by Terri Reid
Chuckling, Peter nodded. “She was always a passionate filly.”
“Well now, can you be any more offensive?” Ian asked.
Tracey paled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it,” she stammered. “I mean, I’ve known Sally…”
“Oh, I didn’t mean you,” Ian quickly corrected. “It was Peter’s comment that was uncalled for.”
Looking slowly around the room, Tracey’s eyes widened. “Peter’s comment?”
“Auch, and kick me for the fool that I am,” Ian said, slapping himself on the forehead. “And, so, coming to the party a wee bit late, I should have asked, how many people in the room know about the ghosts that are also present?”
Mary, Mike and Peter lifted their hands.
“And, just to set the record straight, I’m not a ghost,” Mike said. “I’ve graduated. I’m a guardian angel.”
“Oh, sorry, Mike, you’re right,” Ian replied, then stopped, shook his head and turned to Mary. “And how much sleep would you think I’ve had lately? And would lack of sleep cause such a case of unguarded mouth?”
Laughing, Mary reached over and placed her hand over Ian’s. “You haven’t had much sleep at all,” she said. “And what little you’ve gotten has been interrupted by long distance web calls between you and Gillian. So, yes, that’s probably what’s causing your…”
“Diarrhea of the mouth,” Mike finished.
Sitting back in her chair, watching the interplay, Margaret finally put her tea cup back in her saucer and leaned forward. “So, you’re telling us you have the same gift as our Mary,” she said. “You can see those who have passed beyond this life too.”
Ian nodded. “Since I was a lad,” he explained. “Although, I’ve not seen so many, nor gotten quite so involved with their lives until I came here and worked with Mary. My research has increased by milestones.”
“You weren’t joking when you told Honora you were a professor researching paranormal phenomenon?” Tracey asked.
“No, it’s the truth,” he replied. “I’m working through the University of Chicago studying how psychic ability can aid in police investigation and other areas of law enforcement.”
“There’s money for studies like that?” Tracey asked.
Grinning, Ian nodded. “Aye, well, when you head the foundation that sponsors the fellowship, they canna turn you down too easily,” he replied.
“You’re Sir Ian MacDougal?” Tracey said, her eyes widening.
“Oh, la-de-da,” Mike said. “We’ve got a Sir in the room. Should I have been curtseying?”
“It’s an old family title,” Ian said. “Really, it doesn’t mean much. But, Mike, I’d like to see you curtsey, if you wouldn’t mind.”
Tracey looked around the room again. “Mike? Who’s Mike?”
“Oh, I can tell you that,” Margaret said. “Mike is Clarissa’s guardian angel. He saved our lives last night.”
She looked in the direction Ian had sent his comment and smiled. “And I thank you for it, Michael,” she said.
Mike’s smile softened. “Tell her it was my pleasure,” he replied.
“He says it was his pleasure,” Mary said, and then she turned to Tracey. “He was a fireman, before he was murdered. I worked with him to solve his murder and then we solved another case together. He passed over, but we were lucky enough to get him back.”
“Damn straight,” Mike replied, and then bit his lip and looked upwards. “Sorry, that one just slipped out.”
“So, who else is in the room?” Tracey asked.
“Well, I’m assuming the naked ghost is Peter Swift,” Ian said, “Although we’ve never been properly introduced.”
“Naked?” Tracey asked.
“I really wish you hadn’t mentioned that,” Peter said to Ian. “It’s not how I wanted everyone to picture me.”
“Well, you see, when your spirit gets trapped here, on earth, because of unresolved issues,” Mary explained, “you appear the way you were when you died. Peter died in a bathtub, so, of course, he’s not dressed.”
“But I do cover myself,” Peter exclaimed, waving his towel around.
Tracey stared at the towel levitating in midair, dancing around. “Is that Peter?” she asked.
“Aye, and that’s a sight I’d rather not have seen,” Ian replied.
