If You've Got It, Haunt It

by Rose Pressey

Wind Song stretched out on the counter, closed her eyes, and purred. Her tail moved slowly back and forth as her satisfaction grew.

  “I think she likes you,” I said.

  He smiled and for a moment his tough exterior broke. It was as if I’d gotten a glimpse of the man inside. But why was he in the shop again? My heart sped up. Had he somehow found out that I’d been to talk with Bud Butler?

  “What can I do for you, Detective?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  “He’s just poking around again, that’s all. He suspects you of something. I think it’s funny that he can’t figure it out.” Charlotte walked a complete circle around him.

  He looked as if he’d felt her presence, but he didn’t mention it. “I just stopped in as a follow-up. Don’t worry. It’s just routine.”

  “Why would I worry?” I tried to sound nonchalant.

  “Yes, well, I just wanted to know if you’d remembered anything about the other day when you discovered the body. Sometimes a couple days pass and a person’s memory is sparked.”

  I shut my laptop. “I wish I could help you, but I don’t have any other details.”

  He stepped aside uncomfortably.

  I saw that Charlotte was touching his arm and scowled.

  He noticed my expression, probably thinking again that I was slightly kooky. “Well, thank-you for everything. You know how to find me if you think of anything.”

  I threw my hand up in a wave. “I’ll make sure to call you if I think of anything.”

  The bell above the door jingled as he left.

  “He thinks I’m kooky,” I said when he’d walked out the door.

  “Don’t worry about what he thinks. All guys are jerks, anyway.” Charlotte had soured on the male species since watching her boyfriend flirt with me. But why did Dylan keep coming around?

  Chapter 20

  Heather’s Heartfelt Tip for Getting Rid of an Unwanted Ghost

  Become an annoying roommate.

  A ghost probably won’t hang around if you crank up

  the speakers and sing along as loud as you can.

  After closing the shop, I pointed the car in the direction of Cindy Johnson’s house.

  Since Cindy had talked with the private investigator at the meeting the night before he died and had acted as if she knew him quite well, I decided to ask her what she knew about him.

  “Are you going to tell me what your falling out with Cindy was about? It can’t just be because of the charity.” As I navigated the car down the road. I pulled down the visors against the glare of the bright, late-afternoon sun.

  My ghostly passenger stared straight ahead. “Oh, I guess it’s not important.”

  “Not important? How can you say that? She was talking with the private eye who was asking about you. You added her to your list, you know. I think sharing the story is a little pertinent.”

  She shifted in the seat. We were leaving the downtown area, approaching the gracious old neighborhood of Shady Elms. Streets were wide and tree-lined, and multi-story homes set back on spacious lots.

  “Marie told me that Cindy was being accused of stealing money from the charity, so I poked around and found proof,” Charlotte said.

  “How did you find the proof?” I asked.

  “Let’s just say I was in her house.”

  I was completely intrigued.

  We pulled up in front of Cindy’s house and I hopped out. The white two-story Georgian was surrounded by a white picket fence. Flowers spilled out from the window boxes and daffodils lined the front path. Cindy had gotten the house in the divorce. I’d heard she’d tossed her ex-husband’s belongings out onto the street. Cindy and her ex had a daughter in college. I wondered how often the girl came home for a visit. I rang the doorbell and waited.

  Luckily, within a few seconds, Cindy opened the door. “Oh, hello.” Her eyes opened wide. “I wasn’t expecting you. Is everything okay?”

  I’d never been to Cindy’s home before, so I could understand why she was surprised to see me.

  She wore a casual pair of beige linen trousers and a lovely aqua-colored silk blouse. The color brought out the blue in her eyes. I’d seen the blouse in the window of the clothing boutique down the street from mine.

  “I hope I didn’t come at a bad time.” I smiled.

  “Um, no, I guess not. Would you like to come in?” she asked hesitantly. She tucked a strand of her blond hair behind her ear.

  “She’s acting suspicious already,” Charlotte said from behind me.

