Audrey Claire - Libby Grace 01 - How to be a Ghost (8 page)

Standing in the hall, I mentally prepared and then threw myself into the role of a lifetime—that of a mother alive and kicking. I flew into the kitchen with a bright smile on my face, arms outstretched to Jake. When I say flew, I mean I moved fast. My feet did touch the floor like a regular person, but I had no idea how long I could hold this form, so I had to get in quick.

“Jake, sweetie. I’m sorry I had to take care of some business, but I’m here. Give me a hug. Oh, I mean I also picked up a bug or something too, so you shouldn’t cling too much.” My mouth moved faster than my steps, and I suppose if Jake weren’t so happy and relieved to see me he might have thought I looked and sounded creepy. I spoke a mile a minute, thanking him for being a good boy, thanking Monica for taking care of him, and asking her to keep helping out since I had a touch of the flu or whatever.

The second I stepped into the kitchen my little boy sprang from his chair and leaped into my arms. Forget the fact that he had been telling me he was getting too old for all the hugs and kisses. His spindly arms locked around my neck, bringing tears to my eyes. I made sure to pause in my diatribe to kiss him several times, loving the softness of his cheek and wishing with everything in my being that I could smell him. I know that sounds weird, but it was true.

For her part, Monica hadn’t moved or spoken. Her brown eyes were wide with fear and wonder. She nodded dumbly when I asked her about staying over to help with Jake. A full five minutes had passed when I felt my energy and focus waning. With reluctance, I pushed Jake back and turned him toward the table.

“Finish your cereal, sweetie,” I instructed him. “I need to uh…grab something from the bedroom.”

“
Mom
,” Jake whined. “You’re not leaving, right?”

I hesitated at the door, and pain gripped my chest. A smile pasted on my face, I met his desperate gaze. “No, of course not. I’ll be right here. I promise.”

Zipping along the hall, I let myself fade. When I reached my bedroom, I sort of hung in the air, my eyes shut. Seconds later, Monica appeared in the doorway.

“Are you here?” she whispered.

I touched her arm, and she bit off a scream. “Don’t do that!”

“Sorry.” I let her seem me, and she stared as if it were her first time.

“I thought it was all a dream.”

“I wish it was,” I assured her. “Nothing felt better than to hug Jake.”

“I don’t know how you’re going to pull this off. What was that like five minutes?”

I frowned at her. “You promised, Monica.”

She held her hands up, palms facing me. “I’m not taking my word back. I’m just worried—about both of you. It can’t be healthy for Jake to have you flitting in and out of his life. And if you’re—”

“Don’t.”

I saw the stubborn set to her mouth. “If you’re dead, Libby, he needs to face it. I will be right there beside him, helping him through it.”

“Thanks.” My tone was sour. “If I’m…dead, I haven’t moved on for a reason, and I’m going to do everything I can to stay in Jake’s life as long as possible.”

“In other words you’re going to haunt your own child.”

“If I have to.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll help you all I can, but I’m still holding you to one week, Libby.”

“That’s all I need,” I said with more bravado than I felt.

Chapter Five

Success! Between Monica and me we got Jake off to school much happier than he had been the day before. I smothered him with my best loving and let my friend drive him. As far as Jake knew he had his mama back, and that was most important. When I was stronger, I hoped to ride in the car with Monica if not enter the school itself. So many young children jostling me about would not be good. Who knew, I might solve the mystery surrounding my body’s disappearance and be back to routine tomorrow. The fact that the morning had gone well gave me confidence it would happen and soon.

As I puttered around my house thinking of my first move in investigating the murder, I realized my priority needed to be to talk to Clark. He needed to know I was not on the run somewhere, avoiding the law. To issue an All Points Bulletin made me feel like a criminal, and while I couldn’t remember exactly what I had done, I knew myself, and I wouldn’t harm another human being.

I floated through to the kitchen and paused at sight of the Keurig machine, a wedding gift, which I had retained when Mason and I divorced. I loved my morning cup of Gloria Jean’s Butter Toffee, a shot of caffeine to wake me but sweet enough to feel like I was indulging. Of course, my spirit didn’t need physical sustenance. I had no hunger pangs, but it seemed that half of craving anything was psychological. I missed it because I remembered my emotions when enjoying the brew.

