Nothing to Ghost About (15 page)

I finally lost it. “Listen to me,” I
said again, this time loudly. “Keep away from me, John. Don’t ever
speak to me again!”

John looked at me with confusion.
“This is the strangest courtship I’ve ever been a part of,” he
said.

Mom burst into shrieks. “How could
you! My only daughter, making a public display of herself!” She ran
from the room, dabbing at her eyes in a dramatic fashion. Some of
the ladies shot glares at me, and ran after Mom.

“
See what you’ve done,” Ian
said. “Your poor mother, having an ungrateful child like you.” He
turned to those still in the room, those not consoling my mother.
“It must be the Demon Alcohol talking.”

They all nodded sagely.

“
Let me tell you; it soon
will be,” I announced to all and sundry. “I’m off to visit with my
good friend, the Demon Alcohol, right now.”

Chapter 21

I sighed as I picked up my cup of
green tea. I relished my quiet times alone. To my delight, Mom was
at church. She had organized a prayer group to pray against Sharon
Anderson’s lust for Phillip Baker. I wondered how that would play
out, given that Sharon and Phillip would be present, as would
Phillip’s wife, Katherine. I bet Sharon Anderson was sorry she had
ever confided in Mom.

Just as I touched the tea
to my lips, the doorbell sounded. Mom had asked Terence to install
a musical doorbell that played the hymn,
Only a Sinner
.

I sighed and set down my tea, staring
at the wisp of steam that wafted invitingly above it. At least
Duncan had taken care of Terence. When Duncan had gone to the
church cleaning bee to have a little chat with Terence, he found
his pockets crammed with cakes and cutlery, and his car filled with
the church silver. Terence wouldn’t be on Mom’s roof again anytime
soon.

I was halfway to the door when it rang
again. To the words of ‘Boasting excluded, pride I abase,’ I opened
the door, to see John Jones standing there.

“
Mom’s not here,” I
snapped, but as soon as I said the words, I realized he knew only
too well that Mom was at church.

He held up a rose that was
half-smothered in grocery store cellophane. “Good day,
Laurel.”

I put my hands on my hips. “What do
you want?”

He
frowned, glancing at the flower and back at me expectantly, as
if I might somehow have missed it being shoved under my nose. “Your
mother said if I gave you flowers, you might go to dinner with me.”
He continued to hold out the flower to my face.

This was all too much. “John Jones, I
will never go to dinner with you. Go away now, please. Don’t make
me get a restraining order on you. It’s getting late and I have to
feed the sheep.”

“
Sheep?” John shot me an
incredulous look.
“Well, I should
take care of the sheep for you. You should be
preparing dinner, while a man works with the animals.”

I took a step closer to him. “Stop
right now, John!” I said angrily. “I just want to be left alone.
There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell I will ever go to dinner
with you. All hell would freeze over first!”

As soon as I said the word ‘hell’ the
first time, John Jones clamped both hands firmly over his mouth. He
carefully laid the rose on the ground, and then backed away, as if
he were dealing with a wild animal.

I waited until I was sure he had
driven away. No doubt my tea was now cold, so I decided to go and
see the sheep. It was time to open the gate onto fresh pasture,
anyway.

“
Arthur! Martha! First one
here gets a treat!” I called as I waved the rose in the air. I had
no intention of taking the thing into the house. I opened the gate
to the fresh pasture, which was green and lush with new grass. The
sheep had already been eyeballing the field for the last couple
days. “Arthur! Martha!”

I wondered where they were. They
always ran over when they saw me. I’m sure they thought that my
sole purpose in life was to feed them at every available
opportunity. I finally saw them under the river oaks, and they were
not alone. Basil was with them.

Arthur and Martha were butting each
other out of the way, vying for Basil’s attention as he patted
their heads. The sheep noticed me and came running. Basil laughed
as he was promptly abandoned in favor of a woman with a fresh
flower.

“
Looks like they have a new
favorite,” Basil said, a hint of envy in his eyes as he watched the
sheep stare up at me expectantly.

“
Cupboard love, I’m
afraid.” I ripped the petals off the rose and gave shares to each
of them.
“
Sorry
guys, that’s all I’ve got today. I’d give you the stem, but I
didn’t have a chance to cut off the thorns.”

The sheep looked up at me with
disgust. They waddled straight back to Basil, seeking out his hands
and sniffing at his pockets to make sure he wasn’t holding out on
them.

Basil chuckled. “So you’re buying them
flowers now?”

I laughed.
“
No. Just sharing the overflow when my
swarms of suitors shower me with more than I could possibly fit in
the house.”

Basil patted Arthur’s back.
“
Thanks for having Arthur and Martha
here.”

“
You’re welcome,” I said. “
Arthur and Martha are such sweeties, and they keep the paddocks
trimmed nicely.”

He grinned.
“
And dispose of the gifts from your
rejected suitors?”

“
That too.” I smiled at
him. “It could be worse, though. At least he didn’t resort to
clubbing me and dragging me back to his cave.”

“
That bad?”

“
I’m sure it’s nothing a
little pepper spray wouldn’t fix.”

At once Basil’s face was filled with
concern. “Well, be careful. Please keep on your guard.”

“
I’m fine, really.” The
pepper spray joke must have been a little too much. “I’m just
letting off a little steam. John Jones is extremely annoying—and
that’s an understatement—but I’m sure he’s perfectly
harmless.”

Basil shook his head and
looked decidedly uncomfortable
. “I’ve had a
feeling lately that you might be in some sort of danger. Look, I
realize that sounds crazy.”

I hurried to reassure him. “It doesn’t
sound crazy at all. I firmly believe in that sort of
thing.”

Basil looked shocked. “You
do?”

