Harper Grant 03-A Witchy Christmas

by DS Butler

  Bernie puffed up his chest and zoomed a little ahead of me on the trail. “Boris wouldn’t have murdered me. The idea is crazy.”

  “Well, what can you tell me about him?”

  Bernie turned around so he was hovering backward up the trail as I walked toward him. “He’s not very interesting really. We were in business together — real estate. A few years ago I cut a private deal and managed to make quite a bit of money from it. Boris thought I should share the profits with him. I disagreed, and it led to us falling out. But I hardly think that’s a good enough reason to stab someone.”

  I raised an eyebrow as I stepped around a frozen puddle. “It’s one of the most common motives for murder. Money, love, sex and revenge,” I listed, counting each item off on my fingers.

  “Well, aren’t you a cheerful soul. I think you really should get out more, Harper. You shouldn’t dwell on people’s murders. It is quite macabre.”

  With that, Bernie turned around, zooming along the track making me walk faster to try and keep up with him.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, it is not like I go searching for murders to investigate. It is because I am the only person that can see you that I think I should help. But if you don’t want my help, you only have to say so.”

  Bernie stopped abruptly and waited for me to walk the next few steps until we were level.

  “Don’t be so sensitive,” he said. “I appreciate your help, but it might do you a bit of good to get out more. Go on a few dates, at least. You are only young once.”

  “For your information,” I said marching up the trail, “I had a date this evening.”

  “With Deputy McGrady?”

  I nodded. “Yes, that’s right. He invited me out for a Christmas drink.”

  Bernie chuckled. “I was right. You do need to get out more. It wasn’t a date. He gave you ride to a mutual friend’s Christmas party. Plus, it was quite obvious he was only inviting you to make sure you aren’t going to get yourself caught up in another one of his murder investigations. It’s all over Abbot Cove how you were involved in Elizabeth Naggington’s case, and how you nearly drowned when you tried to investigate Yvonne Dean’s murder.”

  I hated to admit it, but Bernie’s words cut close to home. Had that been the real reason Joe had invited me to Sarah’s? I had a horrible, sinking suspicion Bernie was right.

  I was such an idiot, reading too much into things, and now I’d invited Joe to Christmas lunch tomorrow. I sighed. I still had to break the news to Grandma Grant.

  “Really, Bernie, I don’t think I need your advice on relationships. You don’t exactly have a great track record.”

  “Touché!” He grinned. “You’re very feisty, Harper. Just like your grandmother.”

  I shot him a wounded look. “There’s no need to be nasty, Bernie.”

  After passing my little cottage, we reached the front of Grandma Grant’s house. I needed to break the news to Grandma Grant that I’d invited Joe for Christmas, and I wanted to collect Smudge before taking Bernie to the cottage.

  “Well, just in case he knows anything, we will speak to Boris after Christmas.”

  I pushed open Grandma Grant’s front door.

  Bernie hovered beside me, too close for comfort, and I flapped my hands at him, warning him to give me a bit of space.

  “After Christmas? Surely my murder is more important than a holiday.” Bernie looked put out.

  “I’ve got quite enough on my plate, Bernie. If you want my help, you’ll have to wait till after Christmas.”

  Bernie pouted, and I rolled my eyes. Newbie ghosts were very demanding.

  Grandma Grant and Jess were both sitting beside the fire, talking about how successful the Christmas tree spell had been.

  As I’d opened the door, Jess turned to me with her eyes shining. “Great news, Harper. People all over Abbot Cove have been ringing to say their Christmas trees have been restored to their former glory.”

  “Excellent,” I said hanging my coat on a peg by the door. “I guess that means we don’t have to worry about the residents of Abbott Cove turning up with pitchforks tonight!”

  I tried to keep my voice light and breezy as I walked over to the fire. “We didn’t get much out of Sandy, although she confirmed what Grandma Grant told me about Bernie’s old business partner, Boris Barrymore. He could be a suspect. So I will try and speak to him as soon as possible. Oh, and I forgot to mention…” I kneeled down and scratched Smudge behind the ears. “I may have accidentally invited Joe to Christmas lunch. Still, it’s always nice to have a big gathering on Christmas Day, right?”

