Ghost Walk

by Cassandra Gannon

  No matter what century they were standing in, Jamie Riordan was her Partner.

  He flashed her a slant-y smile, his sour mood evaporating. “So, why are we bickering about what we both already ken?” He slipped an arm around her waist, which was no doubt a graphic PDA by post-Colonial standards.

  Grace let him, because he was Jamie and she’d let him get away with just about anything. “Because there are problems with our relationship that you don’t fully understand.” She informed him, ignoring the scandalized looks coming their way. “I’d explain them to you, but I already know you won’t listen.”

  He sure as heck wasn’t following her instructions to get out of town. Jamie was going along with most of this, because he could feel their connection. Sure, he’d stab Ned just on general principles, but that was a long way from fully buying her crazy tale of serial killings and time travel. Until the memory potion kicked in, he was just an innocent bystander in this mission.

  It was up to her to keep him safe.

  “Let us go back to my ship and you can tell me allllll the problems in graphic detail.” He suggested with a guileless expression. “I’ve also quite an interest in learning what a ‘pizza-tramp’ is. We’ll have a good long talk about all of it.”

  “If we go back to your ship, I’m sure ‘talking’ will be the last thing on your mind.”

  “Ah, you really do know me, lass.” His eyes traced over the Velcro closure to her tour guide costume, as if he was visualizing her naked breasts. He smirked a bit as her nipples beaded in response. “But, I’ve quite a good brain in my handsome head. We’ll compromise. You come with me now and I’ll solve everything for you, before our wedding night. You have my word as a gentleman.”

  No one had ever accused the man of lacking confidence. “You and Rhett Butler, right?”

  His brows compressed. “Who?”

  “Never mind.” Since his life depended on her investigative skills, she needed to focus on finding the killer and not Jamie’s good-natured come-ons. Just walking down the street, Grace could see people slanting him suspicious frowns. Half of Harrisonburg was already convinced of his guilt and only Lucinda had died so far. If she didn’t save Anabel and Clara, he’d be lynched all over again.

  Jamie was still holding her and her free hand came over to grip his fingers protectively.

  His mouth curved. “Grace,” his tone went soft, “are you trying to guard me from the good citizens of this town? There’s no need, love. I did nothing to Lucinda.”

  “I know, but it’s not going to matter. You just need to lay low until I solve everything, alright? I have a plan.”

  “Which is?”

  “To start with, we’re going to find out if Edward Hunnicutt has any bad intentions towards Anabel Maxwell.” She headed for The Raven, trying to recall the eighteenth century’s social mores. “Am I allowed in the tavern or is there some chauvinistic ‘boys’ club’ rule in place?”

  “Ladies donea go into drinking establishments.”

  “Is that like a law or just some policy I can choose to ignore?”

  “If you ignore it, I’ll be put in the stocks for savagely beating the men who haul you out the door.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Wonderful. You’re going to have to get Edward Hunnicutt out here, then. I need to question him.”

  Jamie wasn’t thrilled with that idea. “I donea understand your sudden fascination with that man.” He muttered. “He treats his serving girls terribly, you know.”

  “Oh for God’s sake, Jamie. I’m not planning to seduce the guy or…” She paused, a new thought occurring to her. “Hang on. When you say he mistreats his wait staff, what exactly are you referring to?”

  Jamie hesitated, as if trying to find phrasing that wouldn’t offend her. “He makes them do things for their wages that no honorable employer would be making them do.”

  “Hunnicutt has sex with the girls before he’ll pay them?” Grace translated. “Jesus, I’m rethinking the part where you stab him to death. What a total and complete scumbag.”

  “Indeed. It’s why I would prefer you stay far away from him.”

  Grace shook his head. “No, this is actually a useful clue. Disgusting, but useful. Serial killers are often motivated by power and sexual control. He’s definitely our top suspect.” She gave Jamie a nudge towards The Raven. “Get him out here and let’s see if he has any deviant thoughts about Anabel.”

  Jamie didn’t rush off to do her bidding. “I’m not exactly on friendly terms with the man. How do you suggest I lure him from behind the bar?”

