Little Ghost Lost (Destiny Bay Cozy Mysteries Book 5) (3 page)

“Hello.”

Astrid was young, probably about thirty, with wild auburn hair and huge green eyes-the epitome of what came to mind when someone said, “She’s an Irish lass.” I could see that such an attractive younger woman could become a sore point between Celinda and her husband if not treated carefully. And from the sound of things, it probably had.
 

Celinda introduced her as an apprentice in her art format, someone learning the ropes of using your body as your paintbrush. I didn’t know there were so many human paintbrushes. Maybe there was a union. It takes all kinds, as my grandmother used to say. At any rate, she was renting the small gardener’s cottage behind the Moore’s house. She shook hands but hardly gave me a glance.
 

“Oh, Celinda, I’m so glad I caught you,” she said breezily.
 
“I wanted to make sure I understood your intentions. Are you still planning to attend that art show in Cambria this weekend?”

Celinda looked startled for a moment, then purposefully brought back a smile.
 

“Yes, dear. I’m leaving within the hour. Why do you ask?”

“I was actually thinking of going with you, but now that’s going to be impossible. I have an old friend showing up, needing a place to stay for the night. Would you allow me to invite her to stay with me at the cottage for a day or two?”

“Oh.” Celinda looked surprised, then slightly puzzled. “Of course. No problem. If you need more bedding, I can leave some comforters and towels on the back porch for you.”

Astrid nodded. “Yes. Thanks so much! Good luck in Cambria.”
 

And she was out the door. Celinda gave Richard a look and he shrugged, as though they both had been startled by what Astrid had said. I couldn’t see the reason for it, but then, I didn’t know much about these people and their lives. She started to close the door, but then turned to Richard, her eyes wide.
 

“Oh no!” she cried in a loud whisper. “It’s that awful Tom Hatchett from across the street. He’s trying to get together a neighborhood petition against doing anything with the Pennington House. He’s worried about traffic. I can’t say that I blame him, but he goes on and on about it and you have the feeling he’s casing the place while he’s talking to you. His beady little eyes dart around into every nook and corner. You know what I mean?”

Richard’s mouth hardened. “Let me handle this,” he said, looking like a man about to gird his loins for battle.

I didn’t know who Tom Hatchett was or why he was considered worthy of getting special handling, nor did I know why everyone in town was visiting this woman while I was all cut up and infirm. It was like a flash mob: “Mele looks ridiculous. Come Quick.”

But I did want to be on my way, so I gave Celinda a quick hug and thanked her for patching me up, while Richard marched toward the large front doors with a grim look on his face.
 

“Thanks so much,” I told her. “I’ll just slip out the back way. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon. Good bye.”

She waved in a distracted manner, her attention on what was happening at her front door, and then to her cell phone, which was buzzing.

“Oh dear, here’s Jerry,” she muttered, looking at the phone. “Whatever does he want now?”

I made my way out. As I closed the back door, I heard some shouting. Something about traffic and too many cars and neighborhood conditions. Good old Tom seemed to be a noisy, as well as a nosy fellow.
 

Celinda’s backyard was nicely manicured and it was pretty obvious where her property ended and the Pennington property began. It looked like no one had done a thing to the grass or the weeds on the Pennington side for the last two years, and I had to pick my way through treacherous holes in the turf and hidden boards with nails in them. Then I noticed the filled in swimming pool. You could see the concrete forms for the diving board and the ladder sticking out of the plantings. It made me sick to think of that poor boy drowning there—and his poor parents. Two children dead. Talk about tragedy.

I looked up at the broken balcony and shuddered. I knew I should really go up there and close things up, but there was no way I was ever going into that house alone again. I did make sure the front door was locked, but then I headed for my car.
 

Not quickly enough, however. Tom Hatchett, the angry neighbor person, caught sight of me and now he seemed to know who I was. He came running up the driveway, yelling for me to stop, calling me by name. His eyes were a little wild and his shouts were incoherent. I didn’t feel I needed to stick around to find out exactly what he was angry about.
 

