“I’ll be fine,” I said to Greg. “You know Rachel won’t let anything happen to me.” Greg gave me a doubtful look. Rachel usually seemed to be the reason why I got into trouble.
“All right,” said Detective Shorts, “Fine. Go set this up. Be in the garden house in an hour. And I hope to God this works.”
The detective left to round up his officers.
Greg ran to me enveloping me in a giant hug. “I still don’t like this idea,” he said.
“I’ll be fine,” I whispered to him.
“Hey,” said Rachel, “she’ll be with me. I got Mel’s back. Don’t you worry about that.” Rachel disappeared.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” muttered Greg.
Chapter 9
I paced the floor in the garden house impatiently as I waited for Alice to find Miles and give him the story we had worked out. I hoped he would buy it. Though a part of me was uncertain about that. Miles wasn’t stupid.
The storm continued to rage outside with a horrendous fury. I watched as trees whipped their branches wildly as though they practiced some sort of ceremonial dance. Piles of leaves blew across the ground—some even swirled like mini cyclones. Could the night get any more clichéd? A thunder storm, nighttime, and a ghost all on Halloween—who’d have thunk it?
Rain beat against the glass of the window. I felt a bit sorry for those waiting outside. I glanced around the garden house. A spade and hook lay on the table amidst dried clumps of dirt. Plants hung from the ceiling while a few were lined nicely in planters.
The garden house was more of a greenhouse, but separate from the greenhouse my friends and I had trailed Miles to earlier. Maybe Mrs. Hamilton had two; she had the space. But this place was fancier. An indoor brook ran through the building with a few benches lining it. I’m sure it must have been a beautiful place to sit when you weren’t waiting for a murderer to show up so you could catch him.
Another crack of thunder sounded. Where was he? Did he not believe Alice? I checked my phone to make certain I had the recording function pulled up and that my battery hadn’t died. That would have been perfect; dead battery when I’m trying to get a confession.
More flashes of light. I watched as streaks of lightning illuminated the cloudy sky with nature’s wrath. With each passing second I became more nervous; fidgeting and tapping my foot uncontrollably. Did my great plan prove to be a dud? Did Miles know what I planned?
A soft click sounded. I turned my head in its direction. Everything seemed normal. Cautiously, I walked over to the door where the noise had come from. Sure enough, it was unlocked, but there was no sign of someone having entered. I pressed against it making certain it was completely shut.
A bit uneasy, I meandered over to where the hook was and picked it up. Something didn’t feel right. I wasn’t alone.
“Terrible storm, isn’t it?” said a male voice.
I recognized that deep tone. It was Miles. Carefully, I hid the hook behind my back—thankful that it was dark inside—and I pressed the record button on my phone. A faint shadow approached from the side of the room. Even in the darkness, I saw his malicious grin.
“Terrible,” I said.
“Connie says that you have something for me,” said Miles, drawing closer.
“Maybe.” I backed away.
Miles moved over to the door and locked it; the distinct click sounded like a death march. This wasn’t going completely according to plan.
“Where is Connie?” I asked.
“Not with us.”
Well, that much was evident. “Where?” I demanded.
“Why do you care?” replied Miles moving even closer.
“I want to know.”
Miles picked up a clump of dirt and studied it a moment. “You are nosy, aren’t you? Suffice it to say that she is currently floating downriver.”
He killed her! Panic rose in me as my heart beat so hard against my chest I thought it would burst through. With what little restraint I had, I calmed my pulse. I still needed the confession for Harold Smythe’s murder.
“Where is it?” asked Miles.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I played for time.
“Don’t play games with me,” snarled Miles, “Connie said you had the dart. I want it.”
“How do you know I didn’t give it to the cops?” I asked, backing away some more.
“Did you?” Miles pulled out some leather gloves from his pocket and put them on.
“It’s hidden,” I told him.
“And the money?”
“Hidden as well.”
A disbelieving look crossed Miles’ face.
“You didn’t think I’d be stupid enough to bring them both here, did you?”
“So, you know the value of insurance,” said Miles.
Sort of. I glanced out the window, but there wasn’t any sign of Detective Shorts, Greg, Jackie, or even Rachel. I felt utterly alone.
“Take me to it,” said Miles, “and I might let you live.”
“That will hardly persuade me to do that,” I replied.
“Then maybe I should kill you now.” He snapped the wristband of one of his gloves.
“Do that and you won’t get one cent of that money.”
“It’s looking as though I’ll never see it anyway.”
“I want some assurance first,” I said, thinking fast.
“Such as.”
“You won’t kill me, now or ever.”
“How do I know you won’t talk to the cops?” said Miles.
“If I was going to do that, I would have already and you’d be in handcuffs. I don’t care about Connie or the money. But considering we had already met once tonight, I want to make sure you won’t bother me again.”
“Very well.
“Second: I want to know why you killed Harold Smythe.”
“Why?” Miles’s voice took a sharp turn. He suspected something.
“Curiosity really,” I said, “Killing him was rather stupid. It’s what brought the cops. So why would a smart man like you make such a rookie mistake?”