  “I don’t care. Use your imagination.” She made a shooing gesture with her hand. “Go on.”

  “Grace…”

  “Please?”

  Jamie swore under his breath. “Are you going to be here when I get back?” He challenged, still not happy. “I donea like letting you out of my sight. You’ve a tendency to vanish on me.”

  “I’ll be standing right here.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise.” Grace went up on tiptoe to kiss him lightly. “Don’t worry. Even when I vanish, I’m only going back to you.”

  The edges of his lips quirked and his hand touched her cheek. “Maybe so, but I am in no mood to wait two hundred and thirty more years to see you out of that strange dress, lass.” He loped off towards The Raven, before she could swat him.

  Grace shook her head in exasperation. The man was incorrigible. She leaned against a tree, her eyes on The Raven’s door. If Jamie took this a bit more seriously, they’d…

  Oh God!

  Grace gave a sudden gasp and jerked away from the oak, realizing where she was. Her eyes went up to the gnarled branches swaying over her head. This is where Jamie died. The spot where they planned to hang him in four short days. The tree was still alive in this time period, ominously looming over the street. She scrambled away from the trunk, her heart pounding. Maybe she should set the blasted thing on fire. Or chop it down. Or do something --anything-- to ensure that no one could kill him under its menacing limbs.

  His death had never seemed so real to her.

  So inescapably, terrifyingly real.

  What if she couldn’t do this? What if she wasn’t smart enough to solve the case? Wasn’t fast enough to stop the killer? What if she let Jamie down and never saw him again? She could burn out again at any moment and leave him completely unprotected. She could actually feel it happening.

  Peaceful green cornfields. Peaceful green cornfields. Peaceful…

  No.

  Grace gave her head a clearing shake. No. She wasn’t going give into panic and doubt. No matter what, she had to make sure that Jamie survived this. Someone so alive couldn’t spend the rest of eternity trapped in limbo. It wasn’t fair! She needed to find a way to save him.

  She needed him. Grace had been crazy in love with that pirate since she was fifteen years old. She wasn’t about to lose him now.

  The door to The Raven suddenly burst open and a good-looking man with blond hair sailed out like he’d been thrown headfirst. Grace’s eyebrows soared as the guy careened into the street, rolling to a stop by her anachronistic, but very comfy, Keds. It appeared that someone had punched him a few times and then tossed him right out of the tavern.

  And it didn’t take a genius to figure out which Scottish sea captain that “someone” must be.

  “Grace, my love, meet Ned.” Jamie stepped out of The Raven, dusting his palms together. “He’s simply dying to speak with you.”

  “When I told you to use your imagination to get him out here, I expected a little more imagination that this, Jamie.”

  “Yes, well, have I mentioned I’ve no liking for the man?”

  Edward Hunnicutt struggled to his feet, an outraged look on his face. “You can’t just barge into my goddamn establishment and manhandle me like this, Riordan!”

  “Seems that I can.” Jamie retorted. “And I’ll ask you kindly to be watching your fucking language around my fiancée.”<
br />
  Ned’s head swung around to look at Grace. “You agreed to marry this maniac?”

  “I didn’t exactly agree, but I don’t think that’s going to stop him from planning a wedding.” She glanced at Jamie and arched a brow. “A pirate I know recently told me that marriage proposals and kidnappings are kinda the same thing to James MacCleef Riordan.”

  Jamie’s eyes gleamed. “Smart pirate.”

  “Who is this woman? No lady would ever consent to link her name to yours.” Edward spat out, glowering at Jamie. “Why even Lucinda knew better than to…”

  Grace cut him off. “Oh shut up.” She snapped, scowling at the man who she had absolutely no liking for, either. Confrontations usually left her sweaty and panicked, but this was one time she felt just fine shouting at somebody.

  “As I explained, the lady is my bride.” Jamie told Edward darkly. “Be nice or I’ll forget I promised her that I wouldn’t run you through until after she’s conducted her investigation.”

  “Until after we find out if he’s guilty.” Grace corrected.

  “I never promised that.”

  “What investigation?” Edward demanded. “What the hell do you think you’re…?”

