“Are you sure you’re okay?” he said, real concern in his eyes.
I nodded, warmed by evidence that he really cared. He stroked my cheek lightly with his bent forefinger.
“Hey, I’m sorry about the laughing thing,” he told me quickly. “That was just crazy. I really couldn’t stop.”
Jill looked up the stairway at us and heard that last remark.
“You know what that means, don’t you?” she told him from below. “Subconsciously, you can’t face your deepest emotions. You feel things for Mele you don’t dare express aloud and so it comes out in hysterical laughter.”
“Right.” He gave me a sideways grin. “Dr. Jill with the latest in psychotherapy.”
“I’m just sayin’!”
He and I grinned at each other and we started down the stairs. He held my hand, our fingers linked.
“Want to go for Italian tonight?” he asked as we reached the first floor.
I wanted to say yes, but I remembered little Mandy and reluctantly shook my head. “I’ve got some things I have to do tonight,” I told him.
He looked like he was about to say something, but in the end he shrugged and turned to smile at Jill. “This is some creepy old house, isn’t it?” he said, looking around.
“It was beautiful once,” I said defensively. “Look at this.” I dug into my shoulder bag and pulled out some old file photos I’d found from fifty years ago.
“Wow. I guess the old lady did look pretty good in her youth.”
“Hah,” Jill scoffed. “Don’t we all?”
We started walking toward the library where he was going to take our statements.
“Did Celinda get back yet?” I asked him.
“Yeah. She showed up. She’s pretty broken up about her husband being murdered, of course.”
“Well, yeah. That’s only natural.” I sighed, feeling sorry for her again. “I guess we’d better go over and give our condolences before we head home.”
“There’s a doctor with her right now. They’re calming her down. You might want to wait a bit.”
I hesitated, but then decided to go ahead. It would all come out eventually anyway.
“Did anyone tell you that her husband thought he was the legal heir to this house? From what Celinda told me, I guess that’s why they originally moved in next door.”
Roy turned to look at me harder. He squinted a bit. “No. I hadn’t heard that.” He grimaced, looking wary. “You’re not going to get involved….”
“Absolutely not,” I said before he could even get all the words out. “I am going to have nothing to do with this situation. It’s none of my business.”
He looked relieved. “Exactly. Stay away.”
I nodded. That was just what I intended to do. His cell phone buzzed and he took it out and glanced at the screen.
“Uh oh. I’ve got to go back over.” He looked up. “Can you two come in to the station this afternoon to give your statements?”
“Sure. What time?”
“How about three o’clock?”
We looked at each other and both nodded. “Okay.”
With a casual wink, he was gone. I looked at Jill. She looked at me. I sighed.
“Does it occur to you that he is awfully casual about how things might be between the two of us?” I asked her. “Or am I beginning to obsess too much?”
She took in a long breath before answering. “I think he’s not ready for a serious commitment. At least, that’s the way it looks on the outside.” She raised one eyebrow. “The question is, are you ready? And do you really care if he’s not anxious to make things more permanent? I mean, I don’t get the vibe from you that says, ‘Hey guy, marry me or lose me forever’.”
I shrugged. She had a point there, but I wasn’t sure I liked it. “Maybe you’re right,” I said.
We went out to the car. “What did you think of the place?” I asked, looking back at the big old beautiful house.
“It would make a great historical museum,” she said. “Can you imagine what this place would look like fixed up 1890’s style? The Gilded Age returns. I think you should recommend the city restore it.”
“You do?” That boosted my spirits a bit. I started to get into the car, then realized I was missing something.
“Oops, I left my journal in the house,” I said, throwing my shoulder bag behind my seat and turning back to run up the steps. “Be right back.”
“Do you remember where you left it?” she called after me.
“Yes, it’s in the kitchen. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
The minute I stepped through the front doorway, I knew this was a mistake. The atmosphere had changed completely.
I should have expected that, but I didn’t think it would take more than a few seconds to run into the kitchen and get my journal and get out of there. I hadn’t counted on just how calculated ghosts could be.
I tried to hurry through the entryway and into the living room, but cold air was swirling through those rooms like an arctic storm—and then the whispering began. There was such a sense of angry presence. I felt very much alone.
Who were these creatures?
What were they waiting for?
What were they doing here?
I had the impression there was something unsettled about their deaths, but that might just have been because I’d always heard ghosts stayed around to take care of unfinished business from their lives. But was that really true? I supposed I could try asking Aunty Jane at some point, But I didn’t trust that what I got from her would be true—or even have anything to do with what I asked her!
The whispering quickly got louder, more intense. At first I couldn’t make out what the voices were saying. There was more moaning than talking, more spine-chilling than informational, more mood altering than anything else. I gritted my teeth and fought my way to the kitchen like Captain Peary slogging toward the North Pole. My teeth were chattering—not sure if that was from the cold or from fear that was now running through my system like a malignant shot of adrenalin.
I fell against the kitchen door and shoved it open, then almost fell again when it gave way and sent me reeling into the room. There was my notebook on the table by the old radio. I tried to move in that direction, but the room seemed to tilt and suddenly a loud crash let me know that both doors had slammed shut, and as I looked back wildly, I could see the lock moving. They were locking me in!
