The Ghost Hunter Next Door: A Beechwood Harbor Ghost Mystery (Beechwood Harbor Ghost Mysteries Book 1)

by Danielle Garrett

  Yikes. Lucas and I exchanged a glance.

  Calvin scrubbed a hand over his clean-shaven jawline. “When the property management company told me they were having trouble keeping tenants in the house longer than a few months, I finally caved. I took it off the rental market and started looking into contractors to fix it up and sell it. That’s how the show found me, I guess. I was looking for someone to come in and renovate it, as there’d been no bites selling it as-is, between the condition of the place and those absurd rumors floating around. Anyway, the studio contacted my agent, who forwarded the request to me. Like I said, I wasn’t crazy about having to appear on-camera and tell some story about the home and its history, but for the price they offered, I’d have been a fool to turn it down.” His mouth curled into a smile. “Besides that, my divorce was already final, so that harpy didn’t get any of it!”

  “Silver linings,” I quipped.

  Lucas stifled a laugh.

  I frowned at him and then shifted my attention back to Calvin. “Listen, I don’t know how closely you’ve followed the filming, but there have been some strange things happening at the house even in the last week since it started.”

  Calvin gave a begrudging nod. “I overheard something when I was on the set.”

  “But you’re sure things like that never happened when you were living there?”

  “I already told you ... no, they didn’t.” Calvin narrowed his eyes. “I don’t appreciate feeling like I’m being baited. You have one more chance to tell me what it is that you want, or I’m going to ask you to leave.”

  I glanced at Lucas. He capped his water bottle. “Mr. Harrison, we’re not here to ruffle your feathers.”

  “It sure seems that way,” Calvin fired back.

  I held up a hand before Lucas could respond. “All right. I’m gonna shoot straight with you, Calvin. When Rosie died, it seems that her spirit was attached to the house. This isn’t a case of old pipes and floorboards. There is a living and—well, not breathing, but, still very conscious, spirit living in the house.”

  Calvin’s eyes went wide. As did Lucas’s. He clearly hadn’t anticipated my cliff dive.

  What can I say? I’m not a very good liar. I’ve found through trial and error that the truth is a better bet. Best case scenario, they believe me. Worst case … well, it can certainly get ugly, but I haven’t ended up in a rubber-walled room just yet, so I figure I’m still doing all right.

  Calvin’s eyes darted to Lucas. “Is she serious?”

  Lucas nodded. “Uh huh.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m still sitting here!”

  Calvin scowled at me. “Listen, lady, I have no idea what kind of Kool-Aid you’ve been drinking, but I’m not interested in having a glass for myself, all right? Now, if you’ll please leave, I have work emails to tend to.”

  Calvin rose and started for the door but I remained planted in my chair a moment longer. “Do you ever talk to Wendy anymore?”

  Calvin stopped cold and pivoted on the heel of his polished loafer. “Wendy?”

  “Rosie said she was with you that day,” I said, my voice quiet. It was a Hail Mary, but worth a shot.

  Calvin sputtered for a moment. “Get. Out.”

  Chapter 12

  Lucas jumped up and reached for my arm. “Come on, Scarlet. It’s time to go.”

  “Hey!” I tried to yank my arm back but Lucas easily held his grip.

  “Apologies, Mr. Harrison,” he said with a curt edge to his voice.

  Calvin didn’t reply. He followed as Lucas escorted me from the hotel room and slammed the door as soon as we were clear of it.

  I whipped around to face Lucas the moment he released my arm. “What the heck was that?” I seethed.

  His eyes were stone cold. “Are you trying to get me fired? I thought the whole reason I enlisted your help in the first place was to keep me from getting canned.”

  I crossed my arms. “Well, this might come as an unpleasant surprise, but I’m not here to help you! I’m here because of Rosie.”

  Lucas scoffed. “Right. The ghosts.”

  My jaw dropped. “What—you, you don’t believe me anymore?”

  He dragged a hand over his short cropped hair. “I don’t know anymore. This whole thing is so—”

  “Crazy?” I hissed.

  Okay, so he’d hit a trigger.

