“Uh, hey, maybe I don’t need to press charges,” he said, with a shake of his head. “Yeah, I’m not going to. Too much of a hassle. I don't have time for that. Too much work to do on my truck.”
“Okay,” Chris said. I could tell he was relieved. He looked at me and Penny. “Then you two are free to go. Next time you have an hour to kill, how about you do something else besides breaking the law? That’d be great.”
Penny laughed. “We’ll see about that,” she said. She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the kitchen door.
We jogged back to the campsite, hopped in my van, and headed to town. After a quick stop at Penny’s mansion for a glass of wine and a costume change, we arrived at Town Park, each dressed in our get-ups. My familiar Skili was perched on my shoulder, and Penny had her feline familiar Turkey in her messenger bag.
Cora was standing on a step ladder, helping her husband Silas string up some orange lights along the front edge of a wooden bandstand. Her Chihuahua familiar was at her feet, yapping cheerfully. Azure, another of our witchy sisters, was waving her twig-like wand at a stand of trees. I watched silvery-gray cobwebs appear in the branches of the aspens she was focused on. I was sure Azure’s familiar, a little mouse, was tucked in her pocket enjoying the show, too.
Annie was standing behind a table, arranging baked goods, wine, and a thermos of coffee. Her familiar, a lynx named Ralph, was at her side. I saw him swipe a cookie off of the table with his paw, and then hunch down over it and start to nibble. Skili took off of my shoulder and swooped toward him, probably to get a beak full of cookies for herself.
Cora, Annie, and Azure caught sight of Penny and me, and abandoned their tasks to gather around us.
“Where have you two been?” Cora asked. She looked down at her oversized sports watch. “It’s almost 5:30! We were starting to worry.”
Annie spoke in a grandmotherly tone. “We all sensed a communal uneasiness, as if something was wrong...”
“And you didn’t return our texts,” Azure added. She looked me up and down. “By the way, great costume, Marley!” she said. “And Penny, you look fab, too.”
“Thanks,” I smiled at her, and then looked to the other ladies. “We’re okay. We got caught up in an investigation today, and ended up figuring out who killed Shirley Allen fifty years ago.”
“Wow, really?” Cora said, arching one of her perfectly-sculpted brows. “How did you do that? She disappeared decades ago.”
“I remember her,” Annie said. “Sweet girl. Tell us what happened, dears.”
Penny spoke up. “It’s kind of a long story. It all started when we went to Ava Allen’s this morning to pick up Marley’s bohemian gypsy costume…”
For the next while, Penny and I filled our friends in on our cold case adventure. As we chatted, we worked on turning Hillcrest Town Park into a Halloween wonderland.
By the time we were through, the park was completely transformed. Cora’s good planning skills, Azure’s sense of aesthetics, Annie’s flair for drama, Penny’s enthusiasm, and a healthy dose of magic all played a part in turning the park into party central.
I also played a part because I set up a magical sound system and started blasting fun dance music.
By 6:30, townsfolk started arriving, and I took my place in the park gazebo. We’d draped some of Shirley’s shawls from the gazebo walls, along with plenty of orange lights, and a few fake spiders. I’d set up a card table in the middle of the room, with a printed, jewel-toned scarf draped over it and a fake crystal ball in the middle.
I had my tarot cards with me as a prop, and a glass of wine and a slice of quiche from Annie’s refreshment stand. Music thumped in the air, and I moved along to the beat. I was planning on doing the gypsy bit for an hour or two, and then busting out some dance moves with everyone else, which I was excited about.
I was feeling happy, and ready to entertain.
When I spotted the first party-goers to climb the gazebo steps and approach my table, my mood improved. Ava entered first, and her aunt Shirley’s ghost was close behind her.
“Hey Ava, hey Shirley,” I said. “I was hoping to see you two tonight.”
Ava looked at me, wide eyed. “You mean, Aunt Shirley’s here with me right now?” she asked.
“Of course I am!” Shirley said. “I want to know if anything’s happened with my case.” She eyed me. “Did you find my killer?” she asked.
