Giving Up the Ghost (5 page)

Terry squared his shoulders. "Welcome to CH. And just in case you happen to need a
new car, I'll give you a fantastic deal on a new Camry." He lowered his voice in mock modestly. "I
was named Chrissom Harbor Motors Best Salesman two years in a row."

The other men laughed good-naturedly. "Give her a break, Terry," Reese said. "She only
moved in yesterday."

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "I bet Gabbie needs a new car like she needs me to deliver more
furniture over to Cam Leeds' cottage."

Gabbie felt a stab of anxiety as the three men turned to stare at her. Then she realized
they were waiting to see her reaction. She'd give them one, all right, and learn as much as she could
by pretending to know nothing. "Cam? I thought the owner's name was Roland Leeds."

The air around the table crackled with energy.

"Both brothers owned it," Reese explained, "but Cam lived there till he died last
May."

"Oh? That's too bad. Was he ill long?"

Reese sent her a look of apology. "I didn't want to say anything last night, with you just
moving in and all."

But you didn't mind making enough innuendos to frighten any sensible person.

"Fell over the cliff to the beach below," Jack said. "Dead drunk when it happened."

Gabbie pressed her hand to her heart. "My God, how awful!"

Terry smirked. "Lots of folks 'round here think it's for the best."

Gabbie's outrage was genuine. "How can you say that about a man who's dead?"

"A man who lived to make deals, some of them as crooked as the curve of this beer
bottle," Terry said.

Reese grimaced. "Cam used people, even his friends. He pulled all kinds of shenanigans,
all so he'd end up with more cash in the bank. No better than Bernie Madoff, he was."

Jack reached out a meaty hand to pat Reese on the shoulder. "You gotta stop chewing at
that like a dog on a bone. What's done is done. And you're in good company."

"Right you are, Jack, but I can't get over how you, me, Don and Terry would have made a
bundle if that skunk hadn't--"

"Good evening, miss. And what's to be your pleasure?"

The publican stood broad and solid beside Gabbie, most likely a former football player
who had managed to keep in shape.

"I'll have a Bud light."

He rejected her order with a disparaging shake of his bald head. "Logan's has choices for
the discerning beer drinker. What about a Bass Ale or a Stella Artois? And I have Kilians on
tap."

"Oh," Gabbie said, flustered that he'd seen through to her humble opinion of the
establishment. "In that case, make it a Stella Artois."

"Stella Artois it is." He winked, clearly pleased with her selection. "I'm Mike, by the way.
And you're the new English teacher who's renting the Leeds place."

"Gabbie Meyerson." She put out her hand. "I see there are no secrets around here."

Mike roared with laughter. "News travels fast. As for secrets, CH has more skeletons in
the closet than boats in the marina during the summer months."

He left as a chubby man dropped into the chair between Terry and Jack. He was panting
as if he'd been running. Reese made the introductions.

"Gabbie Meyerson meet Don Terranova. Gabbie's come to teach English at the high
school."

"She's renting the Leeds cottage," Terry added. "We're filling her in about Cam."

Don Terranova's smile turned into a leer. "Gabbie, you're lucky the guy's six feet under.
He'd try to screw you one way or the other."

"Watch your language. There's a lady present," Mike admonished. "Here you are, Gabbie.
Glass and beer properly chilled."

She sipped and nodded her approval. "Perfect," she declared. Once Mike had left, Gabbie
returned her attention to the four men, eager to find out more. "Are you saying Cameron Leeds
swindled the four of you?"

"And managed so it was all legal and above board," Terry said, a steely tone to his voice.
"He convinced each of us to sell him our adjoining parcels of land over by Miller's Pond. We'd
bought them ten years ago as a lark. Cam kept after us how it was marshy land and no one in his
right mind would ever want it. Said he'd pour dirt into it, maybe develop it some day down the
road."

"And he lied!" Reese's face turned red with fury. "He turned it over, quick as a fox, to a
builder. Now they're putting up eight, nine hundred thousand dollar houses on one-acre plots. He
bought low, sold high."

Gabbie was delighted with the way things were going. Getting them to talk was as easy
as riding a bicycle. "And you didn't know a builder wanted to buy the land?"