He seemed to buy that. “He got in the way.”
“He was at the party the whole time,” I said.
“That you know of,” said Miles. “Harold Smythe was a nosy busybody—much like you—and he just had to stumble upon me.”
“Why would that matter? You don’t know him.”
“Oh, don’t I?” said Miles.
Blood drained from my face. Miles and Harold Smythe knew each other? I don’t think even Alice knew that.
“Who do you think actually killed the person that Alice was accused of involuntary manslaughter over? Me. Harold thought he had gotten rid of me when he cut the brake line of my car, but as you can see, I’m here.
“Why do you think I was so willing to help Alice? Yes, I know who she really is. Like her, I disappeared. So you see? I couldn’t let Harold Smythe ruin that. It’s not like the man didn’t have it coming.”
I really did not like the way he kept inching closer to me. I knew I only had moments before Miles tired of this game and tried to eliminate me. Where was everyone? I put my hand on the glass; it was the signal.
“Now, where is the money and this evidence?”
I looked around the room gauging my options. Nothing looked promising. “Over there,” I said pointing at an overturned planter.
His look told me he didn’t quite believe me. He moved over there anyway, not willing to take the chance that I had actually told the truth. I gripped the hook tighter.
“It appears you were telling the truth,” he said as he pulled out a bag. Miles ripped it open revealing a pile of cash.
Where did that come from? I had just been playing for time.
“Now,” Miles stood up holding the bag of money, “where’s the rest of it?”
“The what?” I hadn’t been listening—too busy trying to figure a way out.
“The evidence.”
“Here,” I said, walking towar
ds him holding my phone out to him.
Miles moved to grab it. Before he touched it, I brought up the hook swinging it until it caught him in the shoulder. He screamed in pain and anger.
“You bitch!”
I dashed behind a table out of his reach. Miles dropped the money and ripped the hook out of his shoulder. It clattered as it hit the stone floor.
Where the hell was everybody?
Miles lunged across the table. Quickly, I darted out of the way running to the other end of the garden house, my bare feet finding broken bits of pottery. Pulling a shard out of my foot, I ignored the pain as I swerved out of the way just before Miles could grab me.
“You’re dead!” he yelled, his eyes blazing.
I glanced out the window. Detective Shorts and a bunch of officers raced to the garden house. I knew they wouldn’t make it in time. They were too far away.
Miles lunged for me again. I tried to outflank him, but his strong hand grabbed a part of my costume knocking me off balance. I rolled over clinging to my cell phone while kicking at him.
A tremendous crack of thunder followed by several flashes of lightning filled the area. The door burst open banging against the wall. Miles stopped, releasing his hold on me. Curious, I looked at the door.
Silhouetted in the doorway was a floating hat and cape with a Jack O’ lantern for a head. Confused, I just stared at it stupidly. It reminded me of the story of Ichabod Crane and the headless horseman.
“What the hell?” breathed Miles.
“Who dares enter my domain?” said a baritone voice; though it also sounded somewhat familiar.
Miles chucked a pot at it.
The floating Jack O’ lantern, cape, and hat rushed into the room heading straight for Miles. He jerked away from me. Scrambling to my feet, I made certain my phone still worked before running to a far corner. Unsure of what was happening, I just watched as the “headless horseman” chased Miles around the room.
“You will pay Miles Dawson!”
Dawson? How did it know his full name?
Miles stumbled over a planter landing face first in another one. Desperate, he untangled himself from the plants only to become caught in the hanging planters. “Get away from me!”
The thing didn’t listen. I watched as the “horseman” seized Miles and flung him across the room. “Hurt my friend will you!”
Now I recognized that voice: Rachel.
She grabbed Miles wrenching his arms behind his back. “I’ll teach you to murder people and steal from desperate women!”
“I didn’t—”
“Liar!” Rachel shoved his head into an open bag of fertilizer.
“Rachel!” I yelled at her as Miles continued to cough and struggle for breath.
“Oh, he ain’t worth it.” Rachel dropped Miles on the ground. She pulled off the cape and hat putting them on him. Then, Rachel placed the Jack O’ lantern in Miles’s hands.
Just then Detective Shorts arrived with the others. He surveyed the area spotting Miles quickly. “Book him!”
An officer handcuffed Miles and led him out of the garden house muttering about ghosts.
“It’s him—it’s the headless horseman!” yelled Miles. I had a feeling he was going to need a lot of therapy thanks to Rachel.
“Have fun in the psych ward!” Rachel shouted after him.
People turned in her direction when she said that, but they didn’t see her.
“Rachel,” I whispered to her, “what about Alice?”
“She’s fine,” replied Rachel. “She’s safe in the house.”
“Miss Summers,” said Detective Shorts, “I hope you got what you wanted.”
“Here,” I handed him my phone, “He confessed the whole thing.”
Detective Shorts took it and played back the recording. Miles’ voice came through clearly. Good thing I hadn’t dropped my phone. “I’ll get this back to you as soon as I can. Oh, and how did you find the money?”
“I didn’t,” I replied.