  Grandma Grant was silent.

  That wasn’t a good sign.

  Jess let out an exasperated sigh. “Harper, as if we don’t have enough to deal with. Grandma Grant is already under strain because we can’t mention anything to do with magic in our father’s presence, plus you haven’t managed to get rid of Bernie yet.”

  “Hey! I can hear you, you know!” Bernie said, still pouting.

  I turned to face Grandma Grant. “I am sorry. I should have asked you before inviting him, but he said he didn’t have anywhere else to go, and it’s Christmas. I didn’t mean to add to your stress levels.”

  “Stress levels? Who said I was stressed? I’m perfectly fine,” Grandma Grant scoffed. “I can handle Christmas Day lunch for seven people and a ghost hanging around, making a nuisance out of himself, with one arm tied behind my back. It is no problem, at all.”

  I frowned. “Are you sure? Because I could always make up some excuse I suppose.”

  “No, don’t do that. It will be fine. We can’t expect the poor man to spend Christmas alone.”

  But even though Grandma Grant insisted she wasn’t the slightest bit stressed, I couldn’t help noticing the way her fingers were twisting together in her lap.

  No matter how many times she tried to insist she was fine, Grandma Grant was definitely agitated about something.

  * * *

  We left Grandma Grant alone in her house and returned to our little cottage. Bernie wanted to stay at Grandma Grant’s, but I had insisted he come back to the cottage with us.

  As Jess opened our front door, I gave Bernie a very stern warning that he had to stay in our sitting room all night.

  “If I find out you sneaked back to Grandma Grant’s house, or into one of our bedrooms, spying on us, then I will turf you out quicker than you can say Santa Claus, do you understand?”

  I walked into the cottage behind Jess and set Smudge down on the floor.

  Bernie looked hurt. “Well, Harper. You don’t think much of me. I would never do something like that.”

  “Better safe than sorry. I thought we needed some ground rules,” I said grimly.

  Jess set about making some hot chocolate before bed, I told Bernie he could sleep on the couch and made sure he had a blanket even though ghosts didn’t feel the cold.

  Technically, he’d only actually be hovering above the couch cushions, but I felt a little bad for my stern warning earlier and wanted him to at least feel comfortable.

  Bernie hovered over the couch as Smudge stared directly at him, making me wonder again whether animals could see ghosts. They certainly seemed more aware than other humans.

  Jess came out of the kitchen holding two mugs of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and brightly patterned Christmas stockings hung over one arm.

  She put the hot chocolate on the coffee table and then grinned at me waving the stockings. I grinned back.

  These were the same Christmas stockings we’d had since we were children. There was something thrilling about opening them first thing in the morning, and I loved the tradition. Grandma Grant told us we were both far too old for such things, but we ignored her and carried on regardless, and she always put something in the stockings for us.

  Jess hung them on the mantelpiece and then picked up her hot chocolate to take a sip.

  “That looks delicious,” Bernie said. “Are you absolutely sure
ghosts can’t eat and drink?”

  I nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  Bernie sniffed despondently.

  “I do hope Grandma Grant is going to be okay tomorrow,” Jess said.

  “So do I. I probably shouldn’t have invited Joe. Now, that’s another reason Grandma Grant will have to worry about hiding her magic skills.”

  Usually, half a day suppressing her skills would not be a problem for Grandma Grant, but when she got angry or stressed, magic seemed to burst out of her — and never in a good way.

  I took a mouthful of the delicious chocolatey drink and then said as casually as I could, “When Joe came around earlier and asked me to Sarah’s for a drink, would you classify that as a date?”

  A smirked played on Jess’s lips, and I knew she was going to tease me. I regretted asking the question straightaway, especially as Bernie chipped in.

  “I’ve already told you. It wasn’t a proper date,” Bernie said. “You need to get out there and meet more people.”

  I shot him a cool look. “I wasn’t asking you. You’ve already shared your opinion with me this evening, thank you.”