I smiled. I was glad to have good news for her. “Yes, Shirley,” I said. “My friend Penny and I solved the case. Oren Lackey killed you. He confessed to his nephew on his deathbed. His nephew is talking to the police as we speak.”
“Oren… Yes, yes, that’s right. It’s coming back to me now! I don’t know what I saw in him. It’s good to know that finally, justice is being served.”
Her translucent form became fainter as she said this, and her voice became more whisper-like.
It was hard to hear her over the music as she went on. “Tell Ava to wear more of my clothes. They’re such pretty things… should be worn out and about more often, and I think it will please her to do so… My spirit is being called off… I’ll go now… Thank you… Happy Halloween!” This last part was just the faintest whisper in the wind.
I felt a sense of relief as she departed, as if some knot of anxiety deep within me had been undone.
“Wow,” I said, breathing out a sigh of relief. “That was wild. She’s gone. She moved on.”
“Just like that?” Ava said. “What were her last words?”
“She said you should wear her clothing out more often. She said you’d have fun with it.”
Ava smiled. “I think I will,” she said. “Did she say anything else?”
I smiled. “Yeah,” I said. “She said, ‘Happy Halloween.’.”
Do you want to find out how Marley and Penny first got interested in witchcraft? Grab The Case of the Love Spell: A Hillcrest Witch Cozy Mystery (Prequel) for FREE: https://BookHip.com/NATZXF
* * *
If you like uplifting, imaginative stories with characters that are like friends, then check out Amorette Anderson’s delightfully magical stories on her Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Amorette-Anderson/e/B07H5PQ49M
Some people are willing to kill to keep their sins hidden. Others are willing to die to expose them. When one of Pastor Frederick's parishioners is targeted by a killer, their only hope might come from the ether. And the good pastor knows just the ghost who can help.
1
Yesterday, 2015
* * *
Reverend Frederick knelt below the enormous figurine of Jesus at the front of the nave. His head was bowed, his eyes closed. His mind was full of the sins he’d committed since the last time he’d knelt in that spot. They weren’t big sins. But each one put a bit more weight on his soul until he felt as if it was prudent to get rid of them. Lighten the load, as it were.
The pastor’s lips curved at the thought and he pushed humor away. It wasn’t a time for smiling. It was a time for prostrating himself before his Lord and Savior to ask forgiveness for being flawed.
He started through the list, taking care not to give himself excuses or justifications for any of them. He’d had an evil thought about Winchester Hannigan for dropping a single dollar bill into the collection plate the previous Sunday, and then palming a twenty back out again. He’d thought unkind things about Mrs. Kastleman at the Saturday morning prayer breakfast, when she’d hoarded muffins, stuffing them into her oversized purse. He’d said a swear word the day before when someone had cut him off as he’d attempted to exit the highway.
He'd had a busy week.
The smile returned because, as a sinner who was an alcoholic and had once struggled with violent rages because of his drinking, Reverend Frederick could definitely have worse things to report to his God. He had, in fact, once confessed much worse things. So he threw in a prayer of thanks for deliverance from his past sins and then brought it to a close. “Amen,” he muttered, before pushing
to his feet.
The heavy door at the front of Crocker Lutheran church slammed shut, and footsteps stumbled heavily toward him.
Reverend Frederick turned, a smile of welcome finding his face.
The smile died on a gasp of pure horror.
The boy was sixteen years old. A spiky cap of thick brown hair stuck up all over his head, and his jeans were filthy at the knees. The white tee-shirt he wore beneath an open flannel shirt was vivid with blood. Probably from the wound at his hairline, which was still seeping blood at an alarming rate.
The pastor hurried forward, hands outstretched as the boy stumbled to a stop in the center of the aisle, weaving unsteadily. “What’s happened, child? Are you okay?” The reverend caught the boy as he fell forward, barely keeping him from landing on his face on the dark red carpet lining the aisle.
Reverend Frederick settled the boy carefully to the floor, pushing a blood-drenched spike of hair away from the wound so he could determine how bad it was. The cut was two inches long and fairly deep. It wasn’t life-threatening, but he would need stitches. “We need to get you to the hospital,” he said, pushing to his feet.