“Why didn’t I notice the towel earlier?” she asked.
“Peter was polite enough to stand behind the counter when the rest of you were here,” Mary said. “So the towel was hidden next to the stove.”
“Oh, my,” Margaret gasped, bringing her hand to her chest.
Mary turned around quickly, facing her mother. “Ma, what’s wrong?”
“I just realized, I dried my hands on that towel,” she replied, staring down at her hands.
She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. “If you’ll just excuse me,” she said. “I’ll just go wash my hands again.”
Walking out the kitchen, she paused at the door and turned back to Mary. “There aren’t any other…surprises waiting for me in the upstairs bath, are there?” she asked.
“No, Ma, the upstairs bathrooms are off limits,” she replied and then she whispered, as she glanced at Mike, “Most of the time.”
Her mother continued upstairs and Mary pulled out the document she had started reviewing when their meeting started. “So, now, let’s get back to the autopsy,” Mary said.
Peter glided to her chair and peered over her shoulder. “I did not weigh that much when I died,” he complained.
“Peter,” Mary said, looking up at his face.
“What?” he asked.
“Shut up.”
Chapter Thirty
“It was nice of you to drive into Rockford with me,” Katie Brennan said to Ashley, as she maneuvered the mini-van through the Cherry Vale Mall parking lot. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble for you.”
Smiling at her, Ashley shrugged, “Well, let’s see,” she said. “I could have been doing my rotation on the downtown parking limit offenders or I could go to a mall. Which would you choose?”
Katie laughed. “Well, when you put it that way,” she said. “I suppose you should be thanking me.”
She pulled into an empty space near one of the mall’s entrances and parked the van. Turning around in her seat she looked at the two little girls, busily chatting with each other. “We’re here,” she said to the astonishment of both girls.
“Already?” Maggie asked. “But we just left.”
“Yea, already,” Katie said. “I need you to remember the rules.”
“We have to stay next to you and Ashley,” Clarissa said. “No running off.”
Katie nodded. “And?”
“And this is a looking trip and a trying-on trip, not a buying trip,” Maggie said.
“Perfect,” Katie said. “Now, let’s go have some fun.”
The little bridal shop was on the second floor and the owner was waiting for them when they arrived. “I have the dresses all laid out and ready for you to try on,” she said to the girls when they entered the shop.
The girls were about to run into the back dressing room area when Ashley put a hand on both of their shoulders and stopped them. “You both wait here while I take a look first, okay?” she asked.
Nodding, the girls sidled up to Katie and watched Ashley disappear behind the curtains into the back room. A few minutes later, Ashley walked back out, replacing her gun into its holster. “Everything’s fine back there, especially those two darling dresses,” she said.
“Can we go now?” Clarissa asked.
Ashley nodded. “Yes, go put them on,” she said. “I want to see how they look.”
Dashing past Ashley, through the curtains, they squealed with delight when they discovered the frilly flower girl dresses hanging in the large dressing room.
“Do you need any help?” Katie called.
“No,” Maggie yelled back. “We want to surprise you.”
Katie
smiled and then turned to Ashley. “You know, sometimes I forget the danger Clarissa is in,” she said. “How does she…how do all of you deal with it?”
Shrugging, Ashley turned and met Katie’s eyes for a moment, and then turned back to watch the dressing room area. “For me, it’s part of my job,” she said. “Although, we both know it’s more than that. I don’t know how they deal with it. I get to go home and not worry about someone coming after me. But they don’t have that luxury and after last night…”
“Last night?” Katie asked urgently. “What happened last night?”
“Copper broke into the house while Margaret and Clarissa were home alone,” she replied. “Thank goodness they somehow were warned he was coming and hid down in the basement.”
“Thank you, Mike,” Katie mouthed softly.
“Anyway, as you can imagine, things are on high alert at the house,” Ashley finished.
“What can we do to help?” Katie asked. “Would it be better to have Clarissa stay with us?”