The voices were coming louder now, and I could almost make out what they were saying.
“Back.….back. Back……back.”
Go back? Leave out the back? I couldn’t quite get it. What did they want from me? Panic was rising in my chest. Fear wasn’t far behind.
Then it was clear. A loud and sinister voice screamed, “Bring her back. She belongs here. Bring her back.”
Mandy. Of course. They were angry that I’d taken Mandy.
I was shaking like a leaf, but I managed to grab my notebook and clutch it to my chest, then turned and called back, “You were mean to her. She doesn’t want to come back.”
“Back! She must come back!”
The room was tilting back and forth but I made my way back to the door to the living room. I felt like I was on skates, sliding and tilting—but I reached the door. Just as I feared, it was locked.
Locked! I banged on it and rattled the knob and pulled against it, almost sobbing with the effort. Could I kick a door open like they did in the movies? Not with these soft shoes. What was I going to do? How was I going to get out of here? Real panic was shaking me to the core.
I looked around for something heavy to use. I was ready to break a hole in the door if I could. I had to get out of there!
“Back! She must come back,” the voice shrieked.
I whirled, trying to guess where the voice was coming from. “They can’t hurt you,” I kept whispering to myself over and over. “They’re just ghosts. They can’t really hurt you.”
No, they couldn’t reach out a
nd touch me, at least I didn’t think they could. But they could make things fall on me. All of a sudden, a heavy cast iron pot sitting on a shelf broke loose and shot across the room, barely missing me. There were just too many things that could happen to me here. I had to get out.
I attacked the door again, trying to turn the locked knob, trying to claw my way out. The shrieking voice kept on shrieking. I was holding back panic, on the edge of screaming myself. And how would that do me any good?
I turned and looked around the room again. “Let me go!” I yelled with all my might. “How can I bring anything back if you won’t let me go?”
There was a loud, low groan, as though something very bad had found it’s way from somewhere dark and hidden and filled with hate--weird enough to make me gasp-- and then the lock turned on the door handle. I jumped for it, turning the knob all the way and this time, the door opened for me.
I was out of there like a shot, racing to the front door, slipping and almost falling, but catching my balance in time. I threw myself out the door, then turned and locked it tightly once I’d escaped. Still shaking badly, I stumbled my way to the car.
“Hey, what took you so long? Did you find your….?” Jill looked up and saw me and clamped her hand over her mouth in shock. “Mele! What happened to you? The ghosts, right? They were back!”
I dropped into the car seat and leaned back, catching my breath. “Yes,” I said haltingly. “Yes. Wow. I’m really glad you weren’t there with me.”
“But when I went in with you, they stayed hidden.”
I nodded. “But they were really worked up. I don’t think they would have held back for anyone this time.”
She leaned over, studying my face. “What was it?” she asked softly. “What were they trying to do to you?”
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and shook my head. “Let’s get out of here,” I said. “I’ll tell you about it as we go.”
I started to back out of the driveway, looking toward Celinda’s big old Craftsman next door. The police cars were still there, but the paramedics had taken the body away. A long dark sedan had just pulled up. And out of it stepped my boss, the impaler himself.
I stopped the car and gaped at him. At first I assumed he’d come to check up on what I was doing and had pulled into the wrong driveway. But no. He was definitely on his way into Celinda’s house. I wasn’t sure what to make of that one.
“Hey,” Jill said. “Isn’t that…?”
“Yeah, it is,” I responded, finally beginning to get my heart rate back down to something close to normal. “I wonder what he’s doing over there?”
“Maybe he was a friend of Celinda’s husband.”
“Maybe so.” I shrugged, not really all that interested. At this point, I just wanted to go. I drove out of the neighborhood, then gave Jill a quick description of the scene I’d fought my way through inside the house, leaving out what they were yelling at me about.
“Wow, I should have gone back in with you,” she said stoutly.
I pulled up in front of Mad For Mocha and sighed, looking at her affectionately. “Maybe that would have kept it from happening,” I agreed. “Okay, from now on, I’m never going in alone. Never.”
She gave my arm a squeeze. “Tell you what. Get your boss to give that job to someone else. Tell him you’re allergic to the plants on that lot. Anything—just get out of having to go there.”
“Good idea,” I told her, though I knew I wasn’t going to follow up on it. Good old Vlad was just looking for an excuse to let me go and hire his niece in my place. I was going to have to think of some other solution.
I left Jill at the Mocha and headed home. It was well past noon by now and I was hoping to catch Bebe and find out how things had gone with the babysitting experience.
“It’s kind of weird,” she said when I found her in the back bedroom. “You know, I can sort of feel her. I can feel emotions, feel vibes. And every now and then I think I can catch sight of something….I can’t really describe it.” She flopped down on the bed beside where Mandy was curled up. “I wish I could see her,” Bebe said softly, her voice heavy with longing.
Mandy smiled and moved over to curl up against Bebe. My breath caught in my throat as I watched. Bebe closed her eyes and let her head fall back. Mandy’s little arms came around her and she held on tightly.