But Mitchel Mistren’s hand snaked out and clasped the reverend’s with surprising strength. “No!”
Reverend Frederick let himself be pulled back to his knees. “Son, you’re bleeding. That wound needs to be tended.”
Large, pale blue eyes widened fearfully. “Please, no hospital. I just need a minute. And maybe some water.”
The reverend frowned down at his young parishioner, knowing he needed medical help. But the boy’s fear was palpable, and he looked ready to bolt. Frederick finally squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “Rest here for a moment. I’ll get my first aid kit and water.”
The boy expelled a long breath and nodded. “Thanks, Pastor.”
The reverend stood. “Don’t thank me, son. I should be calling an ambulance right now.”
The boy closed his eyes. Beneath the drying blood, his face was white as a ghost. “An ambulance can’t help me with this. I need an exorcist.”
Reverend Frederick paused, turning back to the boy. “What did you say?”
The boy looked up at him with an expression of pure terror. “I should have done something, Pastor. If I had…” He shook his head. “I should have told somebody. And now it’s too late.” Tears shone in the boy’s eyes. “I’m afraid, Pastor.”
Pastor Frederick dropped back to one knee, grabbing the boy’s icy hand. “What are you afraid of, son?”
“He’s a devil.” The boy’s lean form shook in a violent shudder. The ice-blue depths of his haunted gaze held a feverish glow. “I’m afraid he’s not going to rest until he drags me into Hell with him.”
* * *
Present Day
“Land sakes, woman, will ya quit yore gawl-danged caterwaulin’? I can’t hear myself think.”
The caterwauling woman put hands on hips, her vibrantly painted features folding into a glower that would have put a lesser man back on his bootheels. “Don’t get all wrathy with me, Josselin Zebediah!” she said. “I swan I been waitin’ since the beginnin’ o’ time for you ta join me in this here game of chess. I’m about ta absquatulate into the ether and leave you to wake snakes on your own.”
“If only…” Joss muttered, drawing a quick grin from Anna.
She’d been trying to price some new stock amid the constant bickering. Fortunately, she was used to it and figured it would end soon. One of her two resident ghosts generally “absquatulated” somewhere before their squabbling came to blows.
Anna used to worry that their fights would turn ugly. But, like quarreling siblings, the ghosts seemed to consider their skirmishes something of a hobby. More to relieve the boredom of being fellow travelers in the ether than anything else.
Though, from Anna’s experience, there was nothing boring about the ether. She shuddered at the all-too-recent memory of having been caught there herself.
As if on cue, a blustery breeze flashed past, bringing gooseflesh up on Anna’s arms, and the chandelier high above her head flickered as Bessy flashed away in a whirl of irritation and ruffled saloon-girl skirts.
One positive thing had come from being temporarily stuck in the ether. Anna was reminded of that as Joss reached over and tapped her chin, grinning down at her. He touched her often since rescuing her from the ether. Just small, friendly reminders that he was there. Before she’d gotten caught in the shadowy mist of the afterlife, her ghostly friend’s touch had been insubstantial as mist, but it had stung like static electricity against her skin. But, since the horrifying experience, Joss felt every bit as solid as their friendship.
“That g’hal’s gonna be the death of me one day,” he said. Then he blinked theatrically. “Oh. Wait…”
Anna laughed. “She’s just bored. She wants some attention.”
He expelled a breath, which sifted over Anna’s skin like a cool mist. “I reckon I’m at sea over her constant neediness. Why don’t she just find somethin’ to engage her mind?”
It was the question of the ages. “Some people aren’t good at entertaining themselves, Joss. Why don’t we try to come up with something she can do?”
He shrugged, his chin coming up as a figure passed by the glass of the front windows. “Puke’s here.”
Anna slid an expectant gaze toward the front door as it began to open with a cheerful jangle. The door halted after only a couple of inches, and Pratt’s voice rang out as he hailed someone across the street. “You know he hates it when you call him that,” she scolded Joss. Though the term had meant “someone from Saint Louis” in Joss’s time, the irrepressible cowboy was fully aware that it meant something else in current times. Anna thought he enjoyed that fact entirely too much.
