Ghost of a Chance

by Yasmine Galenorn

  "Then who inherits?" I was confused. There went Walter's one motive for murder down the drain.

  "Diana. She left most of her money to her daughter."

  "I suppose that makes sense. What happens to the money now that she's dead, too?"

  Murray's voice was strained. "I don't know, but it won't go to him. That was one of the stipulations—the money will never touch Walter's hands."

  This put a whole new spin on things, and I wasn't sure what I thought. I glanced at the clock. Four-thirty. "I've got to get ready for tonight. Are you going to be there?"

  "Nah, I didn't know her very well, and anyway, I'm on duty tonight. A couple of the guys from the force will be there, though. Their wives were in Susan's theater group."

  I thanked her and hung up. The store was actually quiet for a change. "Cinnamon, I'm leaving early. Close up at six, please."

  She was counting cookies, wrapping them in tiny cellophane packages for our customers; just a little "thank you" for their patronage. "Sure thing. Mom's taking the kids to a movie so it doesn't matter if I'm a little late."

  I gave her a big smile. "Thank you for helping me so much this season. I hope you know how much I appreciate it."

  She slid the basket of cookie packages under the counter. "I know. I'll take all the hours you can give me. I like this job, and the extra money sure makes it easier."

  "I understand. I've been there, Cinnamon, I know what it's like. Okay, I'm out of here." I headed out into the flakes that were starting to fall. Wouldn't it ever stop snowing this year?

  * * * *

  I approached the house cautiously. The night before had been relatively quiet, but I didn't trust the silence. The peace could shatter at any moment. I hurried upstairs, and after a whirlwind shakedown of my closet, decided on a floor-length hunter green velvet dress that I had tucked away. I'd worn it often when Roy and I went from one corporate shindig to another. After the divorce, I stuck it in a garment bag and hung it in the back of my closet. Now I'd be wearing it with Andrew.

  I held the dress up to the light, eyeing it critically. Hmm, not bad. I could probably still get into it, even though I had gained fifteen pounds since we moved here. I hunted around for a pair of shoes that would work and finally decided on a pair of black ankle boots. I dropped the gown and boots onto my bed and crawled in the shower, leaving the curtain and door open. I'd clean up the puddles later. Still leery of the bathroom, I wasn't anxious to participate in a repeat performance with the bad boy of the astral realm.

  As I lathered my arms and back, I thought about the upcoming party. What would Walter be like? My intuition was honed with years of practice, but there was a lot riding on this meeting, especially with what Murray had spilled this afternoon.

  After I dressed, I started to sit down at my vanity to make sure that my eyeliner was on straight and that my lipstick wasn't bleeding. Whoa—the woman staring back in the mirror couldn't be me. If she was, then I washed up pretty damn good. My hair cascaded down my back in a nimbus of curls, the faint hints of silver giving me just a touch of refinement. The dress set off my eyes, which were as green as my name. Irish. I inherited my father's looks but my mother's tongue. I patted my belly. Some folks might think that I could stand to lose a few pounds, but I liked my curves. Apparently Andrew did, too, and tonight I could finally see why he found me attractive.

  I opened Nanna's trunk and pulled out a small wooden box. In the box, wrapped in a piece of silk, rested a brilliant palm-sized spike of amethyst crystal. I gently shook away the material and, settling myself on the bed, clenched my fist around the hard, cool gem. I closed my eyes, letting my thoughts drift randomly until the energy around me felt quiet and calm. After a moment of silence I reached inward, searching for answers. What should I do? Had I bitten off more than I could chew when I decided to help Susan?

  My thoughts fluttered lightly around me. Patience, Nanna seemed to whisper. Have patience. Give it time. Wait. Listen. Don't rush the spirits.

  A buzz began to hum at the edge of my perception, like static along a phone line. A voice, feminine and shimmering, otherworldly and ethereal, sparkled out from the crystal. "You must see this through. Unwrap the layers one at a time. You cannot expect to find your way through the mists until you discover the right path."

