Haunt Couture and Ghosts Galore (2 page)

Chapter 2

 

 

“Do you have a special talent for finding dead bodies? Kind of like a corpse radar?” Charlotte asked.

“You know that isn't true,” I said.

“Actually, I don't know. Aren't you going to help the poor girl?” Charlotte motioned toward Hannah.

I'd already dialed the police, so there wasn't much that could be done. I eased over toward Hannah. When I neared, she finally looked over at me. I approached as if sneaking up on a scared cat. Now that I was standing next to her, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the building away from the body. Her body was rigid as she walked with me. There was no need for her to continue to stare at Melanie's lifeless body. Nothing could be done for Melanie now. Sirens sounded in the distance, growing louder with each passing second.

“I can't believe she's dead. How did this happen?” Hannah whispered.

I noticed blood on Hannah's hands. She spotted me looking at her and stuffed her hands in her pockets.

“I had nothing to do with this, you know?” she proclaimed.

“Of course.”

I wondered if she believed my response. I wasn't even sure if I believed what she said. After all, it was her shoe by the body and she had blood all over her hands. How would she explain that?

As if she read my mind, she said, “I was just trying to help her. That's why I have blood on my hands.”

The sirens were loud now and the swirling lights covered the area in a red and blue glow. Police officers surrounded the area.

“You should know exactly what the procedure is by now,” Charlotte quipped.

Sadly, Charlotte was right. I knew that we would have to give statements to the police, but I wasn't positive that Hannah wouldn't end up in handcuffs tonight. If what she said was true, then I felt bad for her, but if she really did have something to do with Melanie's death, then that just made my skin crawl. Hannah seemed so sweet now in contrast to how she'd acted earlier, but that didn't mean she was innocent by any means.

A dark-haired officer wearing the dark blue Sugar Creek Police Department uniform approached us. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Hannah remained silent with her arms wrapped around her waist as if shielding herself from the harsh reality of what had happened.

Finally, I said, “Melanie was dead when I came outside. I believe Hannah found her.” I pointed to Hannah.

She would probably be unhappy that I had told the officer that, but it was the only thing I could do. The officer pulled her to the side and she could no longer hide the blood on her hands.

“Do you see him yet?” Charlotte asked.

“Do I see who?” I asked.

She waved her finger in my direction. “Don't play dumb with me. Where's the handsome and divine Detective Valentine? I know you're looking for him.”

Maybe I was looking for him, but the main reason was because I knew I would have to explain why I was at the scene of the crime. Well, maybe that wasn't the main reason, but a very important reason nonetheless. I peered out over the darkness and then finally spotted Dylan Valentine. He was talking to another officer. He must have felt my eyes on him because he looked over at that moment.

“This is quite a scene,” a male voice said from behind me.

I jumped and spun around. A fiftysomething-year-old man stood beside me. He wore a gray pinstriped suit, white shirt with red tie, and black and white spectator shoes. His black hair was styled in a forties cut. I stared at him but didn't speak.

“Excuse me, ma'am. Where are my manners? My name is Samuel Sanders. How do you do?” He smiled. “I would offer my hand to shake, but . . .”

Finally, I managed, “Nice to meet you. I'm Cookie Chanel and this is Charlotte Meadows.”

Charlotte studied her ruby red painted fingernails but didn't look up at the dapper-looking man.

“Are you an officer with the Sugar Creek Police Department?” I asked.

“Don't you know that he's a ghost?” Charlotte asked without looking at us.

I studied the man closer, eyeing him up and down. He appeared very much alive to me, but then again, so did Charlotte.

“Sadly, the pretty lady is correct. I am in fact a ghost.” The man peered down at his white suede and black spectator shoes.

Charlotte instantly took an interest in Samuel when he mentioned her appearance. She was so predictable. Charlotte was a sucker for a compliment.

She moved closer to Samuel. “So what brings you here, Mr. Sanders?”

Charlotte may have batted her eyelashes at him.

“That's my hat.” He pointed at the gray fedora near Melanie's body, which was now covered by a white sheet.

I exchanged a look with Charlotte. She shrugged.

“That's your hat?” I asked.

“Yes, ma'am,” he responded. “And I need it back.”

“You can call me Cookie,” I offered.

“And you can call me Charlotte.” She flashed a big smile his way.

I'd purchased the hat from an estate sale in Georgia. Apparently a bunch of people were very attached to their belongings. So much so that they didn't want to leave them, not even in the afterlife. I couldn't exactly go over and retrieve the hat for him.