Monica had left a notepad and pen on the table with a list started for groceries. I materialized and sat down before it, wondering about using physical objects. My fingers curled fine around the pen, but it also felt foreign, almost like I was not holding the pen but observing it. I tried writing
sugar
and frowned at the result. My handwriting was different.

I flipped to a blank sheet and wrote at the top: Who would want to hurt George.

1.   The mayor

2.

I left the two blank. I had no idea who George’s friends were, who he was closest to. I knew George enjoyed going to Gatsky’s and cornering anyone who would listen but nothing other than that. I recalled someone saying George handled home improvement, but what did that have to do with me? I might ask him for advice, but I had no extra money to pay him. Each time I had found a need to enter his store, he was talkative but friendly. Could anyone hate him enough to kill him, and if they did, what had he done to deserve it?

From watching the news, I knew police often first suspected the spouse, so I needed to start there. If Olivia was the cause of George’s murder or someone did it to get back at her, I intended to uncover the truth about it. First, I needed to clear Clark’s mind about myself.

Without thinking, I reached for the cordless phone on the table and picked it up. I had dialed through to the police station, which I had programmed into the phone for emergencies. Not until an officer came on the line did I remember Ian’s instruction that I couldn’t use the phone. I’m not sure if it was the power of suggestion, but the second I realized, I heard a small crackle in my ear. The officer called out “Hello? Anyone there?”

“Can you hear me?” I said.

“Son of a gun—” He wailed as if I’d done damage to his eardrum. The phone began to smoke next to my ear and popped and crackled when I laid it down on the table. Seeing the destruction got to me because it solidified my being cut off from the world. I pounded a fist on the table in frustration, thinking I would need to buy a new phone. Something sparked in my peripheral vision, and I turned my head to gaze at the wall. Nothing out of the ordinary caught my eye. Then I winced. The owl shaped clock made of shellacked wood that Jake had carved for me with his dad had stopped ticking. However, it wasn’t the clock that worried me or that had sparked. The light had come from the heating and central air vent above the clock.

Dread filled me thinking about the cost if there was a problem with the A/C. I almost grabbed a chair to stand on and then opted for what made more sense, to float up to eye level with the vent. Peering through the grate, I could make out nothing at first. Then I leaned closer and startled myself when the metal slats no longer barred my vision. What met my gaze made me cry out and shoot backward a few feet.

A video camera.

A thousand thoughts ran through my mind. Who placed it there? Mason before he moved out? If so, why would he do that? As a part of a home security system? We had never had a home security system, nor had we needed one. As far as I knew Mason had never mentioned setting one up. Even if he did without telling me, why hide it behind the grate?

Then I began to wonder if Mason had put the camera there, did that mean it still fed him recordings of me and Jake? Of me the days I had left my room in nothing but a bra and panties when I needed clothes from the dryer? The pervert! He would not get away with this. I would see to that.

I made myself solid and slid a chair over to the grate, but then I couldn’t manipulate the screws to open the grate, as if I didn’t have enough strength even using a screwdriver. I had to leave it until Monica came home, but waiting made me nervous, so I drifted into other parts of the house.

At one in the afternoon, the kitchen door opening brought me out to the hall, and I sighed in relief to see Monica. “I’m glad you’re here. There’s something I have to show you.”

To her credit, she only jumped a little at my sudden appearance, and she followed me into the kitchen. Before long, my best friend rained curses down on Mason’s head at seeing the camera. She practically wrenched the grate off the wall with a violent twisting of the screws. “That sneak,” she spat. “I’m going to string him up by his—”

“Monica,” I interrupted, “we don’t know it was Mason.”

“Who else would it be?” she demanded, holding the camera by her fingertips.

I pointed to the cupboard where I kept the freezer bags, and she nabbed one to drop the camera into as we had both seen on detective TV shows. “We need to take it to the police,” I said. “In fact, I have to go there to talk to Clark anyway.”

“Clark?” Monica’s eyebrows shot up, and she smirked.

I folded my arms over my chest. “Don’t get ideas, you. I’m not in the position to have anything to do with the chief of police, but you remember we all went to school together.”

