Millie on a Mission

by Amanda M. Lee

  Millie on a Mission

  A Charlie Rhodes Cozy Mystery Short

  Amanda M. Lee

  WinchesterShaw Publications

  Copyright © 2019 by Amanda M. Lee

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. One

  2. Two

  3. Three

  4. Four

  5. Five

  6. Six

  7. Seven

  8. Eight

  9. Nine

  10. Ten

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  Books by Amanda M. Lee

  1

  One

  “Coffee.”

  It was a demand, not a request.

  My nephew Chris Biggs merely smiled indulgently as he grabbed a mug and started pouring. If he knew anything it was that I, Millie Watson, am not a morning person. I need at least three mugs of hardcore caffeine – we’re talking coffee strong enough to strip a stomach lining here – before I’m even remotely human. That’s on a good day. On a bad day I need seven. I’m not exaggerating.

  “You look like you had a long night,” Chris noted as he watched me reach for the sweetener packs. We were in the small kitchenette at the Legacy Foundation, the place where we both worked, and he seemed much happier than I felt.

  “I did have a long night,” I confirmed, dumping two packets of Equal into my coffee before reaching for the creamer. “I was watching Stranger Things on Netflix and I couldn’t make myself stop. That’s why binging is a bad idea. I just had to keep going.”

  Chris’s smirk was easy and quick. “I didn’t know you liked Stranger Things.”

  “I didn’t know it either. Charlie turned me on to it. For some reason, she absolutely loves the show and she suggested I watch it.”

  That wasn’t exactly true. I’d figured out right away why Charlie Rhodes, the newest member of our paranormal investigative team, was enamored with the Netflix show. She identified with the main character, Eleven, a telekinetic wonder who has questions about her identity and existence. Charlie was magical herself — and had no idea where she came from — so it made sense that she would connect with the show.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t mention that to Chris because he had no idea about Charlie’s true nature. As much as I loved my nephew — and I loved him enough to continue working for the foundation that my ex-husband owned and operated even after we divorced, making my ex-husband technically my boss — I couldn’t spread Charlie’s secret. I’d made a promise ... and I intended to keep it.

  “It’s a great show.” Chris was the enthusiastic sort. He didn’t have a suspicious bone in his body and didn’t as much as question why Charlie had suggested a show about a telekinetic wonder to me. It never even crossed his mind. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  “Don’t get too excited,” I warned. I knew what he was thinking. “There’s no way I’m going to let you drag me to a bunch of science fiction and horror movies to see what else you can get me to like. I’m still traumatized from when you made me see that haunted doll movie.”

  Chris chuckled. “Annabel.”

  “I don’t care what her name was. She was creepy and I had nightmares for two straight nights.”

  Chris leaned his hip against the counter and sipped his coffee, his eyes twinkling. “I didn’t realize you were afraid of dolls. That’s called pediophobia, by the way. It’s a real thing.”

  He always knew the most ridiculous stuff. “Just haunted dolls.”

  “That’s kind of funny because you’re the brave one when we go on assignments. I mean ... you weren’t afraid of the zombies in New Orleans.”

  He delivered the line with good humor, but our recent trip to New Orleans had been disastrous. Several members of our group were still recovering. I stole a look in their direction.

  Charlie and Jack Hanson sat in comfortable chairs in the main room of our suite. For all intents and purposes, they looked calm – even at ease – at least from the outside. I knew better. They’d been messed up for days since returning from New Orleans.

  I didn’t know much other than they’d gone out one night and came back bedraggled. Once they’d returned, the threat was gone. They stuck close to each other that night, and Jack had been attentive and protective since, but their interactions with one another were stilted.

  Something very bad had happened between them ... and I was determined to find out what.

  “I wasn’t thrilled about the zombies,” I countered, finding my voice. “I guess it all happened so fast that I didn’t have a chance to worry about being afraid.”

  “I just wish we could’ve caught one.” Chris turned wistful. “I would love to have a zombie to experiment on.”

  He didn’t realize what he was saying, of course. He had no idea that he sounded like a megalomaniacal baddie from a scary book. All he could think about was getting proof of what he knew to be true. The paranormal was real and he wanted the whole world to realize it. He had no idea there was proof in our very group, and I wanted to keep it that way. It’s not that I thought he might experiment on Charlie. That’s not who he was. But he would constantly try to get her to perform, and in his zest to learn everything he could about her he would also put her life at risk. I couldn’t have that.

  “Well, I’m sorry your plan to catch a zombie and experiment went awry,” I offered dryly. “I know that must be a disappointment to you.”

  “Totally.” He kept talking, his lips flapping as he went on and on about the importance of catching a real zombie while I tuned him out and focused on Charlie and Jack.

