Ghost On Duty (Destiny Bay Cozy Mysteries Book 2) (2 page)

Could I convince him to back off?
 

Hah! It wasn’t likely. But I had to try. After all, I had a job. And an orchid.
 

I stopped at the bank, and then the post office. I had some things to mail to Nolan, my ex-boyfriend. We’d had a pretty rough split and I just wanted to give him back anything I still had that might have given him an excuse to drop by.

So it was almost noon as I drove up to Ned’s spooky house. Though still considered in North Destiny Bay, the house was situated almost a mile out of town, up on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, and I approached with a feeling of dread. Who knew what new tactics in bully handling I was going to have to learn to use on him?

“Too bad I never finished that course in Krav Maga,” I said chattily to Dante who was still hanging with me, giving me company in a way I’d never expected a ghost to do before. “I could use the back up comfort of knowing I had a few smooth defensive moves in my back pocket.”

Dante didn’t offer an opinion. I sighed. Maybe one day I’d be able to get an actual conversation going with the man/ghost. Maybe. But right now, I had to depend on my own wits to get me through this.
 

My comfort level with the situation didn’t get better as I walked up the path to the front door. I noticed there were no cars in the parking area to the side of the driveway. That meant there was no housekeeper, no cook, no gardener here today.

“
Nobody there to hear you scream
!”

That was my first, irrational thought on the matter. Then I gave myself a quick snarl of contempt.
 

“Don’t be a baby!”
 

This was a real life job and it was time to be an adult. I squared my shoulders and shot a look back at Dante for moral support. Okay then. I was ready.

A seagull shrieked into the air above the entryway, making me jump. Something eerie I couldn’t identify called from the forest behind the house. I looked in that direction and I thought I saw a flash of something red. But I looked again and it was gone.
 

Maybe a woodpecker? Maybe nothing. I probably imagined it.
 

Meanwhile, out over the ocean, fog was rolling in. I did a little deep breathing, trying to calm down as I went energetically up the wide stone steps, cursing the high heels that I wished I’d changed before coming out there.
 

And then I got to the front door and found it wide open, standing there, not moving. There was no sound coming from inside the house—no radio playing, no television filled with happy talk, no opera on the stereo. Not even a curse or two from his nasty parrot. Nothing but the sound of the surf against the cliffs, and a seagull’s cry here and there in the distance.
 

I looked back at the car, wishing Dante had come with me to the door. From this distance, I couldn’t even tell if he was still there. Maybe I really was on my own.
 

Oh well. C’est la vie.

Chapter Two

I looked in at what I could see from the doorway. Persian rugs. Tall windows. An entry table that seemed to hold a pile of mail. A long, winding stairway to the second floor. Paintings of ancestors on the walls. All things that had been there when I’d come out before, but I’d been too petrified by the man himself to really notice them.
 

Leaning in through the doorway, I called, “Hello? Mr. Barlow? Anybody home?”

No one answered. Not a sound changed. The only thing I could hear now was the thumping of my heart in my chest.
 

This was so not comfortable. Should I just walk in? And maybe catch the man walking around in his underwear or something? No. I didn’t like the thought of that picture. Was I going to have to go back to the council and tell them I’d chickened out?
 

Arrgghh! No way. I gave myself another boost of courage and stuck with it.
 

“Mr. Barlow?” I called again. My voice seemed to echo through his halls.
 

And suddenly—movement! A large, silver cat came dashing down the central stairway and swept out right past me, down onto the driveway.
 

“Meow!” it said, turning to look at me. “Meow!”

“Hi Kitty,” I said. I thought quickly. I had met this cat during my first visit to Ned Barlow, where he yelled a lot and I didn’t have time to take in much of the scenery. But I did remember this one.
 

“Hi Silver,” I said, recalling the cat’s name at last. Looking at the beautiful animal, it wasn’t that tough. “What’s wrong? Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Meow!” Silver took off down the driveway, heading for the cliff side over the ocean.
 

I hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. What the heck. I might as well see what Silver could tell me. My experience with cats was usually pretty good. They liked me and I liked them. My Aunt Bebe-who I was staying with- had a big black cat named Sami and we were great pals. So off I went, following a cat.
 

He circled back and rubbed against my ankles, then dashed off again. I followed—a bit wobbly on my heels, but game. What else was I going to do?

Mr. Barlow had done one thing right—he’d had a patio built at the edge of the cliff, a wide, flagstone-lined expanse that jutted out over the edge, giving a wonderful view of the surf below, crashing on the rocks, sending huge sprays of sea water surging up the face of the cliff. It was a spectacular view and I lingered, pulling my suit coat in against the cool breezes, staring out at the sea and thinking of eighteenth century galleons sailing past, sails full of ocean wind. A strong, handsome captain, nimble sailors hanging from the ropes, pirates, brigands and pieces of eight and a captured maiden dressed in a satin gown. All that stuff that romantic historical novels were filled with. I sighed.
 

But the cat was still crying, jumping up to run along the edge of the railing on a very precarious path, rubbing against the risers.
 

“What is it, kitty?” I asked him.
 

His answer was piteous and distressed, as though I just wasn’t listening. I got on my knees on the seat that ran around the perimeter and leaned out over the ocean, looking down.
 

And then, I saw it.
 

“Oh no.” I gasped, pulling back as though I could erase what I’d seen if I didn’t acknowledge it. But I knew very well that wasn’t going to work. What I’d seen was the owner of this property lying at the base of the cliff, stretched out over the jagged black rocks. I leaned out again, looking harder. Yes, it was Ned Barlow and he looked very, very dead. I reached for my cell phone but my hands were shaking so hard, I couldn’t operate it at first.
 

“Come on, come on,” I muttered as I worked at it.
 

Silver had stopped meowing. His task accomplished, he needed a break and took some time for a bit of a bath. I watched him seriously begin to attack the fur on his back leg as I waited for my 911 call to go through.
 

“Hello. Yes.” I gave them the address and told them what I’d seen. “Yes, it’s Ned Barlow’s home. I…I’m afraid it might be Ned Barlow on the rocks.”

I winced as I realized how that sounded, but it was too late to retract it now.
 

“Yes, please hurry.”

I closed my eyes and waited. It seemed like forever before I heard the sirens coming my way, and then I rose and walked toward the parking area to meet them. I knew what was coming next. I’d just gone through it before with a body in my aunt’s front yard.
 

“Here we go again,” I murmured to myself. And then I turned to greet the first car.
 

“I can’t believe you’ve gotten yourself involved in another …incident.”
 

My aunt Bebe was apoplectic. I was hanging out at her house until I got together enough money to get a place of my own. In fact, she was the one who’d wrangled the job for me. As a local businesswoman, she had contacts in town government places. Lucky for me.
 

“What are people going to think? You’re going to get a reputation. They’re going to avoid going to places where you’re seen, just in case you have murder on your mind. They’re going to begin crossing the street when they catch sight of you. A harbinger of doom!”

“You’re the one who got me this job,” I said back, being just as wildly illogical as she was. “I can’t help it if people in this town tend to keel over when they see me coming.”

Bebe glared at me, then sighed, her shoulders sagging, and we both calmed down. I knew I should give her some room and a bit of understanding. Her relationship with Michael, a local high school teacher who used one of her warehouses for projects by the 4H kids he was advising, was stumbling a little from what I could see—and she was definitely upset about it.
 

I had nothing but sympathy for her. I knew how it felt.
 

“At least you got a cat out of the deal,” she grumbled, sounding sarcastic. “Just what Sami always wanted. A live-in pal.”

I looked over at the patch of floor Silver had taken over for himself. He blinked at me, his baby blue eyes shining. I couldn’t help it—I did like that cat-even if he did put Sami’s nose out of joint.
 

“I couldn’t leave him there with all the forensics going on and all. Nobody else stepped forward, so I did.” I gave her a half-hearted smile. “Just be glad I didn’t volunteer to take the parrot as a bonus.”

