by N. M. Howell
Mrs. Pots had resumed her humming and seemed lost again in her thoughts.
“Can you ask Mrs. Brody to fix this?” Sheriff Reese motioned to Mrs. Pots. “I can’t leave her alone if she’s spelled like a child.”
I sighed. “Yes, we’ll ask her once we get home.”
I grinned to Mrs. Pots, who winked back when the Sheriff had turned his back.
Sheriff Reese nodded. “Thank you. I think it’s best you all leave now. We’ve got a lot of work to do, and only so much time before the Feds step in and take over the investigation.”
“How long do we have?” I asked.
“I’d say no more than a few days. We need to think quickly if we’re going to keep Mrs. Pots out of jail. The Feds won’t be so lenient with a first-hand eye witness to the murder.”
“Too bad we have no leads and no idea how to solve this thing,” I said glumly as we made our way out through the front office.
We left feeling completely defeated and hopeless, with no new insights or even a glimpse of hope.
12
We had barely pulled out of the police station parking lot when I nearly jumped out of my seat.
“Oh, my God, why didn’t I think of this earlier?” I shouted.
The girls all stared at me and waited for me to continue.
“His ghost,” I said. “Why didn’t we think of this before? Why don’t we just ask his ghost?”
Jane laughed. “We did just go through this a few weeks ago. I can’t believe we missed something so obvious.”
I laughed as well. “I know, right? Could have saved us the entire trip to New York.”
“And we know exactly where his ghost would be,” Rory said. “We don’t even have to send out a search party.”
“It’s so obvious,” I said. “Trey was standing there talking to Mrs. Pots for at least twenty minutes before it happened. If anyone would have seen someone lurking around the dessert table, it would have been him.”
We drove the rest of the way home with a newfound confidence and a solid game plan.
Rory had barely put the car in park when I bounded out the door and raced around the house into the backyard. Mrs. Brody was busy taking down the decorative lights toward the rear of the yard near the bluffs, and I ran to join her.
“Whoa, calm yourself,” Mrs. Brody said to me as I tried talking through winded breaths. I tried to remember the last time I had gone for a run around the boardwalk, and realized it must have been nearly a month. No wonder I was so out of shape.
I took a few deep breaths to regain my composure, and, by the time I could speak clearly, the girls had joined us in the yard.
“His ghost,” I finally managed to say. “Trey’s ghost. Why don’t we just ask him what happened? He probably knows more about what happened than any of us do.”
Mrs. Brody thought about that for a moment, then smiled. “Well, of course. What a great idea.”
She dropped what she was doing and led us back towards the house.
“How long does it typically take a ghost to appear after their murder?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s uncertain,” she replied. “Whenever they’re ready, I imagine.”
The table where Mrs. Pots had set out her desserts was right near the back of the house, and was still cordoned off with police tape.
“He would appear right here, wouldn’t he?” Bailey asked.
I nodded. “From what I learned during the Shadow Festival the other week, ghosts typically appear at the site of their murder. It’s not a hard and fast rule; if you remember, Jessica and Mr. and Mrs. Littleton’s ghosts appeared here in town rather than at the site of their murders.”
We looked around the table and the rest of the yard, but saw no sign of Trey’s ghost.
“That’s not to say they didn’t appear there first,” Mrs. Brody offered. “We can ask the experts, though.”
After a minute of silence, Mrs. Brody spoke again. “Oh, we all know you’re lurking about, Mr. Richardson. You might as well make yourself useful.”
Without hesitation, Mr. Richardson’s spirit arrived through the living room wall.
“You rang, my dear?” he bowed to Mrs. Brody.
She rolled her eyes. “You know, you really should find your own place to live. You can’t keep loitering in my apartment, pretending not to be here."
“I don’t loiter,” Mr. Richardson turned up his nose.
“Poltergeist,” Mrs. Brody accused.
“Old hag,” Mr. Richardson rebutted.
“Okay, children,” I interrupted. “Play time is over. Time to mingle with the grownups.”
Mrs. Brody rolled her eyesand went to busy herself in the kitchen nearby.
“Mr. Richardson, how long does it take for a person’s ghost to appear after they die?”
“Not all people return as ghosts, my dear.”
I nodded. “I remember. Only murder victims, right?”
“Correct,” he said. “It never takes long. A person’s spirit technically appears immediately. Sometimes, it takes them a while to accept their death and materialize as an entity, however.”
“So, you’re saying Trey’s ghost should, in theory, be here already?”
“Trey’s ghost?” the spirit raised his eyebrow. “Are you telling me a murder occurred here?”
“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Mrs. Brody snapped at him. “You know everything that goes on in this place, you translucent nosy pervert.”
“Well, I say,” Mr. Richardson held his hand to his chest and feigned insult. “I resemble that remark.”
Mr. Richardson winked at me, and I couldn’t help but grin.
“Besides, I’ve got better things to do with my time than watch you all the time, Mrs. Brody.”
He put an emphasis on the word ‘you,' and my grin quickly turned into a frown.
“Are you implying…” I began, but he quickly interrupted me.