  Jess lifted an eyebrow. “I take it, Bernie didn’t tell you what you wanted to hear?”

  I shrugged. “I just don’t want to make a fool of myself with Joe. I had a nice evening, but I don’t want to read too much into it if he was just being friendly…”

  Jess shrugged. “So take the initiative. Invite him out for a proper date.”

  The very idea made my skin prickle with goose bumps. “Are you crazy? I couldn’t do that. What if he said no?”

  Jess rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a scaredy cat.”

  Smudge let out a small meow.

  “Sorry, Smudge,” Jess said. “No offense meant.”

  I shook my head. No wonder I found it hard to date. I had a ghost sleeping on my couch and a sister who talked to my cat.

  Honestly, what chance did I have of leading a normal life?

  CHAPTER 9

  Jess and I both slept late on Christmas morning. When we left our rooms and came into the living area, Bernie was already awake hovering backward and forwards.

  “Harper! I thought you were never going to wake up. Do you always sleep so late? I have been thinking. Perhaps we should go and see Boris this morning.”

  I was never at my best first thing in the morning.

  I rubbed my eyes and muttered, “Merry Christmas, Bernie. Do you think you could give me five minutes to wake up and get some coffee?”

  “Humph.” Bernie narrowed his eyes and then waved his hand at me. “Oh, by all means, go ahead and drink your deliciously dark, caffeine-rich coffee while I just stand by and watch.”

  I sighed. There went any hope I had of Bernie making life easy for me today.

  “I’m very sorry you can’t drink coffee, Bernie. But I’m afraid I am not going to refrain just to make you feel better.”

  I stalked into the kitchen and took the mug of steaming coffee Jess handed to me.

  “He isn’t going to play up today, is he?” Jess asked in a whisper. “Maybe we could just leave him here?”

  Bernie was determined not to give me a minute’s peace and whirled his way into the kitchen. “Charming! Please, don’t let me get in the way of your lovely Christmas. I have only been murdered, for goodness sake.”

  I was determined not to talk to Bernie until I had some caffeine in my system, so I said nothing and took a sip of my coffee.

  But Bernie wasn’t the patient type. He picked up a teaspoon and rattled it against the table.

  Jess made a grab for it. “Hey! Stop that.”

  I put my mug down on the kitchen counter and looked at Bernie steadily. I was determined not to lose my temper, this was Christmas Day, after all.

  “I will help you, Bernie, I promise. But I do have other commitments today. Maybe you could stay at the cottage while we have Christmas lunch with the family and then afterward…”

  Bernie folded his arms over his chest. “Absolutely not. I am not spending Christmas Day by myself.”

  I smothered a sigh and walked out of the kitchen and back into the living area, heading for my Christmas stocking. I knew that would cheer me up.

  I plucked both stockings from the mantelpiece and handed one to Jess. I felt like I was five years old again as I settled on the floor, cross-legged, and tipped the contents out onto my lap.

  We never bought each other expensive gifts even as we got older. We were far more likely to give each other something we’d made or some of our favorite candy.

  I grinned with delight as I picked up a couple of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk bars, imported all the way from England. My absolute favorite.

  “Thank you!”

  Jess returned my grin as she inspected the contents of her own stocking. I’d managed to fit inside a chiffon scarf that was a beautiful shade of green and matched her eyes.

  Jess always looks chic, and she could carry off the Parisian scarf look. I’d also stuffed inside some candy and a copycat version of her favorite hair clip — which I’d managed to lose one day when I was working at the diner.

  Bernie sulked as he watched us having fun, and I did feel bad for him. If I’d known he was going to be here, I would have organized some sort of present, but what did you buy a ghost for Christmas?

  I turned to the very miserable-looking Bernie, and feeling sorry for him, I said, “I’m going to take a shower and then check on Grandma Grant. If she has everything under control for lunch, then we’ll go and try and find Boris this morning.”

  Bernie broke out into a broad grin. “Oh, Harper, thank you! I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

  “But if Grandma Grant needs me this morning, then she takes priority. Understand?”