  Cindy was acting a bit strange, but I wasn’t ready to call her the killer just yet. As I stepped into the room, she picked up pages from the newspaper strewn around the coffee table and gestured for me to have a seat. I eased down onto a yellow plaid chesterfield sofa, hoping that this visit went better than the one with Bud.

  She twirled a large topaz ring around her finger but didn’t say anything. Apparently, she was waiting for me to speak first.

  I cleared my throat and asked, “I guess you’re wondering why I’m here.”

  She eased down onto the yellow upholstered chair beside the sofa. “The thought had crossed my mind. Does it have something to do with the committee?”

  I leaned forward on the sofa. “No, I want to ask you about Charlotte Meadows. You knew her, right? She was the Sugar Creek woman who was murdered recently.”

  Cindy straightened in her seat and her expression stiffened. “Yes, I knew her. Why do you ask?”

  I had to think of something quickly.

  “Tell her we were friends. She won’t know the difference,” Charlotte said.

  After a pause, I said, “We were friends.”

  Cindy had a surprised expression. “Oh. Well, what did you want to ask me?”

  “I saw you talking with the private investigator. You do know that he was murdered, too, right?” I searched her face for a reaction.

  Her expression turned bleak. “Yes, I’m aware of that.” She shifted in her seat as if the mere mention of what had happened made her want to get up and run away.

  “I saw you speaking with him at the meeting. What did he want?”

  Cindy frowned. “He was just asking me about Charlotte’s murder.”

  “What did he ask?” I pressed.

  Her expression turned more frustrated. She looked as if she was searching for just the right words. I knew by her reaction that no matter what she said, I wouldn’t believe her.

  “He asked me if I knew her. That’s all.” She twisted a strand of hair around her index finger.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him that I knew her from the charity, and nothing more.” She spoke with a quiet certainty.

  “Why do you think he was looking for information about Charlotte?” I asked.

  “She’s being awfully hostile,” Charlotte’s expression was shadowed with suspicion. “But then again, that’s nothing new for Cindy.”

  “How should I know? Charlotte Meadows was probably into some shady business and now someone wants to collect money from her estate.” Cindy’s full lips thinned in frustration.

  “Why, if I wasn’t a ghost I would snatch her hair out. Let me at her.” Charlotte stepped over to Cindy and swung a punch, then another. Fortunately, she was a ghost and nothing was making contact.

  Every time Charlotte punched, Cindy frowned and looked around. I was sure she was sensing something.

  Charlotte stopped swinging punches through the air long enough to say, “Cookie, get over here and punch this woman right now.”

  My patience was fading. I couldn’t tell Charlotte that she needed to calm down, so my expressions would have to do.

  “Do you feel something strange in the air?” Cindy rubbed her arms as if fending off a cold chill.

  “No, I don’t feel anything. Are you okay?” I wondered if she sensed my uneasiness.

  Cindy tried to smile, but it fell flat. “I guess the air conditioner is set at the wrong temperature. I felt a chill.”


  “It seems a little hot in here to me.”

  Charlotte flashed a smug smile. At least she’d calmed down for the time being.

  Cindy turned and looked in the general direction where Charlotte stood. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at Charlotte or if she was looking out the big front window.

  Cindy jumped up. “I forgot something in the kitchen.” She hurried out of the room.

  Charlotte sat on the arm of the sofa. “What did I tell you? That woman is wacky.”

  I leaned over and tried to peek into the kitchen to see what she was up to. “I don’t see her,” I whispered.

  Several minutes passed and Cindy hadn’t returned. I looked around the room. Her bookcases were full of historical fiction. I spotted a tattered old volume of Gone With the Wind and opened it. To my surprise, it was from the first printing—a real collectible. “What is she doing?” Charlotte asked.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered. “But I’m going to find her.” I stepped through the small hallway, through the dining room, and into the kitchen. It was silent except for the faint ticking of a clock hanging next to the bay window.