“To answer your question,” the ghost said. “There is no reason why your spirit should not be here by now. All you need to do is find him. I can help if you like.”
“His ghost can wait,” I said sharply. “I’d like to clarify something first, if you don’t mind.” I put my hands on the hips and looked at Mr. Richardson expectantly.
“Oh, my, look at the time,” the spirit glanced down at his watch-less wrist. “Things to do, people to see.”
With that, Mr. Richardson turned and disappeared through the exterior wall.
I glared after him. “You don’t think he watches us upstairs, do you?”
Mrs. Brody shrugged. “Oh, who knows what any of those old farts are up to when we’re not looking.”
I blinked, confused. “Okay, I’m really weirded out right now.”
Rory was holding her arms across her chest and looked rather pale. “They can’t see us in the shower, can they?”
Mrs. Brody patted her on the shoulder then laughed. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, dear.”
“So, no?” Rory tried to confirm.
“I just wouldn’t worry about that.”
We all eyed each other, then looked back to Mrs. Brody.
“That’s not really an answer,” I said.
“Don’t you have a murder to solve?” she asked.
I sighed. “Yes. Fine.” I then raised my voice and shouted to the walls. “But don’t think this is over!”
I shuddered, then tried to push the thought of peeping tom old man ghosts from my mind.
“Shall we go find Trey?” Rory asked.
“Sounds like a plan.” The girls left the apartment and headed towards the backyard.
“Is there anything we can do to encourage his ghost to appear?” I asked Mrs. Brody.
She nodded to me, then walked over to her large cabinet next to the counter. She pulled out a large metal container with a tight-fitting lid and removed a handful of large, dried and shriveled leaves.
“Tobacco,” she said. “Among other things.”
“Really?” I asked,
skeptical. “How does that help?”
Mrs. Brody rolled a number of leaves together and tied it with string. “It’s nourishment for the spirits. The ritual dates back to cultures who were along long before we arrived on this continent. It’s very powerful stuff.”
“So, we just burn it?”
She nodded. “Try not to breathe too much in, if you can help it.”
I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Just what we need, a bunch of stoned witches summoning spirits.”
Mrs. Brody handed me the wrapped leaves and wished me luck. I hesitantly took it from her and joined the girls outside.
“What’s that?” Rory asked.
“Is that tobacco?” Jane walked up to the bundle in my hand and smelled. “Yep.”
“Tobacco and something,” I added. “Not too sure what the ‘something’ is, though.”
“Oh, smart,” Bailey reached over to take the tobacco from me, and I eagerly handed it to her. “I’ve read about ancient rituals using tobacco to summon spirits.”
“It’s all yours,” I said. “Besides, we don’t really need to summon him. We just need to find him.”
Bailey smiled. “Either way, this will help.”
“Just don’t get me too stoned,” I said. “I’d like to keep my head relatively clear for when we ask him questions.”
“Relax, it’s just tobacco,” Bailey said.
“Just tobacco,” I laughed.
“And something,” Rory added.
“And something,” Jane repeated.
I rolled my eyes.
Bailey walked over to a torch that was still burning in the yard and lit the end of the bundle. She then waved out the flame and a steady stream of smoke emanated from the tips of the leaves.
“That doesn’t actually smell that bad,” I commented.
Bailey smiled. “That’s the tobacco talking.” She winked at me then proceeded to wave the smoke over the area surrounding the table.
We all stood in silence and watched.
After a few awkward minutes of standing around, I was starting to become dizzy. “Okay, I think that’s enough with the tobacco, I think.”
“Are we doing it right?” Rory asked. “Should we be chanting anything? Is there a way for us to call him?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, but we’re not doing ourselves any good breathing in all this smoke. If I breathe in any more of this stuff, I’ll be seeing spirits that aren’t actually here.” I coughed and had to sit down on the grass to prevent myself from falling down as my head felt like it was spinning a mile a minute.
Bailey extinguished the bundle and joined me on the grass.
“So, now what?” she asked.
“We wait?” I suggested. “Don’t really know what else we can do. Trey’s ghost is our only hope of figuring this whole thing out.”
“What if he didn’t see anything?” Bailey asked. “What do we do then?”
I rubbed my eyes. “I don’t know. It’s not looking good for Mrs. Pots.”
Bailey sighed. “You don’t think she actually did it, do you?”
“I don’t know what I think anymore.”
Mrs. Brody came to join us in the backyard a while later, carrying a tray of tea. She set it down on a table and joined Bailey and me on the grass. I reached for a mug of the steaming tea and smiled as I breathed in the relaxing smell of the chamomile tea.
I was a coffee drinker through and through, but there was nothing like a cup of tea to calm the soul.
“Any luck?” Mrs. Brody asked.
I shook my head. “No, nothing. I’m not sure what else we can do.”
“There’s nothing you can do but wait, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, I forgot to mention,” I said while I still remembered. “Sheriff Reese asked if you could reverse whatever spell you cast on Mrs. Pots. I smirked at my landlady as she sipped her tea innocently, averting my gaze.
She finally shrugged. “I reversed it when I left.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Mrs. Brody, she was painting the walls with an eraser and was humming the soundtrack to cats.”