  Bernie nodded solemnly. “Of course.”

  After Jess and I showered and dressed, we picked up our gifts and headed over to the Grant family house.

  I bit my lip as we entered the front door, half expecting to see a crazed-looking Grandma Grant tearing her hair out in the kitchen, but all seemed calm.

  Grandma Grant was wearing a red, wool dress — very different from her usual attire, and she actually looked like a respectable elderly lady.

  She wasn’t fooling me.

  “Where did you get that dress?” I asked. “I haven’t seen it before.”

  “I went into the city a couple of weeks ago. It was about time I had a smart dress.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. Most of Grandma Grant’s clothes were old and faded and had been repaired multiple times. Not because she couldn’t afford to replace them, but because she’d never taken much interest in clothes.

  I noticed Jess frown and wondered if she felt the same as me, that Grandma Grant seemed to be trying a little too hard. I’d never known her to care about what anybody thought before.

  “Merry Christmas,” Bernie said, simpering up to Grandma Grant.

  “Bernie says Merry Christmas,” I told her.

  Grandma Grant nodded. “Merry Christmas, Bernie. If you make a mess of my Christmas Day lunch, I will have your guts for garters.”

  He blinked a couple of times, looking alarmed, and I stifled a smile. “Bernie would like me to go and speak to Boris Barrymore this morning. But I told him we couldn’t go if you needed me around here?”

  “Everything is perfectly under control,” Grandma Grant said. “The turkey has already been in the oven for a few hours, and I’ll be taking it out soon. The vegetables are all peeled and chopped.”

  Jess raised an eyebrow and looked impressed. “Did you even go to bed last night? I can’t believe you’ve managed to get all this done.”

  I agreed. “You must have gotten up at the crack of dawn.”

  “Not at all,” Grandma Grant said stiffly. “I’ve just got a system.”

  “As long as that system doesn’t involve magic…” Jess warned.

  Grandma Grant’s eyes flashed as she looked at Jess. “I said there’d be no magic, and I
meant it. I keep my word.”

  Jess nodded meekly. “Fair enough.”

  I looked at the clock. I still had tons of time before my parents and Lily arrived. “I will go and see Boris with Bernie then,” I said, backing out of the kitchen. “If that’s okay?”

  Grandma Grant simply nodded, and I couldn’t help feeling uneasy. I wasn’t used to this version of my grandmother. I was used to the fiery, stubborn, sometimes rude, version.

  The change in her personality made me nervous.

  * * *

  “You do know where Boris Barrymore lives, don’t you?” I asked Bernie as my feet crunched over the frozen ground.

  “Yes, he lives on Petunia drive, but I doubt we will find him there at this time.”

  I stopped walking abruptly. “What do you mean? Why are we bothering to go to his house if he is not going to be there?”

  “We’re not going to his house. We’re going to the recreational ground beside the school.”

  “And would you like to tell me why?” I asked, wondering why Bernie had suddenly become all evasive.

  “Because Boris is an exercise fanatic.”

  “But it’s Christmas morning. Surely he won’t be exercising on Christmas Day?”

  “I wasn’t kidding when I said he was a fanatic. He’s got a gym membership, but his favorite activity is walking, and he does it every morning rain or shine.”

  I screwed up my face. I wasn’t an exercise fanatic. In fact, I was the exact opposite of an exercise fanatic — whatever that was. I couldn’t understand what drove anybody to exercise outdoors on days as cold as this. My breath was steaming in front of my face. Although I supposed as far as exercise went, a gentle stroll wasn’t too bad.

  As we followed the trail back down to Abbot Cove town center, I reiterated the fact that Bernie would have to be on his best behavior that afternoon and tried to explain a little bit about my family.

  Bernie didn’t seem to understand why anyone would be anti-magic. “I think it’s terrific. I only wish I’d known about this before I died. There were lots of rumors about your family, of course, but I thought it was all a lot of mumbo jumbo. I’ve always thought your grandmother was a rather mysterious, intriguing lady.”