  Charlotte walked right behind me as I looked around. The space was immaculately clean. It didn’t look as if Cindy had forgotten anything on the stove, but the back door was open a little. “I think she left.” I looked at Charlotte.

  “I don’t see hide nor hair of her,” Charlotte agreed.

  “Do you think she saw you?” I asked.

  Charlotte leaned down and studied a framed photo of Cindy wearing a hoop skirt at last year’s Spring Fling. “I think she’s just crazy.”

  I knew Cindy wasn’t in another area of the house because she had to pass through the living room to get to any of the other rooms. Maybe she had just stepped outside for some fresh air, but why hadn’t she said so? Why leave me alone in her house? I stepped over to the back door and looked out. Cindy’s car, a white Toyota Avalon, was gone. It had been in the driveway when I parked mine.

  What kind of mess had I gotten myself into? Just when I thought things couldn’t get any stranger, a car door slammed at the front of the house. Charlotte and I moved forward at the same time.

  “Maybe it’s Cindy,” I said.

  We hurried across the kitchen floor, made our way through the dining room, and to the window in the living room. A man was walking up the sidewalk, all businesslike.

  I didn’t recognize him. “Someone’s coming,”

  Charlotte peeked out. “He’s coming to the door.”

  A black sedan was parked along the curb, and I knew we were in trouble.

  The tall, lanky man wearing a brown suit seemed intent on carrying out his mission—whatever that was. He pounded on the door and rattled the knob as if he was trying to break the door down.

  Charlotte and I exchanged another panicked look. I wasn’t sure why she was worried—she was already dead. I was the one who had to worry about being harmed or even murdered.

  “Let’s get out of here.” I raced toward the kitchen so I could slip out the back.

  I’d almost reached the door when another man popped up. He had dark hair and wore a suit like his companion, but he was stocky. Thank goodness he didn’t see me. I had to stop myself from letting out a loud scream. I ran back toward the living room, but the first man was still pounding on the door.

  “Go in the bedroom and hide,” Charlotte ordered.

  I ran down the hallway and turned into the first bedroom on the right. As quietly as I could, I shut the door and wove around the cherry bed to the closet. How would I explain to Cindy if she found me hiding in her closet? But she had a lot of explaining to do—like why she’d taken off and left me in her home, and who were the men trying to break in.

  I tried to slow my breathing as I stood in the pitch-black closet. Hangers and what I hoped was a fur coat hung in my face.

  “I can’t believe the size of this closet. It’s so small,” Charlotte whispered.

  I clutched my chest. “Don’t do that to me.”

  A loud crash rang out and I knew that meant only one thing—the men had entered the home.

  Chapter 21

  Cookie’s Savvy Vintage Fashion Shopping Tip

  Don’t be afraid to try fashion from different eras.

  You might be surprised which ones are your favorites.

  My heart raced. I tried not to move an inch so that I wouldn’t make a noise. If they heard me and discovered I was hiding in the closet, I’d be toast.

  The men’s voices carried down the hall, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  Their footsteps echoed around the house and I heard a lot of crashing noises. They were definitely looking for something.

  When I heard footsteps enter the bedroom, I held my breath. Of course, that only lasted a few minutes before I had to exhale. Could they hear my breathing?

  It sounded as if they were pulling out drawers, and I realized that they would most likely open the closet door, too. Would I be able to get past them and run away? I wasn’t sure I was willing to give that plan a shot. I’d have to come up with something else.

  I moved to my left and hid behind some clothing. Footsteps sounded in front of the closet and then stopped. I held my breath and waited for the door to open, but it never happened. A few more seconds passed and the footsteps sounded as if the men were walking down the hallway. Had they really left? I’d seen that trick in the past. Just as I thought they’d left, I’d open the door only to discover that they were still standing right in front of me. But what other option did I have? I couldn’t stay in the closet all day.