“No, I think they want to keep Clarissa as close as possible,” Ashley replied. “But, doing what you’re doing, helping Clarissa live somewhat of a normal life and helping Mary with some of the wedding details is actually a big deal.”
“Well, it’s not hard to help Clarissa,” Katie said. “She and Maggie are as thick as thieves.”
Clarissa helped zip up Maggie’s dress and then turned around to let Maggie do the same for her. “So, have you figured out how we are going to solve our first case?” Clarissa asked, looking over her shoulder at Maggie.
“You could maybe spend the night?” Maggie suggested, as she zipped the dress up.
Shaking her head, Clarissa turned back around. “No, the bad man tried to break into our house last night,” she explained. “So, I have to stay where I can be protected.”
“Well, that makes it kind of hard to be detectives if people are watching you all the time,” Maggie complained.
Sighing, Clarissa nodded, as she scooted up on the bench in the dressing room. “How ‘bout if we sneak out at night?” she said suddenly, her smile brightening.
“What about Mike?” Maggie asked.
“We could have Mike help,” Clarissa said. “We could tell him an old man is stuck somewhere dark and he’s dead. Mike would help us.”
“Mike would tell Mary and Chief Alden,” Maggie replied.
“That’s what we could do,” Clarissa said.
“What?” Maggie asked.
“We could tell my daddy. He could help find Mr. Rupp for us,” she said.
“But, then it wouldn’t be our first case,” Maggie complained.
“Sure it would,” Clarissa said. “We’d make my daddy promise that he wouldn’t tell anyone else. So he’d be working with us, just like he works with Mary.
Maggie considered the idea for a moment and then finally nodded. “Okay, when Mr. Rupp comes to see me tonight, I’ll ask him what he remembers doing last, so we know where to send your daddy.”
Clarissa smiled brightly. “This is going to be great.”
“Yeah, isn’t your daddy going to be surprised?”
Chapter Thirty-one
The house was finally quiet and Mary was enjoying some soft music as she studied the autopsy report once more, hoping to find something that she’d missed the first time. It was obvious that he died before he went underwater, but how could he drown while sitting up in a bathtub?
She sat back in the chair, closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. She replayed the scene from the hotel bathroom back in her mind. No one had entered the room. He had been alone. Whoever killed him was able to do it remotely. How did someone asphyxiate a person remotely?
Picking up the report, she scanned it one more time. A word caught her eye. Hemoptysis. She hadn’t seen that before. Why would there be blood in his throat when he died? That was generally caused by a bronchial irritation. Had he been a smoker? Had he had issues with his lungs prior to this? Perhaps this was simply a natural occurrence. She picked up a pen to jot down some notes when her mother called from upstairs.
“Mary, darling, Rosie and I need to speak with you for a few moments,” she said. “Would you mind running upstairs?”
Placing the pen down, she pushed the chair back and headed upstairs, absently walking up the stairs as she reviewed the case in her head. She walked down the hallway to her bedroom, where the door was ajar and stopped at the threshold.
“So, what do you think?” her mother asked.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Mary looked at her mother. “I’m sorry. What?” she asked.
Her mother walked over to her, placed her arm around Mary’s shoulders and turned her toward the bed. Her ivory wedding dress of satin, overlaid with Irish lace and the delicate matching veil were laid out on top of the bedspread. “Oh, Ma, it’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“You’re going to be such a beautiful bride,” Rosie sniffed, blotting her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Come on now,” Margaret said. “There’ll be plenty of time for tears later. Now we have to be sure it fits. There’s nothing worse than a droopy wedding gown.”
Wiping her eyes once more, Rosie stuffed the handkerchief in her sleeve and nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “We need to be sure it fits the way it should. Off with those jeans, young lady.”
Mary started to unbuckle the clasp and then stopped. “Wait, I need to take care of something first,” she said.