“Oh yeah.” Monica seemed disappointed. “Well, how are you going to go there? He’ll find out about you, and can you even carry this?” She held up the tiny camera. The device seemed to weigh little from its appearance, but in losing my body I had lost my purse and my cell phone. I couldn’t even use the cordless without busting it.

I thought over my options. “That reminds me. Can you pick up a new phone?”

“What’s wrong with the one you have?”

“Never mind. Please?”

“Sure.”

I considered what to do about the camera. “You could bring the camera to the station, and then I will take it from you and pretend I brought it there.”

“Isn’t that convoluted?”

“Yes, but I have to look like I’m being cooperative. I’ll go just before it’s time to pick up Jake and tell him I can’t talk long.”

Monica shook her head as if she thought I had misplaced my brain. “What excuse are you going to give about being missing and about your car, which is still in the hardware store’s lot I might add?”

“I’ll think of something.”

She agreed, and I smiled. That’s what I loved about Monica. She had always been willing to cooperate in hair-brained schemes at the drop of a hat ever since I had known her. Of course, she was usually the one who came up with them, but still quite a useful friend.

Some time later, I swept into the police station insisting on seeing the chief as soon as possible. To my utter relief, he must have heard my voice and wrenched open his door to step out. If I were not so nervous my focus would fizzle, I might have been intrigued at the pink in his cheeks and the way he said my name. Instead, I spoke a mile a minute as I had done when I first spoke with Jake. I didn’t give Clark much chance to respond but fled by him into his office. After he shut the door, I worried maybe I shouldn’t have let him do that. Then I pushed all worries from my head. I had a job to do and being afraid would only hinder it.

I thumped the baggie on his desk. “Chief, I found that in my kitchen grate, and if my ex-husband put it there, I want him arrested.”

His eyes widened, and he picked up the camera. I moved closer as he studied it, and he shivered then stepped closer to the window. I flinched. Somehow I needed to offset the cold I gave off. Sunlight gleamed on the silver and black surface of the camera as Clark examined it.

“This is hi-tech stuff,” he muttered. “It’s busted though.”

I bit my lip. “I found it like that.”

He nodded and then set the camera on the desk. His gaze locked with mine. “Where have you been for the last day and a half, Libby? What can you tell me about George Walsh being found dead in his hardware store?”

I thought I was ready for the questions, but I wasn’t. Clark’s straightforward approach almost threw me off my concentration, but I held on with rigid control and began my lie. “I was tending to a sick relative. I hadn’t heard of George’s death until after I got back this morning.”

His gaze narrowed on my face, and I felt it grow warm. “Your car is in his lot. You were at the store, and I have a witness who said they saw you run from the store around the time coroner lists as George’s time of death.”

I sucked in a breath, prepared for this. “I got the call unexpectedly, and when I went to start my car, it wouldn’t crank up. I have had that old beast a good ten years. I hurried home, made arrangements for Monica to watch Jake, and borrowed a friend’s car.”

“What friend?” he asked.

“Huh?” I licked my lips. Time was running out.

“What friend let you borrow the car? I figure if it was Monica’s you would have said so.”

I grumbled in silence. Silly slip. Then placed a fist on my hip. “Are you implying I don’t have any friends other than Monica, Clark Givens, because I don’t appreciate it one bit.”

I’m not sure what it was that made him back off from that line of questioning, but he did, and I could have wept in relief. I had no idea if Ian owned a car or if he would lie for me to the police and say I borrowed it.

Clark asked me a few more questions, including the name of this imaginary relation that suddenly became sick. “I have never heard of you having any other family, and your mom passed some years ago.”

I blinked several times and turned away. No matter how much time passed, I missed Mama. She had been all I had, and she supported me when I married Mason, but she had let it be known she did not like him. I remember she had said at the time, “I didn’t bring you to Summit’s Edge to make this mistake.”

Mama and I had moved to the small town when I was just a baby. My father was a passing fling, a man who had died in a tragic accident before she could tell him about her pregnancy with me, and we had no other family. So Clark wasn’t off base with his assumptions, but I had not intention of telling him that. I made up an elderly relative, giving her a name I would have liked should I have enjoyed family. To my consternation, Clark took down the name and snapped his book shut. I hoped he wouldn’t look too closely into my lie, but I knew it was wishful thinking.