“I'm pretty sure the hat is now evidence. Sorry about that.”

“That's understandable,” he said. “But you see, I never leave the hat.”

Well, at least that meant he wouldn't be hanging around. One ghost was more than enough for me. He could go to the police station and hang out in the evidence room.

He stuffed his hands into his slacks' pockets. “Oh well, maybe it was time for me to give up on the hat anyway. Hey, here's an idea, I can just hang around with you. See, I don't come into contact with people who can see me very often.”

There were other people who could see him? Of course there were. Surely, I wasn't the only person in the world capable of seeing spirits. Later when all this mess was settled I'd have to ask Samuel if he knew how that worked. What was I talking about? I didn't want there to be a later. He needed to leave now.

“Actually, we're not that great to hang around with,” I pointed out.

“Speak for yourself,” Charlotte said. “Feel free to hang around with us all you want,” she added.

“Thank you, darling.” He winked at her and I knew that I was not going to win this fight.

“So what happened here tonight?” he asked.

I glanced back at the body. “She was murdered? I really don't know all the details yet.”

“Well, this just so happens to be my specialty.” He stood a little straighter and puffed out his chest.

“Murder is your specialty?” Charlotte moved back a couple steps. As if he could still murder her.

He chuckled. “No, I was a private investigator. A gumshoe.”

Chapter 3

 

 

“Like I said, I was a private investigator. That was back in the forties; 1946 to 1949, actually. That was when I met my demise.” He looked down at his shiny black and white shoes.

Did I dare ask what happened to him? Yeah, I might as well because he probably would tell me eventually. Besides, I was curious to know what had happened. Morbid fascination, I suppose.

Charlotte nudged me. “Ask him what happened. I know you want to.”

She was beginning to know me all too well.

I met his gaze. “So what happened to you, Mr. Sanders?”

“Please, call me Sam. Direct your attention for just a moment to the body under the sheet.” He gestured with a wave of his hand.

Against my better judgment, I took a quick glance toward the location where Melanie lay. “I don't think the police would appreciate me looking under the sheet.”

“I suppose you're right. Anyway, I was murdered too,” he said.

“Me too,” Charlotte replied, as if it was some kind of special club.

“That's terrible, Sam. Do you know who did it?” I asked.

The corners of Sam's mouth turned down. “I'm almost positive, yes.”

Charlotte pointed. “Here comes the detective.”

Dylan was headed my way. Our eyes met. I knew I had a lot of explaining to do.

“Remember to tell the detective everything,” Charlotte said.

“You're not helping me,” I mumbled under my breath.

Charlotte raised one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. “Someone has to keep you on your toes.”

I shifted from one foot to the other. What was I going to tell Dylan?

“Just tell him the facts,” Sam said, as if he'd read my mind.

I felt as if I was on an old episode of
Dragnet.
Sam was right, though, the only thing to do was to tell the truth.

Dylan approached. “Cookie, what happened?”

Dylan Valentine looked handsome as usual in his black trousers, crisp white shirt, and blue and red striped tie. His thick dark hair was cut short and his blue eyes were surrounded by thick lashes.

“A woman is dead, what does he think happened?” Charlotte said.

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I don't know what to say.”

“Why don't you start from the beginning and tell me what happened.” Dylan tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

I gestured toward the body. “I came outside because I was looking for Melanie.”

“You sure did find her,” Charlotte quipped.

I wanted to cut Charlotte a look, but Dylan was staring right at me.

“That was when I saw Hannah standing beside Melanie. The bloody shoe was right there still in her.” I shivered at the thought.

“She was already dead?” Dylan asked.

My body tensed as I relived the moment again in my mind. “Yes, she was gone.”

“Did you see Hannah with the murder weapon?”

“I saw her with the shoes earlier because she wore them in the fashion show. So, yes, I saw her with the weapon.”

“Great detective work so far,” Sam said.

I wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic.

“Did you see her do this?” Dylan asked.

“Thank goodness, no. I came out and saw Hannah standing over the body. So I can't say for certain that she had anything to do with it.”

Dylan stared out into the night for a moment. “Well, the odds aren't looking good in her favor.”

The smell of the nearby magnolia tree perfumed the air. The irony of such a sweet scent lingering over such a horrific scene didn't elude me.

“What will happen to her?” I asked.

“We'll take her to the station and ask questions. Most likely she will be arrested. She's coming willingly right now, so we don't have to arrest her just yet.”