  I moved to my right and fumbled in the dark for the doorknob. After finding my way, I twisted the knob and eased the door open. I peeked out and looked around. No one was in the room. I couldn’t understand why the intruders hadn’t opened the closet door. I didn’t want to have a false sense of security as I eased out of the small closet, wondering if the men would grab me as soon as I stepped out of the room. Where was Charlotte? She didn’t follow me out of the closet. I tiptoed across the room.

  With my heart hammering, I slowly opened the bedroom door. I poked my head out, but didn’t see her. Thank goodness the men were nowhere in sight. Mustering as much courage as I could find, I moved down the hall. At any moment, the men could pop up in front of me. I didn’t know what I would do if that happened.

  Turning the corner, I saw Charlotte standing in the living room. “Where have you been?”

  “I wanted to see what the men were doing,” she said.

  “What did you find out?”

  “Unfortunately, not much. They seemed to be looking for something.”

  “Do you think they were looking for me?” I was almost afraid to think about what would have happened if they’d found me.

  “Why would they be looking for you in Cindy’s house?” Charlotte asked.

  “Maybe they saw me,” I said.

  She peered around the corner into the kitchen. “I think they were looking for Cindy or something that Cindy has.”

  My eyes widened. “Do you think so?”

  She nodded. “They were opening drawers and stuff, so that tells me they were looking for something.”

  “Well, at least they weren’t looking for me. Let’s get out of here before they come back.” Had the men seen my Buick parked in front of Cindy’s house? I was ready to get out of there when something registered in my mind.

  “What?” Charlotte asked when she noticed that I had stopped moving.

  “Cindy’s computer was on in the sitting room off the bedroom,” I said.

  Charlotte quirked an eyebrow. “You’re not thinking about checking her computer, are you? We don’t have time.”

  “Well, the men are gone now.” I peeked out the window again. The dark sedan was nowhere to be seen.

  “What if they come back?” Charlotte asked.

  “They think Cindy isn’t here, so they probably won’t come right back. We can hurry in, check out t
he computer, and get out before anyone comes back. If Cindy comes back, well, I’ll just sit in here. She’ll think I never left.” I smiled.

  “Well then, let’s do it.” Charlotte winked as if giving me permission to proceed.

  I tiptoed across the room as if someone would actually hear me. I looked to my left and right for any sign of the men. I was scared, of course, but if I wanted to figure out any clues it was something I had to do. We made it back down the hallway and stepped into the bedroom.

  “Okay. Just do this.” Charlotte pointed toward the computer that sat on a desk in the corner of the room.

  The screensaver was frozen, but I tapped the keyboard, and the screen lit up. A little box popped up wanting the password.

  “Okay. Let’s go.” Charlotte motioned.

  “No, no. Wait. Maybe I can figure out the password,” I said.

  “How will you ever do that?” she asked.

  “Maybe Cindy used a word that I can guess.”

  Charlotte scoffed. “Yeah, fat chance of that happening.”

  I typed in a couple words, but nothing happened. Charlotte tapped her foot impatiently.

  “What is her cat’s name?” I pointed at the photo on the desk of Cindy holding a cat in her arms.

  Charlotte tapped her finger against her chin. “Let me see. What was the name of her cat? Buttons.” She shook her head. “No. Boots? No, that’s not it. I got it. The name was Marmalade.”

  “That’s a far cry from Buttons or Boots, Charlotte,” I said.

  She drummed her fingers on the desk. “Just enter it in and see what happens.”

  I typed in the word and hit enter. The screen changed.

  “Bingo. People really shouldn’t use their pet’s names as passwords.” Before I had a chance to look at anything on the computer, a screen for a video chat popped up. This wasn’t good.

  “Quick, turn it off.” Charlotte waved her hands. “Before something else happens.”

  I reached down to click it off, but I hit the wrong button. I was experienced with computers, so why was I having such a hard time? I guessed my nerves were making me clumsy. Sweat had broken out on my forehead and it felt as if I’d stuffed a bag of cotton into my mouth.