Big Ghosts Don’t Cry
A Beechwood Harbor Ghost Mystery
Danielle Garrett
Copyright © 2019 by Danielle Garrett
Edited by Magical Words Edits
Cover Design by Alchemy Book Covers
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
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Contents
Books By Danielle Garrett
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Also by Danielle Garrett
About the Author
Books By Danielle Garrett
BEECHWOOD HARBOR MAGIC MYSTERIES
Murder’s a Witch
Twice the Witch
Witch Slapped
Witch Way Home
Along Came a Ghost
Lucky Witch
Betwixt: A Beechwood Harbor Collection
One Bad Witch
A Royal Witch
First Place Witch
BEECHWOOR HARBOR GHOST MYSTERIES
The Ghost Hunter Next Door
Ghosts Gone Wild
When Good Ghosts Get the Blues
Big Ghosts Don’t Cry
Diamonds Are a Ghost’s Best Friend
Ghosts Just Wanna Have Fun
HAVEN PARANORMAL ROMANCES
Once Upon a Hallow’s Eve
A TOUCH OF MAGIC MYSTERIES
Cupid in a Bottle
Newly Wed and Slightly Dead
Couture and Curses
Wedding Bells and Deadly Spells
Introduction
Fresh off my Voodoo-tastic vacation to New Orleans, I find myself presented with the first test of my newly discovered magic. There’s been a murder in the neighboring town of Pine Shoals and the victim has decided she’s not cut out for the spectral life and needs a gentle push into the Otherworld.
As it turns out, conjuring some magic and telling a ghost to ‘go towards the light’ isn’t quite good enough, and now the hysterical ghost is stuck in some kind of limbo land.
It’s up to me to solve her murder before the poor ghost goes insane—or, becomes demon food. Whichever happens first.
Reapers creepers.
Chapter 1
When you’re a ghost whisperer, friends don’t expect you to bring wine or a decorative candle to their housewarming party. Instead, they expect you to come prepared with a stockpile of sage, a five-pound bag of salt, and an iron poker. They will happily feed you appetizers in exchange for a thorough paranormal inspection and the subsequent exorcism of any wandering spirits.
Hey, it beats being asked to lug boxes around on moving day.
So, when my boyfriend, Lucas, invited me to come see his swanky new condo in downtown Seattle, I packed accordingly. He’d been moved in for a little over a week, but I hadn’t yet been able to make a getaway to see it in person. Seattle was a three-hour drive from Beechwood Harbor and required a little bit of planning, considering I owned and operated a flower shop.
“I came bearing gifts!” I announced, handing him the bag of salt when he opened the front door.
Laughing, he took it from me. “I thought you were kidding about this.”
“I like to come prepared,” I teased. “Aren’t you curious to see if you have any invisible roommates?”
He mulled it over as he opened the door and ushered me into the condo. The unit was in a swanky, high-end building with spectacular views of the city and waterfront. The corporate rental was only meant to be Lucas’s temporary digs until he could find his own permanent residence in the city. In the meantime, it was good to enjoy the high life.
“This view is ridiculous!” I exclaimed, stopping in front of the wall of ceiling-to-floor windows. In keeping with the condo’s minimalistic theme, there weren’t any window treatments. Nothing but sparkling skyline, glittering under the hazy moon.
“I’m not missing the two-star motels the studio used to put me up in, that’s for sure,” Lucas replied, crossing the room to stand beside me. He smiled at me and then looked out the window. “I’ve been to Seattle several times, but it looks different somehow.”
“Like home?” I ventured.
He looped an arm around my waist, drawing me closer. “It’s starting to feel that way,” he said, giving me a meaningful look.
“Oh! Speaking of, I come bearing gifts,” I said, reaching into the canvas bag slung across my chest. I pulled a gallon-size glass jug out and presented it to Lucas. “A growler of that beer you like at McNally’s.”
With a wiggle of his brow, he took the large bottle. “Now it’s a party.”
“And my shoulder is celebrating,” I teased. “Between the bag of salt and the growler, I got a mini workout in. Thank goodness this place has an elevator, or you’d have had to rescue me from the stairwell.”
Lucas laughed as he carried the growler to the kitchen. “You want some of this now?”
I shook my head, wandering around the large living room as he stepped out of sight. “I’ll get something at dinner.”
“I think we have just enough time for a tour before we go,” he said, closing the fridge. He spread his arms out as he rounded the marble-topped island and rejoined me in the living room. “First impressions? Besides the view. What do you think of the place?”
“I think it’s—”
Before I could answer, a trio of voices somewhere over my left shoulder all burst in with their opinions and I cringed.