“She’s cuddled up against you right now,” I whispered.
Bebe nodded, her eyes still closed. “I can almost feel her,” she whispered back. “Sweet baby.”
I slipped away and went out back to see if I could find Aunty Jane, hoping to get her take on what had happened at the house. I searched up and down the rows of brightly blooming flowers, enjoying the colors and the scents, but I couldn’t find her. The parrot yelled at me, and I called a few insults back at him, and went back into the kitchen. Normally, Bebe would have been there, making me lunch and chattering about her day and all the work she had to do that afternoon.
But Bebe was taking care of Mandy. Taking care of a ghost she couldn’t see. If only I’d had more time, I would have searched harder for Aunty Jane. She was going to have to do something about this—but I didn’t for the life of me know what.
I went back to the bedroom to give Bebe the lowdown on Jerry Moore’s murder. She’d already heard about it from a friend, but was shocked to find out I was in any way involved.
“Stay out of it,” was her advice, and I knew it was tinged with the fact that she didn’t want me to have to deal with the captain.
“And by the way, you’ve had a couple of calls from people wondering how things are coming with the Wine Festival planning. Maybe you ought to give them a call. I put their numbers by the kitchen phone.”
“Okay.” I sighed, knowing I just wasn’t going to have time to deal with that now. I had to gear up for the law enforcement interview I had coming up. Once I got past that, I would think about the rest of my life.
I had a piece of cheese and a cup of coffee, said goodbye and headed out.
I dropped by Mad for Mocha and parked there. Jill came out and we walked over to the station together. It was a lovely fall day and the breeze off the ocean countered the afternoon heat, making it perfect.
“This is glorious,” Jill said, reacting to the weather. She fluffed out her skirt and smiled as she lifted her face to the sunshine. “Don’t you just love living here in North Destiny Bay?”
Did I? That was not such an easy one to answer. True, the weather couldn’t be beat. It was hardly ever too cold, hardly ever too hot. And the sun shone almost daily, making you smile even if you didn’t want to. But there were things here that chipped away at the perfection of it all. First among them—the ghosts. Then there were all these murders that kept landing on my doorstep.
But I didn’t want to rain on Jill’s parade.
“I do love it here,” I said, and realized I probably meant it just as I said it. “But you’ve got to remember—I grew up in Hawaii. Paradise. You’ve got to walk an extra mile to get better than that.”
“Uh huh,” she said. “Then how come you’re still here?”
Good question. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. I gave her a sideways grin. “But the fact that my best friend just happens to live here might have something to do with it.”
She beamed at me. “Good answer, sweetie! For that, you get extra chocolate in your mocha when we get back.”
Then she sobered a bit. “What do you think Roy will be asking when we give our statements?”
I shrugged. “The usual I guess. What did we see and when did we see it? What do we know? What do we think? Then a nice thank you for your service to your community, and a ‘So long, see you next murder’.”
“You really think it will be that simple?”
“Let’s hope so.”
We walked up to the front of the station and turned into the building, and suddenly there was Tom Hatchett, a bit wild–eyed, trapping me between the newsstand and the elevators.
/> “I need to talk to you,” he said in a whispering raspy voice. “I need to know…”
“No!” I said, raising my hands as though to defend myself and backing away from him. “I’m here to give my statement. That’s all. I don’t want to talk.”
His eyes looked a little crazed. “I need to know….”
“No.” I shook my head emphatically and skirted the man, heading for the reception area. “Leave us alone.”
Jill stuck with me and we left the man behind.
“What a weirdo,” she whispered, looking at me sideways.
I nodded. “Scary,” I supplied, then we slipped into the office and went straight to the woman at the desk for instructions.
She looked down on a list. “Miss Jill DeJong?” she said. “You’re to go to room 6. Detective McKnight will take your statement.” She looked up at me. “Miss Mele Keahi? Captain Stone will see you in room 8. Just down the hall.”
I groaned. Why me? Why couldn’t I see Roy and at least know that the person taking my statement believed what I said? But it was not to be. Resigned, I walked down the hall like a condemned prisoner and knocked on door number eight.
“Come in,” he called.
I went in.
Chapter Seven
A half hour later, we were almost done. I didn’t have much to contribute. Captain Stone being the man he was, seemed to be a little suspicious about that. “Are you sure you have never met Jerry Moore?” he kept asking.
“If I ever did, it hasn’t stuck with me,” I said again and again.
He knew all about my reasons for knowing Celinda, and what I was doing in the house next door the day before the murder. He tried to wring me like a washcloth, always twisting to get something new, searching for an angle. But I had nothing for him.
“How well did you know the deceased?” he asked me sternly, acting as though he hadn’t asked me that very same question ten other ways already.
I sighed, but played along. “You mean Jerry Moore? Not at all. I never met him.”
He frowned as though he thought I was holding something back. “Are you sure?”
My smile was forced but necessary. “Of course I’m sure.”
Little Ghost Lost (Destiny Bay Cozy Mysteries Book 5) Page 6