She stepped out of the bedroom and walked to the staircase. “Mike,” she called. “Mike, can you hear me?”
Appearing next to her, Mike leaned against the banister. “I’m always at your beck and call, babe,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“My mother and Rosie have my wedding dress ready for me to try on,” she began.
“And you realized the errors of your way and finally have decided to run away with me?” he asked.
“No, but good try,” she said with a chuckle. “Can you stay out of the bedroom while I change into my dress? Please?”
“Well, of course,” he replied. “You didn’t even have to ask. I would never…”
“Oh, yes, you would,” she replied.
Laughing, as he faded away, she heard him whisper into her ear. “Oh, yes, I would.”
Rolling her eyes, she laughed as she turned and hurried back down the hall to her room. She let herself back in and smiled at Rosie and her mother. “Okay, ready,” she said, unbuckling her jeans and sliding them down her legs. “Just had to be sure we weren’t going to be disturbed.”
Once she was undressed, Rosie and Margaret held the dress, so she could step into it. The body of the dress was form-fitting through the chest, waist and hips and then flared out from mid-thigh with a long train in the back. Mary slipped her arms through the lace three-quarter length sleeves and adjusted the princess neckline. “What do you think?” she asked, almost afraid to turn around and look into her full-length mirror.
“Just a minute,” her mother said from behind her. “Now comes the fun part, cinching the corset back. Rosie, give me a hand, will you?”
The two women threaded the satin material through the loops on the back of the dress, tightening it as they went along. The dress molded nearer to Mary’s body with each layer of lacing. “I don’t think I can remember when my waist was as tiny as this,” Margaret said, as she tugged on the ribbons.
“I can,” Rosie said. “I was four years old and about three feet high.”
Margaret laughed as she finished the final threading, tied ribbons together at the base of the corset and pushed the excess material beneath the skirting. She stepped back and looked at her daughter. “Ah, you look like a princess,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ve never seen you more beautiful.”
Rosie pulled her handkerchief out of her sleeve and dapped at her eyes again. “Simply perfect,” she said, slipping her arm around Margaret’s waist. “Thank you for sharing her with
me.”
“Don’t make me cry,” Mary warned, as she lifted the heavy skirt of the dress and turned towards the mirror. “I don’t want to stain my dress with my own tears. I’m sure it’s bad luck.”
She stared at herself in the mirror and inhaled softly as tears filled her eyes. It was perfect. It was as if the dress had been made for her, rather than for her great-grandmother. The ivory color made her skin glow and the lines of the dress made her waist look tiny.
Her mother came up behind her and fastened the long lace veil in her hair. It swept along the sides of her face and fell down her back, lying on top of the train. She looked at her daughter in the mirror. “You’re a vision, you are,” she whispered, clasping Mary’s hand in her own. “Thank you for wearing the dress; my heart is filled to overflowing.”
“I couldn’t have been married in anything else,” Mary said, leaning over and kissing her mother. “I love it, Ma. It’s just perfect.”
Rosie blew her nose loudly into her hankie and then reached into her pocket. “I know I’m not family,” she said, coming up behind Mary. “But you’ve always made me feel like I’m your sister.”
Margaret raised an eyebrow and cleared her throat.
“I mean, an aunt,” she amended, with a grin. “A much-older-than-your-mother aunt, as a matter-of-fact, and I would be honored if you would allow me to give you my pearls to wear with your dress.”
She stood up on her toes behind Mary, slipped the ivory strand of pearls over her neck and fastened them in the back. The pearls gleamed softly against Mary’s skin, flawless and identical; lying just below her collarbone, they were the perfect accessory to the dress.
Lifting her hand, Mary brushed the smooth texture of the pearls with her fingertips. “They’re beautiful, Rosie,” she said. “Thank you.”
Rosie handed her a black jewelry box. “There are earrings that match, inside the box,” she said. “After Stanley gave me his family pearls on our wedding day, I knew I wanted to give these to you.”