I hopped into my car, started the engine, gave him a friendly wave, pretending all was well and I was just passing through--and I drove away as quickly as I dared, letting my breath out in relief when I got far enough away so that I couldn’t hear his shouts any longer.
 

And that was when I heard the voice from the back seat.
 

“Do you have a TV at your house?” it said.
 

My head whipped around and I stared at the child sitting there, my heart nearly jumping out of my chest.

The car just barely missed ramming into the trunk of a huge old oak tree on the corner. I yanked the wheel and pulled over, pulled on the hand brake and tried to catch my breath as adrenalin shot through every pore of my body.
 

“What…?” was all I could get out, staring at her. This couldn’t be happening. “What…?”

She was the prettiest child I’d ever seen. About five years old. Huge blue eyes and blond curls all over her head. She looked anxious, a little scared. She wasn’t sure I really wanted her there.
 

And I didn’t! Good grief no!

Still, pretending I didn’t see her wasn’t going to work. I had to deal with the hand I’d been dealt.
 

“Who are you?” I finally managed to say.
 

She blinked and didn’t answer. Instead, she gazed out the window.

“We used to watch TV but then the man went away and we couldn’t get it to work anymore.”

 
Typical ghost. She wouldn’t answer a direct question until she was ready. I sat and stared at her. This was no spider web apparition. She looked very much like a real live girl. Suddenly I realized she had a little ghost miniature poodle curled up at her feet. Was that the dog I’d heard barking? Oh my.

I had to take her back. There was no question. She belonged at the house. How had she managed to get out, anyway?
 

“Well, we’ll just have to go back,” I said, putting the car into reverse. “Can you get in on your own or…?”

“No!” Her voice was a shriek that curdled my blood and I jammed on the brakes again.
 

“Don’t do that,” I told her forcefully, clutching the wheel and staring at her in the rear view mirror. “Don’t do that again. I can’t promise what might happen if you make that sound one more time!”

Now she was crying. “I can’t go back. They’ll hurt me. Miss Kressy locks me in the pantry and I can’t get out for days and days. Oh please, no! I can’t go back there.”

I turned to look at her, my heart sinking. She was just a baby, impossible to treat the way I would treat any other ghost. I sighed heavily. What was I going to do?

I could take her back and dump her on the front steps, but somehow I didn’t think I could live with myself if I did that. I could take her into the house and try to find someone…some ghost, I mean…who would take care of her the way a child should be taken care of. But I was terrified of going in right now, after what had happened. I needed some time to get back to my normal intrepid self—such as I was.

I looked back at the house. I was beginning to hate the place now. Then I noticed something. Was that a man at the third floor window?
 

“A man,” I whispered to myself, “or a ghost?”

I almost asked the little girl, but I stopped myself in time. She wasn’t going to tell me anything. I knew that from experience.
 

So that was it, wasn’t it? I couldn’t take her back there, so I was going to have to take her home with me. It was only temporary. She was going to have to understand that. But I didn’t know what else to do with her.
 

“Okay,” I said a bit brusquely. “You can come home with me. And you can watch a little TV. But tomorrow, you go back to the house. Okay?”

She nodded, a model of insincerity, as her tears dried on her cheeks.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”
 

She didn’t answer and I made the question harder. “Tell me your name or I’m not taking you anywhere.”

She bounced a little on the seat. “Mandy. My name is Mandy.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay, Mandy. Let’s go to my house.”

She smiled happily. “And Sparky can come too. Right?”

The little dog looked up expectantly. I wondered what our cats were going to make of him.
 

“Sure. Sparky can come too.”

Or I could run the car off a cliff, Thelma and Louise style, and I wouldn’t have to worry about all this anymore.
 

But no, that wouldn’t work. Then I’d be a ghost too.
 

I shuddered and drove on.

Chapter Three
 

Bebe was entertaining Captain Stone. Bebe was always entertaining Captain Stone lately. Made you wonder if the man still had a job with the local police. I guess when you’re captain, you get certain privileges.
 

“What happened to you?” Bebe asked as I walked into the room.