  The voice was gone. You must see this through.… So I couldn't get out of the mess with a simple exorcism. Unwrap the layers…

  Was I looking in the wrong place, for the wrong reason? Murray's news had blown my theory that Walter had been after Susan's money. At a loss, I brought the amethyst to my lips and kissed it gently. Nanna gave it to me on my twelfth birthday and told me that if I ever lost it or gave it away she'd redden my backside no matter how old I was. I later found out that on her own twelfth birthday, a Gypsy from a nearby village gave the crystal to Nanna and told her to use it and pass it on when she felt it was time.

  Six o'clock. Half an hour left before I had to leave. I hunted through my closet and pulled out a mandarin jacket embossed with a golden dragon pattern. A quick traipse through my jewelry box and I fastened a diamond solitaire pendant around my neck. Roy had given it to me for our third anniversary. I seldom wore any gifts he had bought for me, but tonight I wanted to look beautiful.

  I thought of Andrew and blushed. I didn't want to fall in love; love was messy, love could hurt. And yet, I couldn't help my feelings. So far he was everything I had fantasized about. Promptly at six-fifteen I stepped outside.

  I stopped and stared up at the expanding panorama above me. Sweeping across the heavens like the train of a velvet cloak studded with diamonds, the night sky wavered as chill and unyielding as the ice and snow that covered the sidewalk. A faint glimmer of lights nickered from the north… a rare vision of the aurora borealis. The northern lights danced across the horizon in a shimmer of green and white, waves radiating like pale ghosts riding the winds.

  With a shiver of anticipation—a prescience, perhaps—I cautiously made my way to the car. My boots were slick on the ice, and I made a note to call the Schroeder boy from down the block and pay him to shovel out our walkway. I clutched the tall juniper branches next to the house for support, and their scent mingled with the chill. The smell of Christmas and northern lands and reindeer.

  The parking lot was already partly full by the time I eased into a spot near the entrance. I swept through the doors, blinking under the glaring fluorescent lights as I was transported back to my own high school years. Rows of lockers reminded me of the contraband I had stored in my own, praying that no one would search it—nothing too serious when I looked back, a little pot, a switchblade that I didn't even know how to open but carried so I'd look cool and make bad-boy Jimmy Salver want to date me. At the time, it had all seemed so daring and dangerous.

  Would Miranda do the same? Or would her locker be full of technical journals and notebooks? Instead of pictures of her favorite music groups, I had no doubt that she would plaster up photos of comets and astronauts on the inside of her locker door. Kip… Kip was an enigma. I had no idea how he would turn out.

  The party in the cafeteria was in full swing, the tables boasting delicate arrangements of hors d'oeuvres and centerpieces of white lilies surrounded by yellow tea roses. A large easel on one of the tables held a publicity poster of Susan, and people had bordered it with flowers and sprigs of holly. Faint music caught my ear—I thought I recognized Swan Lake but wasn't sure. People milled from group to group, teenagers staying pretty much with their own crowd, the adults congregating near a makeshift bar, where a waiter served wine and soda.

  Andrew stood in a corner, talking to two men and a couple of women who I assumed were either part of his writing group or theatrical colleagues. They were dressed in dark suits—the women, too. I changed my mind. Writers wouldn't be dressed so formally; they had to be doctors or lawyers. Harlow and James waved me over. Her eyes were unnaturally bright; she looked like she'd been crying. James looked worried. I wondered if she'd told him she w
as pregnant.

  She kissed me, and James caught me in his arms for a quick hug. "I hear you've captured my buddy's heart. Don't you go breaking it. He's a good person!"

  I blushed and Harlow laughed. "James, you're embarrassing her!"

  "No, I'm not." James winked at me. "She looks delighted and delightful. Emerald, I've never seen you looking quite so lovely as tonight."

  I grinned at them. "Must be the romance. So, how goes the work, James?"

  "Wonderful! I just wish I could get my wife to cheer up and share my good mood, though I guess it might not be appropriate at a wake, you think?" He didn't sound wonderful.

  I wanted to ask what was wrong, but Harlow slipped her arm through mine. "Come on, let's go to the powder room and make ourselves even more glamorous than we are." She strolled me across the room and out the door. I leaned on her arm a little; my knee was hurting, and the high-heeled boots only exacerbated the pain. Why had I given into vanity?