 
Bebe frowned, leaning toward me and searching my eyes. “Mele, I’m sorry. I haven’t thought about what you’ve been going through today. Really honey…” She reached out and squeezed my hand. “Are you okay? What did they ask you? Was your handsome detective there?”

That gave me a quiver. “The man isn’t ‘mine’ in the first place. And in the second, he’s cold as ice these days. I don’t know what I did to turn him off, but he’s definitely not interested any longer.”

“Oh.” She made a face. “That’s too bad. I thought he was really cute.”

“Me too. Kind of. Cute is as cute does, though,” I said, downgrading the detective in my mind. “Oh well.” I frowned, thinking of what he’d said about my corsage. I’d thought it odd at the time. Maybe Bebe could clear it up. “So what do you call this orchid?” I asked her, pointing to it.
 

She glanced at it. “Uh…that’s a Phalaenopsis. Why?”

I bit my lip. “Because Detective McKnight named it when he saw it. Seems like a funny thing for a man like that to know, doesn’t it?”

She shrugged. “Maybe he grows orchids in his spare time,” she suggested airily.

I made a face. Cops don’t grow orchids. They follow their own rules and get yelled at by their chief and get thrown off the case. Or so TV has always told me. But orchids? I hardly thought that could be possible, but stranger things had turned up lately, so who knew?

I gave her a sideways look. “And speaking of men, what’s the deal with Michael lately? I haven’t seen him around for awhile.”

Actually, I had seen him, just not with her. Just the day before, when I went out to take a walk, I saw Michael driving off with Sherry in his car. That gave me pause. Sherry was very pretty and very young and very curvaceous. All the things that make for trouble when they come sashaying around between a man and his usual girl friend. A little clingy for my taste, but then I’m not a guy. For all I know, they like that sort of thing.

Sherry had played the “poor little me” victim card during our last escapade, claiming that the winery owner had seduced her and dropped her almost immediately thereafter. There was no denying that Kyle was a bad guy, but she had laid it on a bit thick, and Michael had seemed to fall right into her trap—wanting to take care of her.
 

Poor Bebe. It looked like she might have lost her man this time around. Still, she did have one card left to play. Bebe ran a huge cut flower operation and Sherry worked for her, managing the flower bundler group. It was an important job and it paid pretty well. If Bebe wanted to get tough, she obviously could make a real difference in Sherry’s life.
 

But knowing Bebe, I was afraid she was prepared to suffer in silence. Hmmm. It might be something to think about for the future. Things could use a little shaking up around here.

But right then, she didn’t want to talk about it and she changed the subject quickly.

“Okay, I need help with a very big decision.”

I nodded. “I’m ready to assist in any way I can,” I said lightly.
 

“Here it is. Should we get a Christmas tree this year?”

I blinked in surprise. “Don’t you usually?”

She looked like the question worried her. “I’ve had a little artificial tree for ages but last year it finally began to fall apart. So now I’ve got the dilemma—to tree or not to tree.”

“Why not?” I said helpfully. “But make it a real one this time.”

She frowned and I jumped in before she could give her reasons for fakery. “You’re a flower grower. You deal in the real thing all the time. Don’t you think it’s kind of lame to get a fake tree, when real plants are your life?”

She shook her head, looking bored with it all. “Oh, whatever. Now you’ve made it into such a big deal, I think I’ll take a pass after all.” She shrugged. “Too much trouble. Christmas is for kids anyway.”
 

I found myself studying her response. I didn’t really care, but there was something in her voice, something in her eyes, that told me she did on a certain level. I wondered why.
 

And then my cell chimed in with a message from the police, requesting my presence at the station house within the hour. I noticed it wasn’t from Detective McKnight. Oh well.

Chapter Three

I went over at the suggested time. I figured they wanted me to sign a few more papers because I was Activities Director and had gone for that meeting with Ned, so I was surprised to find out I wasn’t just a witness—I was a suspect!