Jack shook his head. "We hadn't a clue. At the time we thought selling was a good thing
to do, being the land's a bit marshy and the taxes were just hiked up. And I, for one, could make
good use of the twenty-five thou he paid us each."

"Cam was probably responsible for the tax hike, too," Don said. "He was on the tax
exploratory committee, remember?"

"Come on," Terry said. "He wasn't that powerful."

"He was a scoundrel, all right." Reese shook his head mournfully. "I'll never forgive him
for the way he treated Jill. Plenty of times she came to work with red eyes. The foolish girl thought
he'd marry her, but he only brought her grief."

"Jill's problem was taking Cam seriously," Jack said. "He was a great one for living it up.
He must have been a nice change from her stick of a husband. Adele says Fred thinks more about
his work at the lab than his wife."

"Still, Jill should have known better," Terry said bitterly. "Cam always went after the
married women." He tilted back his chair and took a deep pull on his beer before he spoke again.
"All in all, the scum bucket got what was coming to him. You gotta admit, there's some justice in the
world."

"Yeah," Don agreed. "Good thing he died, or maybe someone would have arranged it for
him."

The eyes of the other men shifted away from Don. Terry and Reese drank their beer.
Jack rummaged through his wallet.

So Cam nailed Don's wife and maybe Terry's. She'd have to ask Cam. Now was the
perfect opportunity to pop the question she'd been dying to ask. With a little laugh, she said, "Are
you sure nobody pushed him off the cliff? It sounds like half the town had reason to want him
dead."

The four men exchanged worried glances.

Terry spoke first. "Hey, Gabbie, no one killed Cam. The guy may have pulled a few dirty
tricks, but he was our friend. The greatest drinking buddy. The most fun guy around."

"Don't get the wrong impression," Reese said. "We're just letting off steam."

"Besides," added Jack, "Darren got the coroner to examine the body, and old Doc
Bradley said it was death by misadventure."

"Who's Darren?" Gabbie said, glad that the light was dim.

"Darren Rollins. CH's police chief and Cam's best friend," Don said. "If there was the
slightest chance of foul play, believe me, he'd have been on the case in a minute."

Gabbie was debating where to take the discussion from here, when the matter resolved
itself. She yawned. Suddenly, her very bones were sleepy. She longed to crawl into bed and shut off
the light. She stood. "Sorry to cut it short, but these last few days have exhausted me. It was nice
meeting you, gentlemen."

As she reached into her pocketbook, Jack covered her hand with his. "Our treat tonight,
Gabbie. Welcome to Chrissom Harbor."

"Why, thank you," she said, touched despite herself.

The men nodded as though they'd come to an unspoken agreement. Reese said, "We're
here most week nights 'round about this time, so join us whenever you feel like a bit of company."
He laughed. "Mind you, we extend this offer to very few women besides our wives. Though the truth
is, my Jane rarely comes down."

"I'm honored," Gabbie said.

Don wagged a stubby finger at her. "Make sure you stop by Tessa's Salon on Elm Street
ASAP. Owned and operated by me and my wife. I'll see that you get good head--er, a good hair cut
and blow dry."

Gabbie patted her mop of curly hair. The man was as coarse as Kosher salt, but she was
long overdue for a cut. Besides, a salon was the ideal place to pick up local gossip. Women were
obliged to sit still while beauticians attended to their hair and nails, with little else to do but chat
with their neighbors. Yes!

"I just might do that." She slipped into her parka and headed for the door.

She drove slowly back to the cottage, sorting through the grievances the four men held
against Cam. She found herself sparked with anger on their behalf. Cam had ill-used them, even
cuckolded some of them, and these were men he'd known most of his life. She felt sorry for Reese,
Terry, Jack, even Don, and hated being put in the position of having to consider that one of them
might have killed Cam.

She turned into the rutted driveway and shut off the ignition. Of course someone else
might have killed Cam. Jill? Fred? The murderer might turn out to be a person Cam hadn't thought
to tell her about. Gabbie shook her head. So many possibilities, and each and every one of them had
a good reason for offing him.

"I can't believe it!" Gabbie thumped her palm to her head as reality struck her like a slap
in the face. She was still a sucker. After her ordeal with Paul, she still hadn't learned to protect
herself from devious con artists. She'd no sooner heard Cam's sad tale and off she went to Logan's
at his so-called innocent suggestion, rushing headlong into playing detective.

