The Ex Who Saw a Ghost (Charley's Ghost Book 4)

by Sally Berneathy

Carstairs sat back in his chair and regarded Teresa as if she were an idiot. “That man went to prison thirty years ago. He’s still there. I check regular.”

  In and out of reality.

  Amanda drew in a deep breath and prepared to ask the important question. “Have you ever shot any of these intruders before last night?”

  He nodded. “Sure. I shot a lot of them.”

  Success! Hand in her lap, Teresa gave her a thumbs-up.

  “Did you shoot one of them with your Glock?” Amanda asked. Maybe he had shot Parker after all. Maybe dead men didn’t always have accurate memories of dying.

  “Glock? I don’t own a Glock. I don’t hold with those silly plastic guns. Give me a nice Smith & Wesson .38 revolver or a Colt 1911. But a man don’t hunt with a hand gun. I killed a lot of deer with my Winchester Model 70. That’s what I shot them trespassers with.” He paused and looked puzzled. “The deer always bled, but those men I shot didn’t bleed until that one yesterday. He got blood all over my porch. Helen won’t like that. She keeps the place spotless. One time I tracked mud on that porch, and she got upset with me. She doesn’t usually get upset with me. She’s a good woman.”

  Teresa looked at Amanda and rolled her eyes. “So you shot people, but they didn’t bleed?”

  Carstairs laid his hands on the table and stared down at them as if he could find his lost sanity there. “I thought that man would just run away like the others did after I shot them. But he didn’t. He fell down on my porch and bled and then that other man grabbed me and brought me here.” He shook his head slowly. “Helen’s going to be mad at me if I’m late for dinner.”

  “We might as well get out of here,” Charley said. “This guy’s crazy.”

  Carstairs lifted his head. “I am not crazy. I get a little confused sometimes, that’s all.”

  Amanda’s jaw dropped. She looked at Teresa who was having the same reaction.

  Amanda turned back to Carstairs. “Who said you’re crazy?”

  Carstairs flipped a hand toward the corner where Charley stood. “That man over there, the guy with the blond hair. Who is he?”

  “It’s my ex-husband.”

  “Husband,” Charley corrected.

  Carstairs laughed. “Reckon there’s some question about that divorce.”

  Holy cow. Carstairs could see and hear Charley.

  “What about that other guy?” he asked. “The one who hasn’t said anything. What’s your name? You look kind of familiar.”

  Could he see Parker too?

  “Course I didn’t kill you!” Carstairs said. “If I’d killed you, you’d be wandering around my property, hollering and carrying on like the rest of them. Wouldn’t be coming to see me in jail.”

  “Do you know that man?” Amanda asked tentatively. “The one who said you didn’t kill him?”

  “Of course I don’t know him. He came with you. Don’t you know him?”

  “He’s with me,” Teresa said. “But you said he looked familiar.”

  Carstairs shook his head. “Everybody looks like somebody I used to know. Most of them are dead now, but that doesn’t stop them from coming back. I wish Helen and Grace would come back. Helen came back but she didn’t stay long.” He smiled wistfully. “I was so happy to see her in the kitchen, pulling out a cabinet drawer, getting ready to cook just like she used to do. But then she left. I hope she comes back. Maybe next time she’ll bring Grace with her. Are we through talking? I’m tired.”

  “Yes,” Amanda said. “I think we’re through.”

  Maybe the man wasn’t senile after all. Maybe people thought he was because he saw ghosts. Maybe the men he shot–other than Jake–didn’t bleed because they were already dead.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Amanda leaned against her motorcycle and looked into the distance, past the picturesque buildings of the Grackle town square, toward the orange October sun perched at the edge of the horizon. Darkness came earlier every day this time of year, and it would soon overtake them. “Looks like Parker may be right. I don’t believe Carstairs killed him.”

  “I told you so.” Charley stood next to Teresa, folded his arms and leaned a few inches into the side of Teresa’s car. Was he deliberately or unconsciously mimicking Amanda’s pose? “A man knows who killed him and who didn’t, especially men like Parker and me. We know things that you people stuck on the earthly plane don’t.”