I nodded. “For sure.
There’s a lot out there that we can’t prove. I’m very open-minded
about visions, premonitions—you name it. I believe in tarot, all of
that stuff.”
And I talk to ghosts,
I added silently. Not that I could ever tell
anybody that one. I’d find myself questioned about what the voices
tell me to do, and likely get a pretty pill to make them go away.
Not that the stuff would work for my ‘condition’. You can’t
medicate a genetic gift of sight. They’d already tried that when I
was a young child, thanks to my mother.

Basil rubbed his chin. “That’s good to
hear.”

“
It is?” I said lamely. I
wondered if Tara’s passing theory was correct. Had Basil’s
ex-fiancée been fervently against the paranormal, and was that why
he was now so wary?

“
I’ve had premonitions
since I was young.” His voice was hesitant, and he avoided direct
eye contact with me. It almost sounded as if he was confessing to
doing something wrong. “They’ve always come true. I wish I knew how
to explain it without sounding entirely insane.”

“
It sounds perfectly normal
to me,” I said hurriedly.

“
You’re sure?” Basil’s
expression was skeptical.

“
Absolutely. You’d be
surprised.” I thought for a moment and then added, “And a good
friend of mine is a witch.”

Basil’s mouth dropped open, and I
wondered if I’d gone too far. He stared at me for what seemed like
forever, before he spoke. “And you approve?”

“
Of course I approve,” I
said with a shrug. “Do
you
have a problem with it?”

Basil shook his head. “Not at all.” He
scratched his chin some more. “I’m glad you didn’t react badly to
me telling you that I have premonitions. I didn’t want to tell you,
but I couldn’t think of another way to convince you to stay
careful.”

“
Your word is good enough
for me. I promise that I won’t take any unnecessary
risks.”

“
That’s about all anyone
can hope for, I suppose.” Basil reached out and laid his hand
gently on my shoulder. A crackle, like a small burst of
electricity, ran through me and I jumped. Basil snatched back his
hand, whether from feeling the crackle or from my reaction, I
couldn’t tell.

Just then his phone rang. “I’m
expecting a call from a lawyer. I’ll have to take it if it’s him,”
he said, pulling the phone from his pocket. His tone sounded
regretful, unless that was just wishful thinking on my
part.

He looked at the caller I.D. “Sorry,
Laurel; it’s him. I’ve got to take this.”

He answered the phone and hurried
away, leaving me staring after him.

Chapter 22

I peered at my list.

Along the top of the paper I had
written, ‘Suspects’. Under that I had written four names: Anna
Stiles, Helen the mayor’s wife, the mayor himself, and Donna
Kerr—with or without Preston’s brother.

My stomach rumbled loudly. I had not
eaten that morning unless you count three cups of coffee, and now I
was on caffeine overdrive.

I thought for a moment, tapping my pen
on the desk. I decided I needed to narrow my list of suspects. I
would start with Anna, since I had written her name down first. It
was no secret that I disliked the woman. On top of that, she was
clearly attracted to Basil. But still, I figured she was the least
likely suspect. I wasn’t even sure she really belonged on the list,
but my dislike of her was going to force me to keep her there until
I was certain.

I called Tara.

“
What’s going on?” Tara
asked.

“
I need to know something,”
I said. “I was hoping you could help me.”

“
We only just spoke this
morning. Is this a question you’re asking me because my husband is
a cop?”

“
Yes.”

There was a moment’s silence before
Tara spoke again. “Are you going to end up attacked by another
crazy person because of these questions?”

“
Maybe,” I said truthfully.
“I hope not, though.” I thought of Basil’s premonition, and
shuddered.

Tara groaned loudly. “Okay, what do
you need to know?”

“
Has Duncan said anything
more about the connection between the murders of Alec Mason and
Preston Kerr?”

“
He’s been talking about
the case,” Tara said. “He isn’t too impressed with the two
detectives who are leading on it.”

“
Why not?”

“
He says they seem willing
to just take it all at face value. They think the first victim was
killed by someone in his gang.”

“
Gee, that’s pretty
obvious.”

“
True,” Tara said. “And as
I told you before, it was a stolen car with no DNA or fingerprints
in it. Sorry I don’t have more for you.”

“
No, it’s fine. I just
wanted to see where the cops were at.”

After I hung up, I spent a few more
minutes staring at my list. I kept ending up back on Anna’s name.
If I were going to start there, I needed to get a move on. Business
was still bad after Preston Kerr’s murder, and the call with Tara
had only confirmed the fact that the police were no closer to an
arrest.

I wanted to eat before I left, but
that meant going to Mom’s house. My stomach rumbled again, so I
drove to the healthy café. Soon I was in my car guzzling down a
green smoothie.

It was a thirty-minute drive to Anna’s
paper. I was nervous. What if she wasn’t there? What if she was,
and refused to speak to me? It was a dilemma, but I had no choice.
Business was going downhill and no doubt would continue to do so
until the police arrested someone for Preston Kerr’s murder. I
could not afford to wait around for that.

By the time I walked into the
building, I was in an irritable mood. The lobby was tired and worn,
all shades of beige, gray, and faded olive green. The only natural
light came in through the crooked slats in ancient metal venetian
blinds covering a small window. A bored looking receptionist was
speaking with an angry customer who was yelling about her papers
not being delivered.

There was a closed glass door on my
left, and a little closer was a curved staircase. I decided to
bypass the receptionist and go up the stairs. I figured the
journalists were up there.

I was right. The creaky old staircase
opened onto a long rectangular room filled down the left side with
cubicles. To the right were desks with people working. I saw Anna
at once. She was in the cubicle closest to me, her door open. A
landline phone was held to her ear, pinched between her neck and
her shoulder. She was typing on a laptop.