  She looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. I knew Jack was staying close, protecting her, but their emotions were close to the surface. I couldn’t understand why. They’d obviously survived the battle with the zombies and took down whatever foe was causing the phenomenon ... and yet they weren’t happy. In fact, they looked downright miserable. I made a silent vow to figure out what was torturing them and fix it. If anyone deserved happiness, it was those two. They’d fought hard to find each other, and there was no way I was going to let them be torn apart.

  “Did you hear what I said?” Chris prodded, forcing me back to reality.

  Well, crud. I hadn’t been listening. He obviously realized that. “I was thinking about the zombies.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. I simply wasn’t thinking about the zombies in the same manner he was. “I think we got lucky things ended the way they did. I know you’re upset about not catching a zombie, but we’re probably better off.”

  Chris furrowed his brow. “What makes you say that?”

  “Every zombie movie I’ve ever seen. In fact ... .” I trailed off when the elevator dinged to signify the arrival of a guest. I took a moment to glance around the department and count heads — Bernard Hill was reading a magazine in the corner, Hannah Silver was playing with a new microscope at her desk and Laura Chapman was glaring daggers at Jack and Charlie from her spot behind them — and came up with a complete list. That meant whoever was about to step off the elevator wasn’t part of our group.

  “Maybe we have a new case,” Chris suggested, moving to stand, his shoulder brushing mine. He was decidedly taller, but not so big he felt intimidating, unlike Jack, who was built like a Hollywood star in a boxing movie. “I could use something fresh to sink my teeth into.”

  Most of us probably agreed with that. We got antsy if we spent too much time in one place. Still, Charlie and Jack had other things
going on. Perhaps it was best if we didn’t travel — for them — at this time. “Maybe.” I licked my lips and frowned when the doors opened to reveal a woman I recognized from my former life as Myron Biggs’ wife. “Oh, well, son of a ... .”

  Chris widened his eyes as I began to swear under my breath. “I take it you know her.”

  I nodded, doing my best to control my anger even though I wanted to start stomping around the room and disappear into my office before another word was uttered.

  “Who is she?” Chris prodded, obviously confused.

  “Adele St. Clair,” I gritted out after a beat, my eyes narrowing as she searched the room. I wasn’t surprised when her gaze fell on me. I was obviously the one she was looking for. “She runs in the same circles as your uncle, the same circles I used to be part of when I was married to him.”

  Chris didn’t look bothered by the admission. “I wonder what she wants.”

  That was a very good question.

  BECAUSE SHE WAS CLEARLY HERE for me, I greeted Adele with a tight smile and what I hoped came across as sincere welcome before pointing her toward my office. Technically Chris handled the intakes — he was in charge of our group — but Adele hadn’t gone through proper channels. This was personal, which meant I had to talk to her, even though I would rather deal with ten haunted dolls than one entitled woman.

  “Well, this place is ... nice.” Adele had a smile at the ready as she sat in one of the chairs across from my desk. “I knew you had an office here. I didn’t realize it was in the basement, though. I pictured a penthouse view I guess … not that there’s anything wrong with the basement.”

  The way she said “basement” reminded me of the time she threw a garden party and realized the caterer had brought paper napkins instead of linen to her swanky tea extravaganza. “I actually like being in the basement,” I offered. “No one bothers us and we have the entire floor to ourselves. We can spread out as much as we want.”

  “Yes, well ... you’re the one who enjoys working.”

  Adele was not the sort of woman who worked. In fact, she once told me that she looked at women who chose to have jobs as confused individuals who simply hadn’t found their true calling yet. No, honestly, she said it with a straight face and everything.

  “I do like working,” I agreed, doing my best to keep my temper in check. One of the reasons I divorced my husband — they were many and varied — was that I was sick of living the rich lifestyle he seemed to so easily embrace. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Myron, but I got to the point that I wondered if there had ever been two more mismatched people. We were much better apart, something we both happened to agree upon. He still loved his fancy parties and I loved a night spent with Netflix and pizza delivery. It worked out for both of us.

  “Well, that’s great for you.” Adele shifted in her chair. “That’s why I’m here, actually. I need your help.”

  We were finally getting somewhere. “My help with what? If you’re throwing another séance party, I’ll have to pass. That last one devolved into drunken shenanigans and nonstop ‘light as a feather, stiff as a board’ games. I’m a bit too old for that.”

  Adele’s lips curved down. “That’s not what I have in mind. I need your expertise.”

  “My expertise?” Now I was really confused. “My expertise in what? I haven’t planned a party in years. I don’t miss playing that game.”

  The sigh that escaped Adele’s lips was long and drawn out. “I don’t need your help with a party. I’m perfectly capable of planning my own party.”

  “Fair enough. What do you need my help with?”

  “Well ... it’s a little difficult to explain.”

  “Try me.”

  “Just ... wait a second.” She rubbed her hands together and shifted in her chair again. It was as if she couldn’t get comfortable, which led me to believe that whatever she was about to drop on me was more serious than I initially envisioned.