Mrs. Brody laughed. “Oh, smart woman, she’s probably milking it for all it’s worth.”
“So, she’s really not under a spell?” Bailey asked.
“That was one hundred percent Nancy Pots,” Mrs. Brody laughed. “She probably knows the Sheriff won’t lock her up if she’s still under my influence.”
I shook my head. “Clever.”
Another twenty minutes passed, and I fell back against the grass and stared up at the cloudy sky. At what point do we just give up?
“Bored?” Mr. Richardson appeared out of nowhere in the backyard and came to float next to the dessert table.
I had nearly fallen asleep. “It’s no hope. Trey’s ghost doesn’t seem to want to show up.”
Mr. Richardson shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t realize he was murdered.”
I sat upright and stared at him. “What do you mean? I thought you said all murder victims come back as ghosts?”
“They do,” the ghost said. “But his spirit could have been confused. Perhaps he thought he simply choked.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand. How does that make any sense? You get to choose whether you come back or not?”
Mr. Richardson paused. “Well, no, not exactly.”
I fell back on the grass and rubbed my eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m simply suggesting that perhaps his spirit was convinced he wasn’t murdered, and passed on.”
“In order for that to happen, then he obviously wouldn’t have witnessed anything suspicious before dying, right?’
“Correct.”
I sighed. “So that at least confirms that whoever spelled the cookie did so without Trey seeing anything.”
“Does that help in your investigation at all, dear?” Mrs. Brody asked.
I stared up at the clouds passing by overhead and thought for a moment. “Yes, I think so. We know that the cookie was either spelled before Trey approached Mrs. Pots’ table, or else it was done in such a way that he didn’t suspect anything wrong.”
Well, at least that was something.
My phone rang in my pocket a moment later, and Sheriff Reese’s name flashed across my screen.
I answered on speaker phone and held the phone out for everyone to hear.
“You’re on speaker,” I said to the Sheriff.
“River,” Sheriff Reese sounded serious. “Bad news.”
I sat bolt upright. “Tell me.”
“Just got a call from the higher-ups. They’re coming tonight to transfer Mrs. Pots to a state facility. After ten o’clock, this will be out of our hands.”
I hung up the phone and fell back on the ground in silence.
If we didn’t solve this case in the next few hours, Mrs. Pots would end up in prison.
Great.
13
I had totally forgotten that Jordan and I had rescheduled our dinner date for that night.
It was a good thing, actually, as I would have probably been nervous all day and that really wouldn’t have helped the day go by any easier. It seemed a bad time, and I considered rescheduling again, but it would be a nice distraction from the stresses of the day.
We originally agreed to go to a new French restaurant in a small bed and breakfast just outside of town, but there was a mix up with the reservation or something, so, we decided to go to the local sports bar instead.
I rummaged through the pile of clothes I had strewn across my bed, but couldn’t seem to find anything appropriate to wear. The first outfit I tried on felt too fancy, so I switched it out for my favorite pair of ripped jeans and a t-shirt, but then that felt too casual.
I kicked off the jeans and pulled on a pair of black high-waisted skinnies, but couldn’t find a top to go with it.
I was ready to pull my hair out when I heard a knock from my door and Rory poked her head in my room.
“You sound like you’re havi
ng a fight with the cats,” she said, laughing from just outside of my bedroom. “Need help finding something to wear?”
My frustration must have manifested itself in grunting noises, as she also claimed she heard a buffalo coming from my room.
I rolled my eyes, but accepted the offer graciously.
“I hate this,” I said. “It’s just a date. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
Rory came to my bed and helped sort through the massive pile of clothes.
“You must really like the guy,” she said. “It’s normal.”
I grunted, then turned my attention back to the clothes.
“I’ve got nothing to wear.”
“Those pants look great,” Rory said. “Pair that with your back boots and you’re good to go.”
“And what? Just show up wearing my bra as a shirt?”
She laughed. “I’ve got just the thing. Hang on.”
Rory raced out of my room and up the stairs. I continued to rummage through the clothes, but gave up after a moment and sat down on the foot of my bed, defeated.
“If I can’t even dress myself, what hope do I have of managing a relationship?” I asked Soot as he jumped up to join me on the bed.
My little gray cat rolled over on his back for belly rubs as he always liked to do, and I obliged. I welcomed the distraction.
“Here,” Rory announced as she came back into the room.
She was holding up a long, light-gray sweater.
“Oh, cute,” I said. Rory tossed it to me, and I slid it on over my head, then went to look at myself in the mirror. “Perfect!”
The sweater fit snug and had a wide neckline that showed off my shoulders. It was nice, yet casual, and would pair perfectly with my black boots.
“It’s Bailey’s,” Rory said. “She’s too busy chatting with that bartender from New York. I haven’t seen that girl so love-struck since she first met Ryan Bramley.”
I laughed. “Good. She needed someone new to help her get over that creep. A new guy is just the distraction she needs.”
“Too bad he lives in New York.”
I shrugged. “It’s not that far. Maybe this means we’ll have more road trips coming up.”
I turned and posed in front of Rory like a mannequin.