  Amanda let that one pass. They had more important things to do than discuss Charley’s ego. “I believe him when he said he doesn’t own a Glock, that he’s a revolver man, that he hates polymer guns. That’s not uncommon for older men, and in that same vein, I can’t see him sending those text messages that came from Parker’s cell phone after Parker was dead. I doubt if Carstairs has ever used a cell phone.”

  “You’re probably right,” Teresa said. “Jake didn’t mention finding Parker’s cell phone in Carstairs’ house?”

  “No, but it could be there and they just didn’t find it on that first search. Or maybe the murderer planted the Glock but kept the cell phone for some reason. Parker, do you know where your cell phone is?”

  She waited.

  Teresa sighed. “Guess what? He says it’s not important.”

  “Parker, that’s getting a little old. I think I’d like it better if you’d just say, no comment, or none of your business.” Amanda clenched her fists then relaxed them. “Okay, that tells us his killer has his phone. And we will assume that person is not Carstairs.”

  “Even if Carstairs didn’t kill Parker, he could have killed those other men in his well,” Teresa said. “He admitted he’d been shooting people.”

  “People who didn’t bleed.” Amanda considered what Carstairs had said and tried to make sense of it. “I don’t know. I just can’t see him being organized or sane enough to drag bodies to the well and dump them in.”

  “I can’t believe you’re taking up for him after he shot Jake. I’d think you’d want to see him punished.”

  “I do, and he will be. He shot an officer and the senator’s son was in a well on his property. Based on those two things alone, he’s pretty much screwed. But the reason he shot Jake, the reason Jake and Sheriff Laskey came to his front door in the first place, is because somebody killed Parker and dumped his body in Carstairs’ well. That same somebody could have planted the murder weapon in his house. I feel kind of sorry for that senile old man who lost his wife and daughter and then lost his mind. The person I blame for Jake being in the hospital is the murderer who caused all this.”

  “And there’s nothing we can do about it since the murder victim won’t tell us who really did it.” She glared at the ice cream parlor. Either she’d developed a sudden distaste for ice cream or Parker was standing between her and it.

  Amanda had to make a decision. She could go home now and wait for events to take their course, for the justice system to work things out, hope that Carstairs was only punished for the crime he actually committed. Or she could take action. “Actually,” she said, “there is something we can do. If Carstairs shot men who didn’t bleed and he saw his dead wife in the kitchen, there is one among us who may be able to communicate with the spirits of those men in the well, maybe even the spirit of the senator’s son. They may not be as reluctant as Parker is to tell us who killed them.”

  Teresa stopped glaring at the ice cream place and blinked a couple of times. “You mean me?”

  “You’re the only medium around.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. If I can get information from the spirits of the victims, we can prove Carstairs is innocent, Parker can move on into the light, and Ross will have to admit I have a talent, not a psychosis.”

  “I think a quick trip to Carstairs’ house is in order. It’s practically on our way home anyway.” Amanda lifted her helmet.

  Her cell phone rang. She lowered the helmet and took the phone out of her pocket.

  Jenny. Oh, dear. She’d forgotten about her sister.

  “Where are you? W
hen are you coming home?” Jenny asked.

  Amanda cringed. She wasn’t accustomed to having someone monitoring her activities, waiting for her, demanding she come home at a certain time.

  “I ordered lasagna with garlic bread,” Jenny continued, “and Caesar salad from that wonderful Italian place over by me. They’re going to deliver it. I had to pay extra for them to come to this neighborhood, but it’s worth it.”

  “It’s going to be about an hour. I have an errand I have to run first.”

  “Well, hurry! I can’t wait to see you! I have a big surprise for you!”

  Amanda disconnected the call before her sister could continue the monologue. She drew in a deep breath and put the phone back in her pocket. “My sister has another surprise for me.”

  “Maybe she’s redone the living room to match the bedroom.” Charley smiled. Actually, he smirked. “Or maybe she’s going to choose a different style. Maybe you’ll return home to deer heads on the wall with a coffee table of moose antlers sitting on a bear skin rug.” He laughed uproariously at his own joke.

