Madison Johns - Agnes Barton Paranormal 01 - Haunted Hijinks (18 page)

“I’m so sorry, Caroline,” he said. “I didn’t mean to run you down, but I just couldn’t bear you leaving me.”

Caroline’s face dropped. Her eyes grew heavy, her teeth bared as she raced toward the man. She shoved him through the door, chasing after him and both of them disappeared. I had to cover my ears now as her screams and wails became louder and louder.

When Sara walked to join me, she didn’t seem to see or hear Caroline throwing the man’s ghost through one wall after the next.

Caroline picked up the picture. “Where did you get a picture of my grandfather, Malcolm? He really had a tragic life. His fiancé, Caroline, was a victim of a hit and run. He married my grandmother a few years later, but even though she had just given birth to my father, it continued to haunt him enough that he took his own life at the age of thirty-two, right here in the mansion. Right here in the third floor room. I wanted to tell you earlier, but it’s just so morbid to talk about that. I suppose after everything you’ve been through, you deserve to know the truth.”

“Thanks, that really explains things. Now I have a clearer understanding about who might haunt the mansion, and who has been haunting me personally.” I told her about Caroline, making her promise not to breathe a word to anyone and she readily agreed.

* * *

By the time Andrew got to the mansion, things had calmed down. Caroline had quit screaming and her intended, Malcolm, was long gone—at least for the moment.

Andrew took me into his arms and we retreated upstairs. He never asked what had happened and I wasn’t willing to tell him the whole truth. Elsie, Mr. Wilson, Bernice, and Millicent were all assigned rooms, and believe me, nobody bothered to ask questions about what had happened, which I was happy about. Even Eleanor, who knew me best, retired to her own room.

I now knew what had really happened to Caroline and why. What was most unclear to me was why she was still here. Perhaps she had stayed to settle the score with Malcolm, but how could she, really? It was clear that Malcolm was a victim of his own jealousy and rage. In one moment, he ran down Caroline and put a whole chain of events into motion. In some way, he must have loved her. Otherwise, why would he agonize so over her death? In a way, Caroline haunted him even though she hadn’t been able to come to the mansion until I came here. That wouldn’t lessen what he had done, but it explained it to me. Hopefully, in time, they’d settle their differences.

Epilogue

“So there’s no connection to Barbara Billings’ brother Robert and her illegal activities?” I asked Stuart.

“None that we can find. They won’t be charged for anything since we were able to recover the money.”

“I suppose there’s no crime against them lying to me,” Sara said as she put a straw to her lips, making sucking sounds as she drank her pink drink with a little umbrella stuck inside.

Stuart nodded. “Background checks is all I can say.”

“But I did check. Her Facebook profile seemed on the up and up.”

“Yes, but so did the International Energy company that she was selling bogus stock of. It’s not worth mentioning since it’s non-existent, or a figment of Katherine’s imagination,” Stuart explained.

“I know. I checked Katherine’s page, too. That’s how I figured out who Len McGroovy really was—Peyton Murphy. I had no idea that Stuart had been investigating the same man who was involved with Katherine in her scheme, but it seems that Katherine had indeed screwed over the wrong man when she didn’t hand any of that cash over to Len. We’ll never really know what Katherine had seen that day on the third floor that resulted in her death though. Is that the only reason you came to town, Stuart?”

He squeezed my hand. “Yes and no. When I heard about your accident, I came, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but why have you stayed away so long?”

“After college, I went right into the FBI academy. I’ve always wanted to be a special agent.”

“Yes,” my daughter Martha agreed. “Always playing cops and robbers.” She whispered to me, “He always made me be the criminal.”

“I can see that. I hope that both of you have decided not to stay so far away. I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

“I can’t make any promises, Mother, but I’ll try my best.”

I left it at that. I had no choice but to take things as they came. Stuart had the right to live his life as he saw fit. It really bothered me to think that he’d put his life in danger as an agent, but in so many ways he was just like his father, my late husband, Tom. Both of them felt inclined to enforce the law.