“I found it!” Rachel danced around on her toes. “I found it! I found it! Clever—huh?—putting it there.” She continued to dance and sing to herself while receiving strange looks from the officers who heard her, but couldn’t see her.
“Well, thank you,” said Detective Shorts.
“Mel!” Jackie flung herself onto me giving me a giant hug. “I’m so sorry we’re late, but—well—oh, at least you’re okay.”
A cough sounded behind her.
“Oh, sorry,” said Jackie moving out of the way for Greg.
Greg took my hand pulling me closer. “You know, one of these days, you’re going to have to allow me to assist you in catching the murderer.”
Smiling, I kissed him. “I think it was Rachel who really caught him.” I glanced at Rachel who continued to sing and dance to herself oblivious to everything.
“Well, I think we ought to go home,” said Greg.
“Home? After all of the fun we’re having?”
“This party is a little too lively for my taste,” said Greg. He leaned in to kiss me when—
“Hey, guys, I know a great place where we can go,” Rachel had appeared beside us, “Music, drinks, food—we’ll make a night of it!”
I just stared at her.
“Am I interrupting something?” she asked.
“Yes,” replied Greg; who was used to hearing Rachel even if he couldn’t always see her.
“Oh, well, then Jackie and I will go. Party poopers.”
“Have fun, Rachel,” I said after her. “Let’s go home,” I said to Greg.
“Agreed.”
Chapter 10
I didn’t wake up until noon the next day; my body ached and was sore all over. Bandages covered my feet from where the broken bits of pottery had cut them. Boy was I exhausted.
Skipping a shower, I just put on some sweats. I had no desire to go anywhere and no classes either. Rachel, Jackie, and Greg already waited for me by the time I walked into the living room.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” said Greg.
“Why didn’t you guys wake me up?” I asked.
“We thought we’d let you sleep,” replied Jackie.
“Yeah, they wouldn’t let me get you out of bed,” Rachel pouted in the corner with her arms crossed.
I chuckled inwardly. She hated being told what to do. Mostly, she just detested not being allowed to be a free spirit—pun not intended.
A knock sounded at the door. I opened it. Mrs. Hamilton, her sister Alice, and a little boy stood there. “Come in,” I said, opening the door wider.
“We’re sorry to barge in on you like this,” said Mrs. Hamilton, “but Alice told me everything you did for her. I wanted to thank you personally.”
“Won’t you sit down?” I said.
They each took a seat in the living room. Rachel remained hidden in the corner for which I was thankful. I didn’t feel like trying to explain why a ghost was in my apartment.
“It has been a long time since my sister and I have seen each other,” said Mrs. Hamilton. “I never knew everything that Harold had done. Much of it I am still trying to wrap my head around. But I have you to thank for finding his killer and keeping Alice out of jail.”
“I didn’t—”
“But you did,” said Alice.
“Detective Shorts told us how you caught the real murderer and proved Alice’s innocence,” said Mrs. Hamilton.
Rachel patted me on the back in congratulations causing me to jerk a bit. I tried to pass it off as nothing when Mrs. Hamilton gave me a questioning eye. “It really was nothing,” I said.
“It was much more than that,” said Mrs. Hamilton. “Now Alice and I can catch up. I just wanted to let you know that if there is anything you, or your friends, ever need don’t hesitate to let me know.”
“Can I move into her house?” said Rachel.
I glared at her.
“Just asking.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hamilton,” I said. “And who’s this?�
��
“My son,” said Alice.
I shook the boy’s hand.
“We’re on our way to the airport,” said Mrs. Hamilton. “I know a place in Florida that provides the procedure he needs.”
“Mrs. Hamilton, forgive me for being nosy, but do you have cancer?” I asked.
If she was insulted, she never showed it. “I was diagnosed two years ago. I don’t like to let people know.”
“We won’t tell anyone,” said Jackie.
“Well, we better get going,” said Mrs. Hamilton. “Thanks again for all of your help.”
“Anytime,” I saw them to the door. I felt bad for her, but there was little any of us could do. I wondered how I was going to spend my day when Rachel beat me to it.
“So, who’s up for another party?”
Look for the next book in the Mellow Summers Series
Roses Are Red…He’s Dead?
Afterward
I sincerely hope that you enjoyed sharing one of Mellow’s adventures. If you did, please tells a friend so that they can enjoy it as well.
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Thank you for reading this book and for any feedback that you may leave. Be sure and check out my other works as well in the More By Janet McNulty section.
About the Author
Janet McNulty currently lives in West Virginia where she continues to work on the Mellow Summers Series. She began the series two years ago as a fluke, but liked writing it so much, that she decided to stick with it.
Besides writing paranormal mysteries, Ms. McNulty has also accomplished success in other genres. She has a Fantasy Saga published under the name of Nova Rose and a new dystopian Trilogy as well. “A little something for everyone,” she said when asked about it.
Of course, writing is not the only passion in her life and every author needs some down time. When she isn’t working on her books, Ms. McNulty enjoys reading and just poking around in her garden.
Janet McNulty - Mellow Summers 08 - Trick Or Treat Or Murder Page 7