Joss’s handsome face brightened in a wide smile. “Yep.”
Anna bit back a sigh. “Then why do you do it?”
“For just that very reason, darlin’.”
She shook her head. “I’ll never understand you two.”
Pratt waved goodbye to whoever he’d been chatting with and came inside, his expression filled with pleasure from the encounter. He spotted Anna and his grin widened. “Maude says they have a new meatball and Italian sausage sub. I told her we’d be in at lunchtime to try it out. If that works for you?” He flipped the Closed sign to Open.
Maude Peters was the proprietress of Valduccios, Pratt and Anna’s favorite Italian restaurant.
“That sounds delicious,” she said, returning his smile.
Pratt approached the counter where she worked, his golden-brown gaze finding Joss, who stood close to Anna with a possessive hand resting between her shoulder blades. Pratt skimmed a look over the offending hand and his smile turned down at the corners. “Mr. Wispy.” Pratt put a lot of acid into the address, and his fingers twitched as if they wanted to clench.
“Puke,” Joss replied with equal venom.
Anna eyed her two favorite men. One a dear friend who’d popped into Yesterday’s Antiques one day after Anna had bought the place and scared the beans out of her, and the other, her partner and boyfriend, who’d only been in her life for a couple of years but had become an important part of her happiness in that relatively short time.
At well over six feet, with dark brown hair that he wore military short, golden-brown eyes, thick lashes, a strong nose, a broad jaw, and full lips, Pratt Davies was yummy by any woman’s standards.
Joss would have definitely given Pratt a run for his money in the looks department if he’d been among the living. Joss was as tall as Pratt, which was saying something since he’d grown up in the 1800s when people generally didn’t get that big, and had broad shoulders, dark blond hair under a well-worn cowboy hat, and intense dark blue eyes. With his craggy, down-on-the-range good looks and husky voice, Joss was a true force of nature. Even in wispy form.
They both dwarfed her five feet four inches and small frame.
Anna moved slightly to escape Joss’s hand, knowing he
was just trying to get a rise out of Pratt. “Stop it you two. I’ve had about as much bickering as I can take already today. And it’s barely ten o’clock.”
Pratt gave the belligerent cowboy a last glower and turned away. “Did you hear about the Mistren house up the road?”
“The haunted house?” she asked.
Pratt nodded. “Neighbors are reporting that it’s suddenly come alive at night. Lights flashing on and off and windows and doors opening and slamming shut. Speculation is thick that somebody from the spirit world is trying to send a message.”
“Well, it is almost Halloween,” she told Pratt, waggling her brows. “The spirits are restless.”
“And we all know how the wispy misbehave on All Hallows Eve,” he responded, eyeing Joss. “And just about every day,” he murmured.
Anna’s resident ghost let it roll off him like water off a duck. “I’m sure they’re frustrated that nobody will listen,” he responded. “Reckon it’s a lot like tryin’ ta talk to you, Puke.”
Pratt shook his head. “You know that calling me Puke doesn’t bother me, right?”
Biting her lip, Anna suddenly found a rack of antique dresses she needed to fluff and straighten.
“I reckon I don’t care one way or the other, Puke.”
Pratt headed into the back room. “I’m going to work on refinishing those chairs,” he told Anna. “Lunch at twelve-thirty?”
“Sounds perfect,” Anna agreed, giving him a smile to thank him for not letting Joss rile him up. Or, more likely, for not letting it show that Joss had riled him.
Pratt disappeared into the work and storage room at the back of the store, easing the door quietly closed behind him.
The two men had taken an almost instant dislike to each other once Pratt was able to see Joss. When he’d first come to Yesterday’s Antiques, Pratt’s psyche had been closed to the spectral world. He’d suffered a fright from a truly evil spirit when he was a police detective in Saint Louis, and it had caused him to mentally block his ability to see ghosts. She supposed the spectral blindness had been a relief after that horrible night. A night that had led to his partner being emotionally damaged and had caused him to turn in his badge, get into his car, and just drive. Pratt left Saint Louis and his entire life behind him that night, starting completely over.
Cold Cases and Haunted Places Page 12
