the mist that’s doing the haunting out on your property.” Dexter starts to interrupt and I raise my hand.

  “It sounds like you want me to do the job you hired me for so just give me directions to the property, and I’ll keep you posted on my progress. I assume you had a chance to move the motorhome out there already.”

  “Now just wait a minute here. First off, I’m paying both you and my attorney so nobody’s setting any ground rules about what I can and can’t say. I know Emma’s a heifer on steroids, but I’m in charge of this here river raft and we’re going to float it in the direction I decide.

  “Second, it’s absolutely not possible to talk about what I hired you to do without talking about Kylee’s murder, God rest her soul. That woman was my friend and one of my best real estate agents. I don’t know why she went out to the supermall property—

  “Hold on. So it did happen on the supermall property. That’s where the woman was murdered. What did she look—

  “Jack, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Don’t you see what’s happening here? This thing is bigger than the both of us now. First my wife’s cousin’s fifth husband then an entire crew of redneck construction workers all got scared out of their shorts and ran off.”

  Dexter looks around before he leans across the table. I can see beads of sweat on the man’s forehead and smell pork on his breath. Thankfully, he goes on talking in a whisper.

  “That thing’s getting madder and meaner by the minute.” He leans back then jerks up. “Look at me. I’m in handcuffs. Construction is at a standstill and all this press on the murder… well, it’s going to scare off some customers. Not many, but I figure a few for awhile anyway.”

  Dexter drifts off for a second, but bounces back with renewed enthusiasm.

  “Your life’s at risk, but you said you can handle it so I’m counting on you. God willing, I pray you’re telling the truth because you’re the only hope I’ve got.”

  “You think the fog killed Kylee?” Levi asks.

  “No, I don’t think the blankety-blank fog killed her. She was shot in the back like a dog. Fog will make you drive off a mountainside, but it sure as heck can’t put a bullet in you. It was that dang parallel normal echo mystic that killed the woman– and left my calling card in her hand.”

  Dexter sits back and rubs his chin. “The thing’s looking to get even with me for trying to build the world’s biggest and best supermall west of the Mississippi River. That place is going to have the whole state of Arkansas rushing to get in its doors. Wouldn’t be surprised if folks from Louisiana and Oklahoma make the trip to see it too.” Dexter drifts off for a second, apparently lost in his out-of-state profits, before getting a surge of energy again.

  “Look at my hair. Do you see a clump missing? Don’t you think you’d see one if it was ripped out of my dang head? You bet your britches you would.”

  “I don’t see how a mist– echo mystic could shoot someone,” I say.

  “Listen, Jack. That thing’s evil, pure and simple. I saw it myself. It was looking for blood and it found it. Nothing will bring Kylee back, but I plan on saving my own behind.”

  “But your lawyer—

  “Listen up. I’ll deal with my lawyer, so don’t worry none about Emma. She’s a tough old bat, but she works for me and that’s a fact. I don’t take orders from anyone who’s on my payroll.”

  Dexter squirms in his chair and nods his head like he’s cooking up some made for TV jailbreak. “Now, let’s talk about what I’m going to do for you, so you can do for me. I’m prepared to triple your fee and add on expenses to boot.”

  The man leans in and his eyes get beady. Levi leans forward like he’s in on the deal. Dexter nods his covert understanding at him then focuses those beady eyes on me.

  “That is if, and only if, you get rid of that thing that’s scaring off grown men, and prove me innocent of all charges at the same dang time.”

  Chapter Eleven

  §

  Levi’s counting, and probably mentally spending, my windfall as we walk out of the police station. At the end, Dexter left me too speechless to ask anything intelligent or stupid. As we said goodbye, I mumbled something about thinking over his offer.

  Despite the absurdity of a spirit pulling the trigger of a gun, my psychic senses tell me the man is innocent when it comes to killing Kylee. They’re also telling me he isn’t all that innocent of everything having to do with the woman.

  “So where do we start?” Levi asks. “I say we get a copy of Weaver’s file and see what she’s got so far. That’ll save us time.”

  “Us? There is no us where my business is concerned. I work with the spirit world not the mess the living make of their lives.”

  “Exactly. You work the ghost end of this, and I’ll work Dexter’s end. Together, we’ll get rid of that fog in the woods and find out who murdered the real estate agent. This is something I can really sink my teeth into. Three times your fee plus expenses. What’s your fee on this job?”

  “None of your business. Like I said, I’ll think about it. For now, there’s no way we’re asking Emma Weaver for a copy of her file. Dexter’s a tough talker. Let’s see how far he gets with Weaver, then I’ll think about it. The man paid me to do one job and I plan on doing it. This other offer, I’m not so sure about.”

  “You don’t need to do anything on it. Can’t you see? You’ve got me.”

  “I see that and it’s scary enough.”

  “Listen, Jack. I messed things up with the money laundering and going to prison and all. Employers won’t even give me an interview. My money’s running out and my prospects are zero. The way things are going, I’ll be washing dishes at Arthur’s diner in another month.”

  “If you’re lucky. I’m not so sure even he’ll hire you.”

  “Here’s what I’m thinking.
We work this together as a team. You do your spook thing; I’ll find Kylee’s murderer. You pay me one-third of your fee– a bargain mind you– and after this job, I’ll get my private investigator’s license and start my own business. You know I’d do it for you if the shoe was on the other foot.”

  I roll my eyes. He’s actually going to make a career decision after talking to someone he’s known for fifteen minutes. A man who’s in jail for murder and thinks the murderer is a ghost with a gun. Put together, these two men make less sense than an empty change jar. If it wasn’t for the snake, the woman, and the message, I wouldn’t even be considering the matter.

  “I said I’ll think about it. First though, I’m getting more of those deep fried pickles and some stronger bug spray. After that, I’m going out to the property and have a look around.”

  Another thing I’m going to do, which is driving me to distraction, is to figure out if the woman I saw– and only I saw– in the photo was Kylee Price. After Dexter cut me off when I started to ask him what she looked like, I got confused by his theory of the murder and speechless after his offer. Seeing as I got the message about remains found in the woods, I’m guessing it was her, but who knows the way things are going.

  I take with a grain of salt what the living do. But when a spirit comes to me for help, I pay attention and do my best to do what they can’t: finish what was left undone. If you think living’s hard, try dying with something hanging over your head, gnawing at your bones, or breaking your heart.

  We load up on more deep fried stuff and head out to the property. I know it’s everywhere, but I don’t smell the pork nearly as much as I did this morning. I’m afraid it’s all the bug spray I’ve got up my nose.

  Dexter said he didn’t have a chance to move his motorhome onto the property before they arrested him. He assured me that as soon as I contact his supermall partners, the Noger brothers, they would get it out there quick as pigs on ice– however quick that means.