  Lucas mirrored my closed-off posture by throwing his arms over his own chest. “Yeah! If I’m being honest. I think this whole ghost thing has gotten way out of control.”

  “You saw it firsthand!” I screeched. “Or, do you think I hooked those flower pots to fishing wire and did the whole performance myself?”

  That shut him up.

  “Ghosts are real, Lucas. Whether you find it overwhelming, or inconvenient, or whatever. It doesn’t really matter. Believe me or don’t. Either way I’m—”

  I stopped short and rocked back on my heels as an elderly couple rounded the corner. They were headed our way and wore matching expressions that told me our argument had carried down the corridor. They gave us tight-lipped smiles but mainly tried to avoid eye contact as they hurried to their room.

  When the door was closed and the hallway quiet, I drew in a deep breath. “Okay, this is getting out of hand. Bottom line, I was trying to help. How else was I supposed to find out what happened that night? I couldn’t think of a better segue.”

  “I don’t know, but Scarlet, you hit him over the head with a lead balloon bringing up the ghost stuff. Geeze. I mean, you’ve got to read the room!” He sighed and dropped his arms. He stared at me for another long moment, then pivoted and headed for the elevator bank.

  Apparently the conversation was over. I watched after him for a moment, silently hurling curses at his back, before rushing forward to catch up to him.

  “You know, I didn’t ask for this!” I hissed once the elevator doors slid closed. “I’m trying to do my best but it’s not like I ever dreamed of going full-blown Nancy Drew all over town!”

  Lucas’s jaw tightened. “I’m not asking you to play detective, Scarlet.”

  “Aren’t you?” I hurled back at him, crossing my arms. “You’re criticizing my interrogation skills and—”

  “Interview skills,” he corrected.

  “Whatever!” I threw my hands up. “I’m only here because I want to help Rosie and keep her from making a horrible choice that she’ll regret.”

  “I can appreciate that,” he replied, his tone clipped. “But in order to reach that objective, you have to tread lightly. You can’t go around throwing out accusations and spouting off stuff about ghosts.” He paused and scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I believe you, okay? But most people will think you’re on something and you’ll lose all credibility.”

  The elevator reached the lobby floor. The doors slid open and the quiet whoosh silenced our argument.

  Lucas ushered me forward and I scurried off the elevator. I kept my pace a few steps ahead of his, opening the front door of the hotel for myself, and made my way across the parking lot. Neither of us said anything until we were back in the cab of the truck. “All right, we need to reset,” Lucas said, his tone cranky. He started the truck, letting it idle in place as he cranked the heat up.

  “You’re right,” I said quietly, keeping my gaze trained on my folded hands. “I’m completely out of my league here. At this point, I’m not sure if I’m going to do more harm or good.”

  “Well considering that you’re the only one who can talk to Rosie, I’d say you’re pretty valuable.” Lucas sighed. “Scarlet, I need your help on this, all right?”

  The quiet vulnerability in his voice startled me. I glanced over at him and our eyes met. My stomach swirled and I silently cursed myself. It was all Lucas’s fault. Him and those blue eyes and dimpled smile. He was all kinds of trouble. I should be in my shop, listening to music loud enough to drown out the sound of Hayward and Flapjack bickering, and working on drawing up some new designs for the front wind
ow display.

  With a quiet sigh, I accepted that, like it or not, I was waist deep in the quicksand and there was only one way out. I pushed everything to the back of my mind. “What’s our next move?”

  Lucas swiveled his gaze back out the front windshield and stared, unblinking, at the row of neatly trimmed hedges that lined the perimeter of the parking lot. “You said there were two people there when Rosie died.”

  I nodded. “Wendy Harmon. She was Rosie’s roommate and friend. Best friend, I think is what she said. She was her maid of honor, at least.”

  “Do we know where she lives now? I don’t think the name’s come up for the show. Normally they have me pull some background information on anyone appearing in the episode.”

  “I don’t know what happened to her. I’d have to ask Rosie. If she doesn’t know, then …” I trailed off, unsure of what the next step would be in that case.