Well, she wasn't equipped to play detective. Murder was serious business. It was sad
that someone had killed Cam, but he'd made a slew of enemies. If only there were some way she
could convince Darren Rollins to reopen the case.

She let herself into the cottage and started up the stairs. Cam called out to her, wanting
to know what she'd learned.

"Just that half the town is still mad at you. We'll talk tomorrow. Good night."

"But Gabbie--"

Gabbie closed her bedroom door so she wouldn't have to listen to his plaintive pleas.
Tomorrow she'd repeat what his pals had said. Right now she had to get a good night's sleep.

The alarm awakened Gabbie from a deep sleep. She peered out the window at the
light snow blanketing the back lawn in lacy white. A dart of nervous excitement zipped through her
body and settled in her stomach. Today was her first day of school.

She showered, put on the woolen slacks and sweater she'd set out the night before, and
went downstairs to eat a light breakfast of coffee and a bagel. Too late, she remembered she'd left
her briefcase of school papers and books in the den. She'd no sooner entered, when Cam
materialized in her path. One more step and she would have walked right through him!

"Don't do that!" she snapped.

"My, we're testy today." Cam settled comfortably on the couch. "Don't tell me you have
first day jitters."

The briefcase was beside the lounge chair. Gabbie reached for it, felt an icy touch on the
back of her neck, and gave a start.

"Aren't you going to tell me what transpired last night? I've been waiting for your report
with bated breath."

He exuded two clouds of frost. Despite herself, Gabbie grinned as she knew he'd
intended her to.

"That's right. Loosen up. I'd give you a back rub if I could."

"I'm sure. No doubt step three of your seduction routine. Things will go better if you
delete all such comments, okay?"

She hid her grin as a shamefaced expression crossed his handsome features. He reacted
like a human. He was human, except for the fact that he wasn't flesh and blood. And he was dead.
Gabbie shivered. It was surreal how quickly she had adapted to conversing with a ghost.

"I met your four ex-cronies Reese, Jack, Don, and Terry. They all hate your guts,
especially Don for screwing--er, sleeping with his wife."

Cam laughed with delight. "You found out all that, did you? And in one evening. You're
one terrific sleuth, Gabbie. I knew I could count on you."

Damn it, despite his wolflike tendencies, his charm came naturally. His admiration
stroked her ego.

"I bet they cursed me out and griped and groaned, but the truth is, deep down each of
them wishes he could've pulled off what I did."

"Pulled it off," she said wryly, "but didn't quite make it home and free."

His voice went soft, almost tender. "I want you to meet Jill and get to know her. She
wouldn't harm me, even though I hurt her bad. But maybe Fred did the dirty deed and confessed to
her after sleepless nights."

Gabbie had to grin at that. "You loved her, didn't you?" She chuckled. "And you're just
finding it out."

Cam slumped back against the couch, his hands dangling between his knees. "I should
have let her come with me. Then maybe we'd be together now, happy in some beautiful place."

"Not necessarily," Gabbie said. "Where does Jill do her volunteer teaching?"

"At the library, a couple of afternoons a week."

"I'll try to stop there later." She glanced at her watch. "I have to go. I'll let you know if I
learn anything."

"Hold on. Does that mean you've officially decided to find my murderer?"

Surprised, she realized she had. "It means I'll do my best to find out what I can. I can't
promise any results."

"Thanks, Gabbie. That's good enough for me. One more thing!" he called out as she
walked into the hall. "I wish you'd tell Jill that I miss her."

"And end up in a psych ward? Now don't go soppy on me."

But when she went outside, she felt a pang of sympathy for Cam's ghostly state. The
temperature had fallen to the low twenties, and the cold air made her gasp. The sun reflected
brightly on the snow, which covered everything in sight. A postcard view of beauty. Even outdoors
in frigid, wintry weather like this, it was wonderful to be alive.

* * * *

Gabbie spent the first two morning periods in the faculty room, meeting various
members of the staff and reviewing her class plans. Later she wished she hadn't drunk those three
cups of coffee, because when the bell rang for her first class, her stomach felt like a trampoline full
of jumping beans.