  We found the rest room; it was empty.

  Harlow sighed and looked around. "You'd think they'd put a divan or something in here. All ladies' rooms should have them." She dropped onto the hard little bench against the wall, and I gratefully joined her.

  "What's wrong? Something seems up." I could sense it… she was just a big old ball of despair and worry and tension.

  "Oh, Em, everything's a mess. James has been offered a six-month assignment in Africa. He's been trying for this job for months and I'd made plans to go with him should he get it. Eco-safari… environmental films, stuff like that. What can I do? If I keep this baby, there's no way I can go jolting around the savanna for six months in a bumpy Jeep. If I tell him, he probably won't go, and this is the chance of a lifetime. It could send his career soaring!" She buried her head in her hands.

  "Mess" was the word for it. I raised her chin so she was looking directly into my eyes. "Listen to me. If you have an abortion and James finds out later, it will end your marriage. I guarantee it. He loves you, he worships the ground you walk on, and if you do something like this, he will never trust you again. Are you willing to destroy your marriage because of your fear? You have to talk things out and he has to have a say in the matter."

  She nodded, sniffling. "I'm so confused."

  "Think straight, woman. You know James loves you. You love James. Whether or not you choose to have this baby, the two of you must make a united decision. He's the father, and he's your adoring husband." I dropped my hand and she searched my face, hungry and afraid. "Tell him tonight. Don't wait any longer."

  "I guess I should. But what if he wants it? What if I get fat? What if I develop anorexia again and hurt my baby? I couldn't live with that."

  "Maybe you will have the baby. If so, then yeah—you'll get fat while you're pregnant, so don't even bother worrying about it—it won't be forever. Look at Jane Seymour; she not only has her twins, she still has her gorgeous hair and figure. You love working out so much that I doubt if you'll have any problems at all." I didn't tell her that I still carried around my pregnancy fat. I had been too thin due to Roy's urging, and I decided after I had the kids that I wasn't going to let him push me around. Just another of our many conflicts. "As far as the anorexia, well, you have James and Andrew and me to lean on. We'll help you make it through the rough days so that your baby can be as healthy as possible."

  She splashed some cold water on her cheeks and dabbed at her eyes, careful not to smear her mascara. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Em. I really don't."

  "Everything will be okay." Even as I said it, I could see Harlow standing there, with a blond-haired chubby little girl beside her. They were laughing as a butterfly settled on the girl's nose. The vision disappeared as quickly as it came. "Come on, let's get back in there before they think something's happened to us." I squeezed her hand, and we headed back to the cafeteria.

  As we reentered the room, I caught sight of Walter Mitchell. He was easy to recognize, standing with the little group that had congregated around Andrew. Something about Walter's demeanor—as if he owned the room—made me give him the once-over. So that was what Susan had seen in him. Though not a handsome man by traditional terms, he emanated power, and power was an aphrodisiac.

  I kept hold of Harlow's arm as we sauntered over to meet and greet. I knew she didn't feel like coping with Walter tonight. He glanced at us as we approached, and a flicker raced across his face bordering somewhere between a rattler coiling to strike and a stalking lion. I immediately thrust myself forward and held out my hand.

  "Mr. Mitchell, may I extend my regrets? Susan will be deeply missed."

  He accepted my hand with a firm but reserved shake. "Thank you. I'm sorry. Have we met?"

  "Oh, yes, at some party last year." I was surprised by how easy the lie came to my tongue. "I can't remember which affair it was offhand, but I do remember you." I let go of his hand and turned to Andrew. "I told you I'd be here by six-thirty."

  I gave him a grin and waited for his cue. Some men were skittish about displaying affection in public, but he leaned down and planted a firm kiss on my cheek, avoiding my lipstick as he pulled me to his side. Walter stepped a little closer, crowding us while at the same time jostling Harlow out of the circle. A predator. He was a predator. I knew it as certain as I knew that Andrew was a protector. Walter leaned toward me. Bells rang—warning signals. I stood my ground, but took a step closer toward Andrew.

  "Tell me, what is it you do?" Walter's tone was too friendly, his eyes too cold.