  “I can do some digging. I have access to several different databases and can usually put together a pretty solid profile on someone in twenty-four hours.”

  “Impressive.” I fought back a wry smile. “The ghost whisperer and the super-spy. We just need that voice-over guy and we could make one hell of a movie trailer.”

  Lucas smiled and the tension between us diffused slightly. “I think that might be giving me a little too much credit. I mean, sure, I could take on Bond in the gym any day of the week, but I’m not taking down cartels and mobsters on the weekends.”

  “More of a nine-to-fiver, huh?”

  Lucas’s chuckle gave way to a full-bodied laugh and I relaxed as the warm sound flowed over me. I laughed with him, and the rest of the pressure and irritation vanished.

  “There is one other lead I want to track down,” I told him as he backed out of the parking space.

  He gave me a sly grin. “You sure you’re not detective material? You’ve got the lingo down pat.”

  “I’m sure.” I laughed. “I barely manage to figure out who the killer is before the end of a CSI episode.”

  “Do you want to go talk to Rosie’s mother? It’s not too late.”

  The clock on the dashboard glowed 6:43. Lucas’s truck was on the older side, but the inside was tidy and smelled fresh, probably thanks to the cardboard tree dangling from the radio dial. For a brief moment I wondered why he didn’t hang it from the rear view like everyone else, but didn’t care enough to ask.

  “No,” I decided. “I need to talk to Rosie first. I’m not sure how she would react if I showed up at her mother’s house.”

  “What if it’s not her mother that lives there anymore? What if she’s upset with whoever lives there? She’s obviously got a territorial streak. She can’t blow things up at the Lilac House, but the deal you made doesn’t include any other houses in town.”

  I considered his theory. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to drive by and check it out.”

  Lucas steered us toward the highway that would lead us back to Beechwood Harbor. We remained silent for a few miles, each working through our own mental recap of the conversation. Lucas’s face twisted up as we got closer, but I didn’t interrupt him to ask what he was thinking. As I studied his profile, I realized how grateful I was to have him there with me. If not for him, I wasn’t sure I’d have been able to get Calvin to talk to me in the first place, and it was nice to have someone by my side to sort out the nuances of the conversation. I hadn’t asked to get thrown into the middle of a cold-case investigation, but if I had to figure it out, it was nice to have a partner.

  We took the exit and Lucas finally voiced the thoughts that had been winding through his mind. Without taking his eyes off the road, he asked, “You think he did it?”

  “Calvin?” I chewed at my lip for a moment and then shook my head. “I really don’t know. He didn’t give me the warm-and-fuzzies, but that doesn’t mean much.”

  “Did Rosie say anything about problems in their relationship? Was there a history of abuse? I’d imagine for it to escalate to such a degree, there would have been some kind of lead-up.”

  “She didn’t say anything. All she said was that they were two weeks away from their wedding, and then she walked in on him and Wendy and put two and two together. But I don’t know if her theory holds up.”

  “Why not?”

  “Gwen and I were talking about it and—”

  “Gwen?”

  “Hippie ghost.”

  “Ah. Right.”

  “If Calvin and Wendy were having an affair, why would they have been in Rosie’s bedroom? Wendy had her own room. In addition to that, Calvin was making quite a good amount of money at the time, so it’s not like he couldn’t have met Wendy somewhere a little more discreet. A hotel or something.”

  “You wouldn’t believe how stupid people get when carrying on affairs,” Lucas replied.

  “Personal experience?” I quipped, only to regret it when his jaw tightened. I cringed. “Sorry. That was supposed to be … funny.”

  “Not me,” Lucas said. “My parents. It’s a long, messy story.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Lucas hitched a shoulder but fell short of pulling off the casual, detached gesture.

  Silence engulfed us again and my gaze drifted out the passenger window.

  “He seemed sad to me,” Lucas finally chimed in.

  I looked over at him. “Calvin?”

  He nodded. “I guess that could be regret. Guilt, even. But I don’t know if I’d peg him as a killer.”

  “It could have been an accident,” I pointed out, grateful to be back on even footing.