  “I wonder if it’s possible to have a ghost’s head stuffed and mounted on the wall.” Amanda jerked her helmet on, covering her ears to block the sounds of Charley’s laughter.

  As she followed Teresa’s car to the highway, she fancied she could feel the weight of a ghost on the bike behind her. It was a heavy weight.

  

  The road leading to Carstairs’ house had once been gravel, a treacherous surface for a motorcycle, but over the years dirt and mud had settled around the bits of stone. The ride was bumpy and uncomfortable but not dangerous.

  Yellow crime scene tape glowed in the faint moonlight as they approached the place. Teresa parked with the hood of her car under the tape, and Amanda came to a stop beside her.

  Like its owner, the house was big and old and not well cared for. The white paint was peeling and one of the shutters on the tall left window dangled precariously. The railing on the wide wooden porch that wrapped from the front around one side was missing a few rails and needed paint. Weeds shared the yard with grass that probably hadn’t been mowed or watered all summer. A large magnolia tree on one side and a live oak on the other spread wide limbs all the way to the roof.

  Charley leapt off the bike, darted directly through the tape and looked around. “I don’t see anybody. How about you, Parker?”

  Teresa stepped out of her car, lifted the tape and ducked under. “I don’t see anybody, but I can feel another energy. Somebody’s close. Let’s walk into the woods in the direction of the well.”

  Night was settling around them, and the dark woods didn’t exactly beckon invitingly. “Maybe if we wait a few minutes right here, one of them will come by,” Amanda suggested.

  “Scared there might be ghosts in those woods?” Charley laughed again.

  “Shh!” Teresa waved a hand at him.

  He shut up.

  Amanda would have to remember that particular gesture.

  “Hi!” Charley bounced up and down, waving wildly. “I’m Charley! I can see you!”

  Teresa looked in that direction. “Are you one of the victims from the well?”

  “You already know him, Parker?” Charley sounded a little disappointed. “Oh, well, yeah, I guess spending time in a well together would make for a bonding experience.”

  “I’ll see that your sister knows what happened to you,” Teresa said. “Lacy Patterson in Waco, and you’re Grant Patterson. Got it.” She turned as if to face another spirit. “Mark Randolph. Okay.”

  “I know you!” Charley pointed into the darkness. “You’re Senator Anderson’s son! You were in the well!”

  Teresa nodded. “I’ll tell your father how sorry you are that you caused him to worry and that you’re okay now.”

  As Amanda listened to Charley talking to the spirits and Teresa repeating the names then making promises to contact loved ones, she felt like the new kid on the playground, left out of the in group. “Who killed them?” she finally asked.

  Teresa listened then frowned. “A hunter? A deer hunter?” She tilted her head. “I don’t understand. A hunter shot you? Was it an accident?” Her voice said she knew the answer to that question even as she asked it. She turned to Amanda and swallowed hard. “The killer is waiting in the woods with a rifle right now, getting ready to shoot Lila.” She furrowed her brow. “Calm down, Parker. It’s not like being dead is the end of the world.”

  Amanda moved closer. “What’s going on?”

  “Lila’s on her way over here from the Wagner place,” Charley said. “Stanley gave her Parker’s cell phone to plant in Carstairs’ house like she planted the gun.”

  Amanda gave herself a mental slap upside the head. “In the kitchen drawer. That’s where Jake said they found the gun. That’s where Carstairs saw his blond wife’s ghost, except it wasn’t her ghost. It was Lila. Did Stanley give her the gun too? Did he kill you, Parker?”

  “He says that’s not important,” Charley reported. Of course he did. “Mark says she’s never going to make it here. The same guy who killed these men is going to shoot her as soon as she sets foot on Carstairs’ property line. Parker’s all weirded out. He wants us to save her.”

  “Save her from a man with a rifle? I vote no,” Amanda said. “We’ll call 911.”

  “Parker says there’s no time. We’ve got to get to her before the shooter does.”

  “Parker, we’re not a SWAT team,” Amanda protested. “I didn’t even bring a hand gun.”

  Teresa spun to face her. “You didn’t? I thought you always packed.”

  “When I left home this morning, I was planning to visit Jake in the hospital. That’s not something that requires artillery.”