That stopped me cold. I’d forgotten about the silly Band-Aid coverage courtesy of Celinda, and I looked down self-consciously.
 

I had Mandy with me, but no one had noticed, and that was a good thing. I guess. I had been hoping to discuss the child with Bebe and get her input on what I should do with her.
 

But Bebe wasn’t seeing ghosts lately. She used to. We both grew up in my grandmother’s house in Hawaii and ghosts were part of the experience when Grandmother was around. We didn’t think twice about it—though I’d been surprised when I’d landed at Bebe’s house here in California and found she had her own ghost in residence. Aunty Jane had been Grandmother’s best friend once. She had come with Bebe to California when she’d married Jimmy Miyake and come with him to help run his flower farm. Jimmy had died a few years before, but Aunty Jane had stayed on.
 

The only problem was, lately Bebe couldn’t see her. She was acting as though ghosts were something from her younger days, no longer necessary. So her opinion wasn’t going to mean much. Once again, it looked like I was on my own.
 

“Oh nothing,” I said, noting that Bebe was already lost in Captain Stone’s gaze and forgetting all about me. “I just fell off a second story balcony and got beat up by a camellia bush. No big deal.”

Stone shrugged, his ice blue eyes cool as an Arctic wind. “It looks like you have no lasting injuries,” he said dismissively.
 

Bebe beamed at me as though Captain Stone had just pronounced me fit as a fiddle. “We’re off to the movies. I left you some lasagna in the ‘fridge. You can microwave it or….”

“I’ll be fine,” I said quickly. “Go on. Have a good time.”

She looked a little anxious for a minute and I wondered what was going on. I knew she was crazy about Stone, but the relationship had taken a beating a few weeks ago when he’d practically arrested me, even though she’d warned him not to. Things were slowly getting back to normal it seemed.
 

I grabbed Mandy’s little ghost hand and pulled her along with me toward my bedroom, with Sparky bouncing along behind. No point in risking a confrontation in front of the captain.
 

“Mele,” Bebe called after me. “I won’t be late. We’ll talk when I get back. Okay?”

“Sure we will.”

I had a lump in my throat, but I really didn’t want to make her feel bad. That wasn’t my purpose at all. In fact, if there was anyone who deserved to feel as though everyone loved her, it was my Aunt Bebe. She was a peach, and she had every right to fall in love. Only…why did it have to be with the one man who hated me unconditionally?
 

“I have to work in the morning,” I reminded her. “So that talk might have to wait a bit.”

“Okay.” She threw me a kiss and looked up at the Captain. “Later.”

Captain Stone sent me a look that could be loosely translated into,
“Don’t you dare do anything to hurt this lovely woman I’m currently seducing as fast as I can. You got that?”

I nodded. I didn’t want any trouble.
 

Unfortunately, Stone had something against me. I wasn’t totally sure what it was, but I knew it involved my father. I’d found out that he’d known my father in the Army and relations between the two of them had been tense, to say the least. Someday I was going to have to make him tell me just what my father had done to make him hate me. That was probably going to have to wait for awhile. Right now, I was feeling too shaky to deal with it.
 

They left. Mandy and Sparky and I headed to the bedroom. And then I faced the next problem: no TV in my room.
 

“No TV?” The beautiful child looked stricken.
 

“There’s one in the guest room,” I told her quickly. “Let’s go. We can camp out over there.”

I found a children’s cartoon show called Octonauts and she curled up on the bed, completely engrossed right away. Sparky curled up next to her and they looked so adorable, I wished I could take a picture. But those happy feelings began to fade as I began to mull over what in the world I was going to do with her.
 

Aunty Jane! Of course. She would know what to do with a child like this. Now that she was watching TV, I could just slip out and….

But no. I fretted for a moment. Funny little paradox here. If she were a human, live child, I wouldn’t want to go off and leave her alone like this-not at such a young age, when she was unfamiliar with the house. But she wasn’t a live child. And she’d been mostly on her own, probably longer than I’d been alive. So there wasn’t really any point in me hovering over her.