“I think it’s wonderful!” Gwen gushed, floating a couple feet off the floor. “Scarlet, did you see the two sinks in the bathroom? You could move right in!”
“It’s all fun and games until the elevator goes out and you’re stuck walking up fourteen flights of stairs,” Flapjack, my deceased Himalayan cat added. “Not to mention the musty smell in the closet. I think someone must have kept a dead body in there. Or, maybe it’s still there, you know, behind the drywall!”
“Ew, Flapjack!” Gwen snapped. “Don’t be morbid!”
“Quite distasteful, Flapjack,” Hayward Kensington III chimed in. His Oxford accent emphasized his distaste of the grumpy cat’s commentary.
Across the living room, Lucas’s smile faltered. “Is it that bad? I mean, it’s a little cold. And the art isn’t really my taste, but—”
I laughed and took a step toward him. “No, no, it’s not the art. I like it.”
“Then why the hesitation—” He paused, one brow lifted. “They’re here, aren’t they?”
My nose wrinkled. “Maaaaybe?”
“Scar …” He threw his head back, pleading with the ceiling.
“I thought we’
d marked this as a one-on-one kind of thing,” he said, then glanced past me and quickly added, “No offense to any of you, of course.”
Flapjack scoffed. “The only thing I find offensive is the amount of hair products he keeps in that musty bathroom.”
Gwen giggled. “He clearly knows what he’s doing with all of it. Though I’d be willing to bet he looks just as good first thing in the morning. Tousled hair, pajama bottoms … no shirt—”
Beside her, Hayward cleared his throat. Loudly.
I sighed. “They wanted to come see the city and so, I kinda offered to let them tag along,” I said, ignoring the paranormal peanut gallery. “They’re not staying! I promise.”
Swiveling around, I shot Flapjack a meaningful glance. “In fact … I think they were just leaving, now that they’ve seen the place.”
“Mhmm.” Lucas didn’t look convinced.
I made an overly dramatic shoo’ing gesture at the ghostly trio. “Go on. See the sights, breathe in the smells.”
“Pike’s Market, here I come!” Flapjack said with glee. “That’s where they throw the fish,” he informed Hayward and Gwen.
I cringed. The fish market was likely already closed, but I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.
“We should be taking our leave as well,” Hayward said, holding his arm out for Gwen. “We’re having dinner aboard a cruise ship this evening.”
“And by having dinner he means watching other people eat while eavesdropping on their conversations,” Gwen explained in a conspiratorially whisper, as if Lucas might overhear her. Which, strictly speaking, wasn’t possible.
“Enjoy! See you in the morning. Not a minute before ten-thirty!” I called after the three ghosts as they floated back out the front door. “I’m putting up a salt ring, just in case.”
“You’d think a simple Do Not Disturb sign would do the trick,” Lucas said, coming to join me.
“Oh, to live in such a world,” I said, laughing.
He kissed me and I tasted the craft beer on his lips. “Someone had a sample,” I teased when we broke apart. “Did I get the right one?”
“It’s perfect. Thank you.” He smiled. “Why does it feel like longer than three weeks since the last time I saw you?”
“I was thinking the same thing during the drive,” I confessed. “New Orleans seems like it was a year ago, not a month.”
Lucas glanced down at the floor between us for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “How are you doing with everything?”
He wasn’t talking about business at my flower shop or life with my pack of ghosts. There was a deeper specificity to his question. One I wasn’t interested in discussing. At least, not tonight.
I smiled. “Things are good. I should have given you a head’s up about the gang tagging along. I guess I was kind of hoping they’d take a hint and slip out mid-tour.”
Lucas furrowed his brows as a slow smile tugged at his lips. “Really, Scar? I might not be able to hear them, but even I know there’s no way they’d leave voluntarily.”
I cringed. He was right, of course. The trio wasn’t exactly known for being respectful of our privacy. Now, with Lucas permanently stationed in Seattle, we’d need to establish some ground rules. Whether the ghosts agreed to them or not was a separate battle.
“It’s been hard for me to say no to them since we got back from New Orleans,” I told him. “I guess I still feel a little guilty over the way I treated them before leaving for the trip, especially when we both would have been in real trouble had they not come to the rescue.”
Lucas gave an understanding smile and brushed a loose strand of my copper-colored hair out of my face. “Fair enough. I’d probably still be sitting in a jail cell if it hadn’t been for them, and you.”
“And now look at you,” I said, gesturing at the large living space. “Living like a king!”
He laughed and captured one of my hands. “You should see my new office. Maybe next visit, you can meet me there.”