“That's a bad idea on her part,” Sam said, offering his expertise.

Dylan touched my arms. “Will you be okay?”

“I just need to pack up the clothing and I'm finished. Is it okay if I leave?”

His fingers lingered on my arm for a moment. “I think it's fine. If I need to talk with you, though, I may have to call.”

“That is certainly fine with her,” Charlotte answered.

Thank goodness Dylan couldn't hear her comments.

“Cookie has a thing for the detective?” Sam asked.

I was so glad that they could talk about me when I couldn't respond.

“I'll help you when I'm finished here.”

I knew that would be a long wait.

“It's not necessary,” I said. “I don't have much left to do in there.”

“You should let him help,” Charlotte scolded.

Dylan stared at me. “I'm glad you didn't come out here sooner. If Hannah saw you it may have ended badly for you too.”

I hadn't even thought about that. He was right though. What if I had come out there just a few seconds earlier? Would Hannah have turned on me too?

“I still can't believe this happened.”

Dylan turned to me. “Try not to worry too much, okay?”

Another officer motioned at Dylan.

“Call me if you need anything,” Dylan said.

I wrapped my arms in front of my waist. “I will.”

Dylan walked back to the scene.

“Go over there and speak with Hannah while you have the chance,” Charlotte urged.

“I can't do that. The police won't let me anywhere near her,” I whispered.

“Since when has that stopped you?” Charlotte asked.

“Since now.”

“Sometimes solving a case requires risky behavior.” Sam reached up to adjust his hat, but quickly realized it wasn't there and frowned.

Charlotte waved her hand. The chunky bracelets on her arm rattled with the movement. “He's right about that.”

It looked as if it was going to be two against one.

The coroner was removing Melanie's body now. I couldn't wait to get out of there.

“I think we've seen enough of this.” I hurried toward the door and the ghosts followed.

“Do you think he can handle the case?” Sam asked from over my shoulder. “I really think he needs our help.”

What Sam really meant was Dylan needed
his
help.

“Hannah should most definitely hire an attorney right away,” Charlotte added. “You need to tell her to get a lawyer, Cookie. Maybe Ken can handle it since he was on the other case.”

Ken Harrison was a local attorney. Charlotte was quite fond of him. She pushed for me to go out on a date with him every chance she got. If I wasn't dating Dylan, then Charlotte was happy to have Ken step right in.

“Charlotte, I think I'll have to let Hannah get an attorney on her own. It's none of my business. Mr. Sanders, I appreciate that you loved your job.”

He wiggled his finger in my direction.

“Sorry, I mean, Sam, but it looks as if the police already have the killer in custody.” I pointed in the direction of Hannah.

The police officer had her in handcuffs and was putting her in the back of a police cruiser. The red and blue lights still flashed, causing an ominous glow to cover the area. After all, the killer had used the high-heel shoe to eliminate Melanie. Hannah had been the last one wearing the shoes. I didn't want it to be her, but it looked like there was no one else to blame.

Sam tapped his index finger against his chin. This action made Charlotte practically swoon. Apparently, he really buttered her biscuit.

“You know, things aren't always as they seem,” he said.

“This is true, Cookie, you of all people should know this. Someone should investigate this crime.” Charlotte made googly eyes at Sam while talking to me.

“That's what the police are for,” I said.

I didn't like the direction this conversation was going. I wanted no part of an investigation. My thing was vintage fashion, not solving crime.

“You know, Cookie, I think you and I would make a good team.” He flashed a bright smile.

Charlotte smiled. “I think that's a great idea.”

“You would,” I said drily.

When I glanced over at the police cruiser, Hannah and I made eye contact. In spite of Hannah's behavior, I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Maybe I should make sure she wasn't the guilty one. Why did I always find myself in these situations? I should just say no and walk away, but I couldn't.

Charlotte and Sam stared at me, and I finally said, “Where do we start the investigation?”

Charlotte clapped her hands. “That's my girl.”

“It will be a pleasure working with such beautiful and smart women.” Sam winked at Charlotte.

Their flirting was getting to be too much.

I had just agreed to investigate a murder. That was something that should be left to the police, but when did I let that stop me? But why was Sam really here? Melanie had his hat in her hands when she was murdered. I had brought the vintage hat for one of the models to wear. It was an interesting coincidence that Sam was a private investigator back in the 1940s. He'd said he never got a chance for a great case like this, so now was his opportunity. And I was the one to help.