  “Is something wrong with Arthur?” That was the first question that popped into my head. Arthur St. Clair was a wealthy former attorney who had retired after representing a former professional basketball player accused of killing his wife. He got the player off on a technicality and the money that flowed in was enough for him to retire early. He’d been golfing and lounging at the country club ever since.

  “Oh, this isn’t about Arthur,” Adele replied. She seemed surprised that I would drag him into things. “Arthur is ... Arthur. There’s nothing wrong with him other than the fact that he starts drinking before noon.”

  “He’s developed a drinking problem?” I never liked Arthur and Adele, but that wasn’t the sort of thing I wanted to hear. “I’m sorry. Are you going to host an intervention and get him to rehab or something?’

  Adele wrinkled her nose. “Um ... no. I didn’t say he had a drinking problem. I said that he starts drinking before noon on the golf course. Everybody knows that’s tacky. He doesn’t seem to care, though.”

  “Oh, well, sure.” I felt stupid for assuming she was trying to procure help for her husband. That wasn’t who Adele was. She cared only about helping herself. “So ... why are you here?”

  “I guess there’s no easy way to explain it,” she supplied. “I keep trying to think of a dignified way of asking for help, but there isn’t one. The thing is ... my house is haunted and I know the people in this group are psychics or whatever. I want you to get rid of the ghost for me and I’ll pay you to keep it quiet.”

  Whatever I was expecting, that wasn’t it. My mouth dropped open as I ran the words through my brain, which felt as if it was about to burst given the dearth of inappropriate questions fighting for dominance.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Adele prodded after a moment.

  Oh, I had plenty to say. Most of it would offend her to the point she fled the office, and I wasn’t quite certain that was the outcome that would be best for me. Well, at least not yet.

  “You have a ghost,” I said finally, wondering how she expected me to react. “How do you know this?”

  The look she shot me was withering. “How do you think I know it?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

  “I thought you were supposed to be an expert.”

  “I’m on a team of experts,” I countered. “I have certain ... abilities ... that allow me to help my team. I need more information.”

  “Fine.” She rolled her eyes but remained focused on the issue at hand. “It started about six months ago. The maids complained that certain parts of the house felt colder than they should. We assumed there was some blockage in the heating system and called for a repairman. After three different repairmen couldn’t find anything wrong, we just assumed the house was drafty ... until we started hearing noises.”

  “You heard noises?” I was officially intrigued. “It wasn’t rattling chains or anything, was it? That only happens in movies and Scooby-Doo episodes.”

  “I didn’t hear chains. I heard ... voices.”

  “Voices? As in multiple voices?”

  “Well ... that’s the thing. I heard whispering and it sounded like multiple voices. I think more than one ghost is going to be unwieldy, though, so I’m leaning toward us having only one ghost.”

  Oh, well, that was some logic for you. Two ghosts were too many, so she was determined to believe they had one. Whether that was the truth or not didn’t matter. “Have you actually seen a ghost?”

  “I’ve seen ... something. It’s hard to explain. I’ve seen shadows and movement, but … I don’t know how to describe it properly. I think you should come out to the house so I can take you on a tour and point out each area where an incident happened.”

  I wasn’t opposed to that. I also wasn’t a charity. “You know you’ll have to pay for my services?”

  Adele scowled. “I’m well aware that you’re not going to work for free.”

  “No, I’m definitely not going to work for free. I think you came directly to me because yo
u think I can help you quietly so you won’t risk others finding out what’s going on. You want this to be kept quiet?”

  Her eyes flashed with something I couldn’t quite identify, but she nodded. “That would be preferable,” she agreed.

  “That means I can’t take the entire team with me. If I do, they’ll want to record everything that happens, and word could spread ... especially because Myron is in charge of the company. He doesn’t stick his nose into our business all that often, but he occasionally asks. I’m guessing that because you still run in the same social circles you’ll want to make sure he doesn’t find out.”

  She nodded stiffly. “It would be better for everyone if that didn’t happen.”

  “That means I’ll be working alone.”

  “I think that’s best for all those concerned.”

  I did, too, especially because I wasn’t convinced that Adele was dealing with a ghost. Ultimately it didn’t matter. Ghosts didn’t frighten me, and I had an idea of exactly how to approach this problem.

  “I’ll help you,” I volunteered.

  Adele let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

  “For a price.”

  She returned instantly to suspicious. “What price?”

  I couldn’t contain my grin. I knew what I wanted … and she wasn’t going to like it. We were about to find out how serious she was about this situation. “I’m glad you asked.”

  2

  Two

  After securing the details from Adele, I promised to be at her house shortly. I just had to gather supplies.

  Actually, there was only one supply I wanted to collect, and she was sitting with her boyfriend and pretending to read a technical magazine.