  “They were arguing. Maybe he reached for her and she twisted away and fell?”

  “He couldn’t come forward with it at the time and now it’s just been too long. He wants to put the whole thing behind him and is resentful that the show is dragging up the memories.”

  “But why did he keep the house for so long after she died? He even said his wife begged him to get rid of it. Wouldn’t he have sold it the minute he could? Why hang onto it and keep that connection alive for so many years?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.” The more I thought about it, the less sense it all made.

  We passed the carved sign that welcomed us back to Beechwood Harbor. The woodwork had been done by a local craftsman who had a tiny shop in the heart of town. The shop was stuffed to the gills with handmade furniture and gift items.

  “Which street did you say it was?” Lucas asked.

  “Marigold.”

  He didn’t ask for further directions, but within minutes, turned onto the right street. Apparently, in addition to being heart-stopper-handsome and too smart for his own good, he also had some kind of internal GPS navigation.

  I was about to throw out a smarty pants remark about it when I spotted movement out of the corner of the windshield.

  Dread rose up inside me, surging like a geyser.

  “Wait!” I pointed ahead, forgetting that Lucas couldn’t see what I did. “There’s Rosie!”

  I flew out of the truck the same second Lucas threw it into park. He called after me but I tore off, not willing to miss the chance to speak to her. Not to mention, there was a part of me that didn’t fully trust the deal she’d made with me not to terrorize anyone.

  Her silver silhouette passed under a street light. If she heard me thundering after her, she was unconcerned, not even bothering to glance over her shoulder.

  “Rosie!” I hissed, not wanting to draw the attention of the neighbors. Thankfully, it was still early spring and the sun had already set. Most of the houses had at least one light on, or the blue glow from a large TV screen shone as the residents gathered for a movie or to review the news of the day.

  Rosie stopped in front of the house from the night before and stared up at it. She didn’t look my way, but starting speaking. “This is my mother’s house. All these years, I never came here.”

  I stared at her hazy profile, stunned into silence. Twenty-four years spent only a few streets away and s
he never came to see her mother? What had kept her away all that time? Normally, it was my policy that I didn’t try to imagine my life as a ghost. It was too morbid. But in that moment, standing beside Rosie as she watched her mother’s house, I couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to exist, albeit in a limited capacity, but to no longer exist to the ones you’d loved the most in life. To watch them go on with their lives, knowing you couldn’t participate … it must be horrible.

  Rosie’s face didn’t give away any emotion. After a moment, she quietly added, “I didn’t want to see her in pain.”

  “I’m sorry, Rosie,” I said.

  Footsteps sounded behind me and I twisted to glance over my shoulder. Lucas was approaching slowly, his eyes scanning the sidewalk. His gaze met mine and I inclined my head in Rosie’s direction. He gave a nod of understanding and stopped walking.

  “Do you know who else lives here now?” Rosie asked me.

  I shook my head.

  “Wendy.”

  My eyebrows shot up my forehead. “Wendy? Are you—” I stopped myself, realizing the question was insulting.

  Rosie slid her eyes to mine, a look of disapproval on her face. “Of course I’m sure. Why do you think I was here before?”

  “I didn’t know, Rosie.” I slid my hands deep into the pockets on my coat. The temperature was rapidly dropping now that the sun was gone and I rose up on my toes a few times to get the blood circulating through again. “How did you find out?”

  “I followed her.”

  “From where?”

  “Home.”

  What had Wendy been doing at the Lilac property? Lucas said that she wasn’t slotted as a guest on the Carter’s show.

  “When was this? Yesterday?”

  Rosie didn’t answer me.

  “She stole my fiancé, right under my nose, and now she has the audacity to move in here with my mother. What next? Will she steal the house when my mother is gone?” Rosie seethed, her eyes narrowed up at the house. “Not as long as I’m still here!”

  I had no proof, but my gut told me that her energy was already splintered. I couldn’t prove it, but if I had to guess, I would have said that either she’d been somewhat manic in life or the effects of the manifesting were catching up to her. If it was the latter, it could spell disaster for all of us.