  “We know you were sleeping with Lucinda Wentworth and now she’s dead.” Grace interrupted. “I think there are a lot of people in this town who’d be interested to know about your affair with her.”

  Ned’s eyes widened. “Who told you that? Riordan? It’s all a lie! All of it!”

  “Lucinda wrote all the juicy details of your encounters in her diary, which I now have. So I suggest you start cooperating.”

  His face flushed an angry red. “Fine. Say I was meeting her on the side.” He whispered fiercely. “What would killing her accomplish? You think I wanted to lose a woman who looked like that? One who was willing to do the things she was willing to do? Why in the blue hell would I want to get rid of her?”

  That was actually a fair point. Grace looked over at Jamie.

  He shrugged. “Who’s to say why madmen do anything, love?”

  “You can’t prove I did anything.” Ned thundered. “Riordan is the one you should be questioning. He was the one who was seen around town with her, not me.”

  “I don’t have to prove you did anything.” Grace retorted. “I’m betting all I have to do is make copies of a few of the more salacious entries and it’ll ruin your life.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I especially enjoyed reading about the time you took Lucinda to the stables and used the riding crop and bridle to…”

  “What do you want?” Ned interrupted, his eyes frantically casting around.

  “I want to know what kind of bad intentions you have towards Anabel Maxwell.”

  The sidewalks were filling with people, all of them trying to figure out what was going on. Across the street, Clara Vance, Eugenia Wentworth, and Anabel Maxwell were standing in a group, all of them looking appalled.

  Anabel gasped, one hand dramatically covering her heart. “Why would you have bad intentions towards me, Mr. Hunnicutt? Why my family’s lineage and reputation are above reproach.”

  “Your idiot brother was the Hero of Yorktown and cost Great Britain the War!”

  Jamie’s eyes lit up in triumph. “I told you Ned was a Tory, Grace!” He couldn’t have been more thrilled with the results of their questioning. “I knew it!” He paused. “Although, that lack-wit Gregory Maxwell was no more a hero than he is a duck.”

  “The War is over!” Edward bellowed. “It doesn’t matter which nation I fucking supported.”

  Lucinda’s sister fanned herself, looking faint. “Language, gentlemen. There are ladies present.”

  Jamie instantly tipped his hat at her. “Apologies, Miss Eugenia.”

  She gave a prudish sniff, but inclined her head in ladylike forgiveness. “I should say so, Captain Riordan.” Apparently the rumors of her “fainting when she saw Jamie in the streets” were exaggerated. If Eugenia thought he murdered her sister, she was a master at hiding it under polite censure.

  In any case, Grace hoped she didn’t sound that prissy when she was scolding Jamie about his nonstop cursing. “You never apologize to me for swearing.” She hissed at him.

  “You’re not a pinched-lipped Sunday school teacher, as that girl is.” He edged away from Eugenia as she crossed the street to get a better (disapproving) look at the chaos. “Never did meet a pinch-lipped Sunday school teacher who wasn’t terrifying.”

  “I’ve taught Sunday school, Jamie.”

  He grinned at her. “But your soft lips are anything but pinched, lass. I can testify to that, firsthand.”

  “This is all ridiculous.” Ned sputtered. “Aside from disliking her jackass brother, I have no bad intentions towards Miss Maxwell or any other lady of this town.” His face darkened with sudden and ill-advised hatred. “Except for my bitch of a sister-in-law.”

  The residents of Harrisonburg began murmuring amongst themselves.

  Jamie’s eyebrows shot up. “Aggie?”

  “Me?” A redheaded woman blurted out. “How am I involved in this foolishness?”

  “You bought my shop for half of what it was worth!” He roared.

  “I paid the price you asked, Ned! It’s not my fault that you’re a poor excuse for a businessman.”

  “My damnably stupid wife might buy your shit, Agatha, but I know better! I still remember how you wouldn’t dance with me at my wedding.”

  “Agatha?” Grace glanced back towards the Crystal Ball a horrible suspicion filling her. Loyal was really, really bad with names… “Oh no.”