Eleanor and Andrew joined us on the patio of the Butler Mansion. There hasn’t been a vacancy since the mansion opened as a bed and breakfast, and Sara had left it up to Eleanor and me to run the place. One of our first duties was to seal up the third floor room since the ghosts preferred it that way. We were sure to fix the brick wall in that room with all the original bricks as opposed to replacing them with new ones. I’d hate to renovate the place and have the ghosts leave. The truth was that mansion was their home, and home they should stay.

Elsie and Jack were sitting at another table. They had gotten their money back and were quite sweet on one another. I personally couldn’t understand it, but as Eleanor had often said, “There was someone for everyone.”

Sheriff Peterson and Trooper Sales were enjoying the party as well. I imagined that Peterson was just happy that I had stayed out of his hair on this case for the most part, and I was, too. While they had been involved in the case in some way, the FBI had taken over and wrapped things up.

Caroline has never left my side completely, but she fades in and out at will. As it turns out Caroline is quite useful at times and is always willing to help out, even though Eleanor isn’t completely at ease with her presence. All I know is that life has taken a strange turn for all of us and we’d be fools not to accept any extra help that came our way, even if it came from a ghostly apparition. Caroline was here to stay and I was happy to have her as my newest partner in crime.

Thanks to my many readers who have followed the series — you are my constant cheerleaders. Feel free to contact me on Facebook,
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About the Author

At forty-four, sleep deprived from a third shift job but certain her years of caring for senior citizens could result in something quite unique, Madison Johns made the decision to write. Little did she realize how her decision was soon to change her life.

Her Agnes Barton Senior Sleuths mystery series not only opened the door to an amazing writing career but also quickly made their way onto Amazon’s bestsellers list for cozy mystery and humor. But Agnes and her fellow sleuths didn’t stop there. Madison’s charming cast of senior characters also went on to three times seize coveted spots on the bestsellers list of USA Today.

With her stories accomplishing feats she had never quite imagined, Madison is now able to live the life she loves—as a full-time writer. When not writing, she spends her days with her two children, a black lab named Sparky, and Jackson, a hilarious Jackson Chameleon who keeps her company while she plots her next series.

Madison is an active participant on Facebook. She loves to hear from readers and fans. Visit her on the web at:
http://madisonJohns.com
and be sure to follow her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/madisonjohns and
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to keep up with her exciting new Clan of the Werebear paranormal romance series.

Agnes Barton Senior Sleuths Mystery series in order

Armed and Outrageous

Grannies, Guns and Ghosts

Senior Snoops

 
Trouble in Tawas

Treasure in Tawas

Bigfoot in Tawas

Box Sets

Agnes Barton Senior Sleuth Mystery Series (Book 1-3)

Agnes Barton in Tawas Box Set (Books 4-6)

Agnes Barton/Kimberly Steele Cozy Mystery series:

Pretty, Hip & Dead

A Cajun Cooking Mystery

Target of Death

Sweet Romance

Pretty and Pregnant
(Kimberly Steele Novella)

Redneck Romance
(Kelly Gray Standalone)

Paranormal Romance

Hidden, (Clan of the Werebear Serial Book 1)

Discovered, (Clan of the Werebear Serial Book 2)

Betrayed (Clan of the Werebear Serial Book 3)

Grannies, Guns & Ghosts

Excerpt by Madison Johns

Chapter One

I, Agnes Barton, of sound mind and body, promise not to throttle my partner in crime, Eleanor Mason, no matter how much she tries to get a rise out of me. I must have lost my mind when I decided to partner with Eleanor in our new detective agency, Pink Ladies. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Truth be known, she had saved my life.
I wonder if I’ll ever hear the last of that?
Oh, who was I fooling? She’s the only one I’d want to snoop with. While we are quite the odd couple, we’re also a great team. So what if the official paperwork and licenses are out of date? That won’t stop us from investigating whatever we have a mind to.