  "I own a shop." I decided to divert his energy, throw him off guard if I could. "We're also terribly sorry about your daughter. Coming on top of her mother's death, it must be a great shock. I hope that Harlow and I were helpful to the police and that they catch the maniac who killed her."

  If I hadn't been able to feel his energy shift, I wouldn't have known that my words had any impact at all. Harlow managed to keep herself still, but she stared at me like I'd lost my mind. Andrew gave me a tight squeeze that left me breathless.

  Walter straightened his tie. "Thank you. I'm only glad that Susan didn't have to hear the news. How is it that you and Mrs. Rainmark knew the girl?"

  The girl? He referred to his daughter as the girl? Definitely a cold man. "Susan mentioned her. We wanted to give our condolences to Diana about her mother's death and ended up walking in on the murder scene." He was watching me too closely.

  "Diana chose to keep her life separate from ours," he finally said. "Only recently did she reenter Susan's life, and I suspect it was for selfish reasons. You have to understand, Diana was emotionally unstable. She had the bad habit of picking the wrong friends. My guess is that this time, she chose someone dangerous as well as unsavory."

  Harlow cleared her throat. "Seattle seems like a dangerous city. I'd never move back to a big city. Would you, Emerald?"

  "No, no. I wouldn't." Uncomfortable with the awkward pause punctuating our conversation, I asked, "When is Diana's funeral going to be held?"

  Walter pointed to a younger man across the room. "My assistant is taking care of that matter. I believe it's being held next Tuesday. If you're interested in attending, I suggest you call my office and ask for Toby Gilmore. He can give you the information. And now, if you will excuse me, I have other guests to talk to."

  After Walter was out of earshot, both Harl and Andrew pounced.

  "What on earth… ?" Harlow leaned close so James wouldn't hear.

  Andrew took hold of my elbow, jostling me. "That man is dangerous! He may not seem like it now, but I guarantee you, don't mess with him. I don't want you hurt."

  I cautioned them to lower their voices. "I wanted to see how he would react."

  "And at what conclusion have you arrived?" Andrew folded his arms. He wasn't smiling anymore, and I had the feeling that I was two seconds away from a lecture.

  "We can't talk about this here. How long is this party supposed to last?"

  "Until nine. Since I organized it, several of the group's other members
volunteered to clean so we can be out of here by nine-fifteen." He sighed. Loudly.

  I slid my arm around Harlow's shoulders. "I got some information for both of you about Walter and about why Mr. B & U showed up in the first place. I'll fill Andrew in tonight and tell you tomorrow."

  She shrugged. "I could come over tonight—"

  "Don't you have something to tell James?" I said pointedly.

  She frowned. "I guess. I don't know if I'm brave enough, but I'm going to have to sooner or later."

  I patted her arm. "Go on, go talk to him. If he flips, call me."

  She swallowed, close to tears. "I'll talk to you later. Night, Andy." With a quick peck on our cheeks, she whisked herself off to where James was talking with a few of the theater people. She whispered into his ear, and a few moments later they were bundled up and bustling out of the door.

  Andrew frowned. "What was that all about?"

  I shook my head. Harl was one of my best friends and deserved my loyalty. "I can't say anything right now. I promised."

  "You sure?" I nodded. Andrew kissed me on the forehead and pointed to a group of people standing near Susan's picture. "I'd better get ready to give the speech."

  I waved him off. I needed to think, anyway. I'd been worrying about Harlow ever since finding Diana's body. Since she was pregnant, I shouldn't let her help me out. Bad enough with Mr. B & U on the loose, but Walter was a whole 'nother category of dangerous. What kind of friend would I be if I let her get hurt? Let her take a chance that might put her at risk?

  Andrew was preparing for his speech when a strange man entered the auditorium. He caught my attention from all the way across the room; his energy was disturbing—chaotic, like a whirl of clouds and mist. His hair shimmered like white gold, and he wore a suede jacket, jeans, and a pair of motorcycle boots. He silently pushed his way through the mingling guests to where Walter stood. At his approach, Walter reared back, clenching his fists. I maneuvered close enough to hear what they were saying.

  "What the hell are you doing here? I told you never to come back to Chiqetaw."