  “But she’s got a mouth on her,” Charley said. “She could run them off with sarcastic snipes.”

  Amanda slid her cell phone from her pocket. “I’m calling 911.”

  Charley looked over her shoulder. “No, you’re not. You don’t have service.”

  Amanda returned her phone to her pocket. “Carstairs called 911 a lot. That means he has a land line. We’ve already entered a crime scene. I don’t think a little breaking and entering will get us in much more trouble.”

  She strode up the weathered steps to the porch then stopped, her gaze caught by a dark, irregular stain that spread over a large section of the porch. A lump caught in her throat. The sad old man they’d talked to in jail had done this, spilled Jake’s blood, almost killed him. It was hard to connect that event with the man who went in and out of reality, showing no signs of a cruel streak, but there was the evidence.

  However, Jake would not have been on this porch if someone hadn’t killed Parker. Her anger focused on the person who set this thing in motion, the one who killed Parker and the other men then callously dumped their bodies in the well.

  If the latest ghost was to be believed, the Wagners had possession of Parker’s cell phone and were using it to facilitate Lila’s murder. If her body was found with his cell phone, she would be tied to his murder.

  The Wagners were allied with the man waiting in the woods with a rifle. Was this how the other victims had died? Why? Lila used meth, the men in the well might have used meth. Was all this drug related? Was it that simple and that senseless?

  The Wagner brothers practiced target shooting on Carstairs’ property because they knew he never left the house. What else had they done on his property, knowing he’d never catch them doing it?

  Cooked meth in partnership with the man with the rifle? Sold meth to Lila and the others? Killed them and tossed them in the well?

  Again, why?

  And where did Parker fit in?

  The more they learned about this situation, the more questions she had.

  Charley appeared on the porch, floating a couple of inches above one side of the stain. “I just checked. There’s lots of guns and ammo in there, enough for an army. Guess the cops only took the murder weapon. There’s enough for everyb
ody to take a couple. Teresa, Parker, come on. We’ll save Lila.”

  No one moved. No one spoke. An owl gave his eerie call from a tree close by, and a coyote howled in the distance. Amanda felt a tiny bit sorry for Charley.

  “Oh.” He dropped his head then lifted it and gave a lopsided grin. “Oops. Guess you and I won’t be shooting anybody today, Parker, old man. It’s up to us to do the planning and all the important stuff. Come on, Amanda, let’s go get guns for you and Teresa.” He disappeared into the house again.

  “Great idea, Charley,” Teresa said, “except for the small detail that I’ve never shot in a gun in my life.”

  Amanda hesitated but only for an instant. She didn’t like Lila, but she didn’t want to see her killed. More importantly, she wanted to stop the two disgusting men who were responsible for the deaths of several people, including Parker, and she wanted to stay alive herself. “This is a good time to learn. I’ll show you which end the bullet comes out. If nothing else, you can always pistol whip one of the jerks.”

  Amanda walked carefully around the blood stain to the front door. Of course it was locked, but the lock was old. She jiggled the knob a few times. She still wore her motorcycle gloves, so if they didn’t get caught in the act, she wouldn’t be leaving fingerprints. She laid her shoulder against the door and shoved.

  It creaked then slid open.

  The living room had probably once been comfortable and inviting, but Carstairs’ wife and daughter had been dead a long time. A raggedy brown afghan covered most of the faded pattern on the beige sofa that might have started out in life as white. An empty coffee cup sat on a dusty table beside a recliner with a sagging seat. A black phone rested next to the coffee cup.

  “In here!” Charley called.

  Amanda lifted the receiver of the phone and was relieved to hear a dial tone. She punched in 911 and laid the receiver down. Someone would come to investigate. With any luck, they’d get there in time.

  She followed the sound of Charley’s voice to the master bedroom. A patchwork quilt lay half on and half off the king size bed. The rumpled sheets looked as if they hadn’t been washed in a while. But the gun cabinet that covered almost an entire wall was dust free and filled with guns…shotguns like the one Carstairs had used to shoot Jake, rifles to hunt deer, and revolvers. No automatics and no polymer.