Charter Arms couldn’t have made a better pistol than The Pink Lady. What woman wouldn’t love a pink, ultra-lightweight .38 Special? It’s perfect for women to tote around in their handbags. Not that you would call a carpet bag a handbag, by any means. Some of them are large enough to conceal an arsenal of weapons, if a body had a mind to do such a thing.

Unlike the fictional bounty hunter Stephanie Plum, I like to keep my sidearm handy. Nobody really gives a squat what a person of a certain age had concealed in their bags. I suppose most younger folks think we all knit and do all sorts of creative things. Oh, I have a creative mind all right, but not creative enough to dodge Eleanor. Poor dear wouldn’t know what to do without our adventures.

I had taken up residence in a camper of all things, parked in a camp-ground in East Tawas, Michigan, on the tranquil shores of Lake Huron. Lucky for me, I got a larger spot at the camp-ground and I had adjusted to living in a Winnebago. My house had been fire-bombed during our last case. It’s not so bad. I get to enjoy the misty lake as the sun rises, and some of the most spectacular sunsets in Michigan.

I eyed my cat, Duchess, and said, “I hope it doesn’t take ‘til winter for our house to be rebuilt.”

Duchess responded with, “Meow.”

“I know, girl, no mourning doves here,” I said to her. I strode by the mirror as I made my way into the bathroom and deep lines formed as I grimaced. I’m still wearing my pink bathrobe with pink ruffles, white sandals covering my feet. My unruly salt and pepper hair was tangled and I tried to work my fingers through the knots. Every dang morning it’s the same thing. My hair looks like a rooster did it in my sleep. Puffy dark circles were apparent, obviously from the restless slumber as my hip ached something fierce last night.

I made my way into the kitchen and poured coffee grounds into my new, fancy-dancy coffee maker that is supposed to make a good latte.
If I ever figure out how to use the damn thing!
It’s only seven in the morning and I’m already cussing, if only in my head at the moment.

I jumped and bumped against the counter and clutched my chest when my door vibrated nearly off the hinges.
Whoever could that be? And this early?

I pulled back the pink lace curtains to reveal a familiar pair of friendly blue eyes. Eleanor had her face pressed to the window with both her hands against my door like a lost puppy begging to be let in.

I yanked open the door and watched in amusement as she tried to steady herself, resembling a Weeble Wobble.
What is the saying? Weebles Wobble, but we don’t fall down.

“Have you been camped outside my door all night waiting for me to let you in?” I body-blocked the doorway. I wasn’t ready to let her in just yet.

She puffed up her chest, trying unsuccessfully to act offended. “Of course not, Agnes. I just didn’t want to bother you if your hot-shot lawyer man is here.” She giggled, her large belly jiggling. “Unless you want an audience.” Her eyes danced.

She wishes.

“Who?”

“You know perfectly well whom I’m talking about. The last time I came here the camper was rockin’ so hard that I thought there was an earthquake occurring inside.”

“It was earth-shattering.” I frowned. “Andrew Hart has gone back to wherever he came from, just as I knew he would.”

“Did he say when he’s coming back?”

She actually sounded sincere.  “I don’t know, nor do I care. I’m seventy-two and I don’t have the time for the entanglement a man would create in my life.” I cared all right, but I’d never let her know it. If I gave it too much thought I’d be no good to anybody. Andrew left, and I wish under better terms, but me being the stubborn woman I am, we left on a sour note. An argument over coffee creamer of all things, and I crossed the line when I insisted he stay in town. But no sense in regrets now. It’s too late.

Eleanor interrupted my thoughts. “Yes, you do, or else you wouldn’t be acting so moody today.”

“I’m not moody!” So much for making pledges to myself; I should have remembered who I was dealing with.

“Maybe I should buy you one of those mood rings and prove it to you.”

“That’s ridiculous, and you should know it interprets body temperature, not moods.”

Eleanor continued on completely ignoring the fact I wasn’t playing along. “You’d be black today, I think.”

I pushed El aside and closed the door behind me, descended the metal stairs and made my way to the picnic table, fidgeting with the floral arrangement in its center.