“Deal. Now, let’s talk about these dinner reservations you made. How fancy do I need to get?”
We were celebrating, his new job, his new condo, and his permanent move to Seattle. He’d made reservations as soon as he’d moved in and received his hire-on bonus with the international security firm. I wasn’t sure of the dollar amount, but judging on the rental they’d put him up in, the company wasn’t hurting for cash and was generous to its employees.
Forty-five minutes later, I was sufficiently dressed up enough to fit the dress code standards of the high-end restaurant Lucas had selected. He wore a three-piece suit—and looked darn good doing it—and as we walked to our table, I noticed more than a few pairs of female eyes turn toward him. I smiled to myself, thinking of Gwen’s reaction if she’d stuck around long enough to see us leave for dinner.
We were seated and within a few minutes, we’d ordered a bottle of wine and a round of appetizers.
The prices on the menu made my eyes bug out, but I held my tongue. It was Lucas’s night and this was how he wanted to celebrate. I’d grown up with money; extravagant dinners were nothing new to me. I had a handle on which fork to use for which course and knew the difference between a palate-cleansing sorbet and a true dessert by the time I was four. But I’d left that life behind—much to my parents’ chagrin—and rarely dipped a toe in the 24-karat-gold swimming pool of the rich and famous.
As we waited for our entrees, we nibbled on fondue and considered the interior of the restaurant. It was a beautiful building and everything from the linens to the art to the furnishings had been carefully selected to create an elegant, almost old-world atmosphere.
“So, you’ve told me the office is cool. What about the people? Your team?” I asked, pouring myself a little more wine.
“It’s different,” he said, giving a nod when I hovered the bottle over the rim of his glass. “I’m not used to working in an office or keeping regular hours. It’s a lot of meetings and collaboration, which is nice, but I’m adjusting to not being the lead.” He chuckled. “That sounded more arrogant than I intended.”
I shook my head and set the wine aside after topping off Lucas’s glass. “I don’t think it’s arrogance. You’re used to boots on the ground, giving the orders, and keeping everyone on track. Sitting in a boardroom making plans for things happening half a world away is a huge shift.”
He raised his glass. “It is.”
“You’ll adjust,” I told him, smiling over the rim of my own glass. “I have no doubt.”
“Well, I’ll get my first taste of field work here in a few weeks.”
My eyebrows lifted.
“I’ve received my first international assignment,” he said. “To Spain. I’ll be gone for three weeks.”
My heart sank. I’d known travel was part of the job requirements, but hadn’t expected it to come so soon or to last for so long. We’d spent our entire relationship living long-distance. He’d spent more time in Beechwood Harbor with me, but only for a few weeks here and there in between filming assignments for the reality TV show he’d worked on.
I couldn’t say why this new development was different than the past, but it tugged on some new thread of emotion and I had to work to force a smile. “That sounds exciting! Spain is lovely.”
He went into some of the details and I did my best to listen and keep my smile in place, but something a few tables down drew my attention away. A ghost was hovering over a diner, a malicious gleam in her haunted eyes. The ghost, a female who looked to have passed away while still in her teen years, dipped her silvery, semi-transparent hands into the middle-aged woman who was enjoying a chocolate tart. The woman sat up a little, her shoulders lifted.
The teenage ghost cackled and touched the woman again.
My eyes narrowed.
“Scarlet?” Lucas said, concern in his voice. “Is something wrong?”
“I—I’m sorry,” I said, tearing my attention away from the ghosts. “I thought I saw someone I went to schoo
l with. But I was wrong.” I reached for my wine glass. “You were saying?”
“Um, just that I’m looking forward to—”
I signaled for a passing server.
“Scarlet, what is going on?” Lucas asked, leaning forward.
“I’m sorry. It’s just, there’s something of a situation over there at that table—”
The server stopped at the table and I asked for a salt shaker. They weren’t readily available on the table and my small clutch wasn’t large enough for the small iron omelette pan I usually carted around in case of ghost misbehavior. The server masked a strange look and hurried off to find me one.
“What are you going to do with a salt shaker?” Lucas asked.
“Scare off that ghost over there before it goes any further. I don’t know if they know how to possess someone, but if they don’t already, they’re about three seconds away from figuring it out.”
The server was nowhere to be seen, and the ghost was dipping her hands back into the woman. I jolted to my feet. Lucas swore quietly. I marched across the dining room, eyes boring into the teenager’s silver-hued profile. I cleared my throat and the two diners as well as the ghost turned to look at me.
The teenage ghost reared back as she met my eyes and realized I was glaring at her instead of blankly looking past her.
“Can we help you?” the man asked, giving me a suspicious frown.
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