  “Because you’d just taken my sister as your wife, but you were trying to feel under my skirts, you pig!” The woman, who had to be his sister-in-law Agatha Northhandler, waved a disgusted hand at him. “I told Sarah not to marry you.”

  “Aggie raises the prices at shop, every time I need muslin.” Someone in the crowd called out. “All she cares about is money!”

  “She took my seat in church last Sunday.” Another woman cried. “I had to stand and she knows that my shoes are too small! She’s the one who sold them to me.”

  Grace squeezed her eyes shut, knowing it was just as she feared. Loyal had cast the spell using the wrong name. Bad intentions towards Anabel weren’t being revealed. Instead they were about to hear from everyone with a grudge against Miss Agatha Northhander. It was like watching the Boston Massacre begin all around her.

  “Aggie Northhander was mean to my dog.” A man cried, looking close to tears. “Threw a rock at Old Revere back in ’84. She’s a violent witch.”

  “Witch!” Clara Vance screeched, pointing a finger at Agatha like she was auditioning for a community theater production of The Crucible. “She’s a witch!”

  Eugenia staggered against Jamie in a swoon, so maybe there was a kernel of truth about her tendency towards genteel vapors. Sadly Grace had no choice but to stay conscious and deal with this mess.

  Jamie steadied Eugenia flailing form and sent Grace a mystified look. “Is this your doing, lass?”

  “No!” She paused and made a face. “Well, sort of. Mostly, it’s Loyal’s fault, though. I told him spells never work.”

  Agatha did not appreciate the whole town turning against her. “I’m not a witch, Clara Vance!” She yelled, seizing on the last complaint. Aggie was a sturdy woman, with a pugnacious face and large hands. She stalked towards the Reverend’s daughter with an angry frown, clearly deciding to settle the argument with bloodshed rather than thoughtful discussion. “You take it back!”

  Yeah… This wasn’t going to end well. Grace moved to intercede, hoping to stop the fight she saw brewing. “Why don’t we all calm down?”

  Everyone ignored her.

  Clara Vance was half Agatha’s size, but buoyed by her own sense of moral superiority. She didn’t retreat as the larger woman bore down on her. “I won’t take it back!” She exclaimed righteously.

  Crap. Grace tried to get between them. “This isn’t going to resolv
e anything.”

  “Grace donea interfere with them.” Jamie worked to extricate himself from Eugenia’s flopping appendages. “It will do no good.”

  “Only the Lord can cleanse our town.” Clara proclaimed, dramatically spreading her arms. She had dark hair, round spectacles, and the kind of voice that was always shouting out answers in class. “Because you are a witch, Aggie Northhandler! There are evil forces at work in this town. I’ve told my father and he’s going to pray for…”

  Agatha swung at fist at her preachy face. Clara’s shrieked and ducked to the side. Instead of pounding Little Miss Inquisition, Aggie struck poor Anabel Maxwell, who was still standing beside Clara, knocking the hideous wig right off her crew-cut head. Anabel’s horse-y snout exploded in a red fountain as cartilage cracked.

  Blood splattered all over Clara and Grace.

  Anabel wailed in pain and panic, clutching her broken nose. Yeah, that was going to leave a mark. Too bad plastic surgery was still a long way off, because her schnoz was seriously not going to heal straight without some help.

  Clara frantically wiped at the blood on her dress. “Eww!”

  Aggie gave a smug nod, not even caring she’d just beat up the wrong girl. “Serves you all right!” She shouted at the bystanders.

  Jamie shoved Eugenia aside and ran for Grace.

  It was too late. Grace stared down at the gory spatter covering her hands and winced. Anabel’s blood had touched her. She had just enough time to look back up at Jamie and see horror cross his face.

  He seemed to realize what was about to happen. “Grace, no!” He bellowed. “Donea…”

  She vanished before she could hear him beg her not to leave.

  Chapter Fourteen

  June 26, 1789- All I can say is that HC can use a riding crop and bridal in ways no stable boy ever dreamed!

  From the Journal of Miss Lucinda Wentworth

  “And so Jamie Riordan was the biggest jackass to ever show his too-handsome face in our town.” Grace concluded with a nod. “Any questions?”