Who Invited the Ghost to Dinner: A Ghost Writer Mystery (12 page)

“Um...yeah…” Mike closed my door and got in on his side before answering. “Someone wrote me a note.”

“What do you mean someone wrote you a note?”

He looked embarrassed. “I was sitting at my desk when one of my pens floated in the air, and then started writing on a piece of paper.”

“Mac,” I said knowingly.

“Yeah. He’s got a weird sense of humor. He said something about Little Mary Sunshine.”

I tried not to laugh. “Well, I’m glad he was able to tell you something was wrong.”

I saw my car sitting in the driveway when we reached my house. “How did my car get here?”

“Officer Reagan picked up Randy, who drove it over here for you. He said to tell you not to worry about dinner; he’s bringing something over.”

“Dinner? I didn’t even have lunch,” I said as my stomach growled.

“It’s almost three. I’ll fix you a snack once I get you settled.”

“Honestly? I just want to lay down for a little while. I’m tired.”

“Dr. Murphy said I need to keep an eye on you, just to make sure your headache doesn’t turn into something worse.”

“I’m fine, really.”

Mike parked and got out. He came around the other side and helped me out of his truck. “Don’t get comfortable. We aren’t staying.”

“What do you mean?”

“Knowing your mother, she’s going to come over here at some point tonight, just to check on you. I thought it might be better if you stayed at my place instead. No one will bother you, and you’ll be able to get some rest.”

“Are you sure?” I said as he took my keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. “And how did you get my keys?”

“Randy dropped them off at the hospital after he brought your car here,” he replied, unlocking the door. “Let’s pack enough for tonight.”

I made my way slowly down the hall to my bedroom, Mike right behind me. When I started to bend over to pick up my overnight bag, he stopped me and grabbed it for me. While he unzipped the bag, I pulled out underwear, socks, T-shirts, lounging pants and jeans. I figured I should at least be comfortable. I put the clothes in the bag, and he got my things out of the bathroom. I stuck my iPad into the bag as well, although I didn’t think I was really going to be looking at it.

“Anything else you need or want?” Mike asked as he zipped up the bag.

“Just a couple of pillows,” I said, pointing to the two I wanted. “You know, I don’t really need someone to watch me. Dr. Murphy said I didn’t have a concussion.”

He pretended not to hear me as he took my things out to his truck, putting them behind the seats while I got in. After he turned on my security alarm and locked the door, he joined me in the truck. “How are you doing?” he said as he back out of the driveway.

“Tired and a little sore for some reason.”

“We’ll be at my place in a few minutes, and you can stretch out on the couch until Randy brings over the food.”

“I feel a bit guilty.”

“Why?”

“You need to be focusing on this murder investigation, not taking care of me.”

“I can do both. In fact, let me stop by the station right quick, pick up a few files, then we’ll be good to go.”

He whipped into the station parking lot, and I had to grab a hold of the handlebar on the passenger side to keep from falling over. “Um, hello, woman with a headache here. Are you trying to give me whiplash, too?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said. “I almost overshot the entrance. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

What did he think I was going to do, take his truck for a joyride? I felt the back of my head, touching the bandage that covered the eight stitches I had needed. But I also felt the lack of hair. It had been a long time since I had worn my hair short, but I was going to have to get a haircut so my hair wouldn’t look uneven.

There was a tap on my window, and I looked over to see Officer Reagan standing there.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she said after I rolled down the window. She noticed the bandage and winced. “I also wanted to apologize for what I said earlier.”

“You mean when you accused me of hitting myself in the head?”

“Yeah, that,” she said, looking embarrassed. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You were thinking that you needed to make an impression on your new boss. Solving a murder case is certainly one way to do it.”

“Accusing the boss’ girlfriend of injuring herself doesn’t help.”

“No, probably not. But Mike is a fair man. He won’t hold it against you. Nor will I, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“A little,” she admitted. “What did the doctor say?”

“Eight stitches and a headache. Nothing too serious.”

She saw Mike come out the front door. “I better go. I just wanted to apologize and to make sure you were all right.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. And don’t worry so much. Just do your best, and don’t hesitate to ask for help if you need it. It’s better to ask than to accuse the wrong person of murder.”

“I’ll remember that,” she said as Mike got in the truck. “Good to see you, Chief. Thanks again, Ms. Shaw.”

“Cam, and you’re welcome.”

She nodded and walked quickly inside.

“What was that about?” Mike asked as I rolled up the window.

“Just girl talk.”

“Could you hold these for me?” he said, handing me a large stack of files.

“What’s all this?”

“Witness statements mostly. I’d like to construct a timeline of events from last night.”

“That’s a good idea. Have they made any progress today?”

“No,” he replied, “no one saw anything suspicious, and they didn’t hear anything last night. It’s like Susan just magically appeared behind the couch.”

“Well, if she was killed during intermission, there was a lot of noise in the main room. Coffee and desserts were being served, people were talking and walking around. All of that would have drowned out any grunting, groaning and a body falling to the floor.”

“Yes, but surely someone from the cast or crew would have heard something.”

“There is someone we could talk to,” I said cautiously.

“Really? Who?” Mike said as he turned down his street.

“Promise to keep an open mind?”

Mike groaned as he pulled into his driveway. “Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.”

“Depends on what you think I’m going to say.”

“You’re talking about your ghost.”

“Ghosts, actually.”

He banged his head on the steering wheel for a minute. “Why can’t I have a normal girlfriend?”

I got out of the truck, slammed the door, and started stomping toward the front door.

Mike grabbed my bag and pillows out of the truck, then unlocked the front door and helped me inside. After making sure I was comfortable on the couch, he went back to the truck to get the files.

“Why don’t you change into something more comfortable?” he suggested when he came back inside. “It might help you relax a little.”

He had a point, so I went into the spare bedroom to change. I put my comfy clothes on the bed and slowly started to change. I had just taken off my shirt when I looked up and saw Mac standing on the other side of the room. I screamed bloody murder.

Mike came busting into the room, his Colt in his hand. “What’s the matter?” he said, looking around the room.

“What’s he going to do, shoot a ghost?” Mac snickered.

“Get out,” I said to the mischievous ghost.

“Who are you talking to?” Mike asked me.

“I keep forgetting that you can’t see him. Mac is standing over there by the window.”

“Great, a pervert ghost,” Mike muttered.

“Hey, I am not a pervert!” Mac replied. “I didn’t know she was in here changing.”

“Both of you, go wait in the other room,” I said.

Mac vanished, and Mike closed the door behind him as he left. I quickly finished changing clothes, hoping I could keep my balance and remain upright. I opened the door and went back into the living room, where I only saw Mike. “Apparently, you offended Mac when you called him a pervert,” I said as I sat back down. “He’s not here.”

“Does he do that often?”

“Do what?”

“Just appear out of nowhere.”

“Oh yes, all the time. He seems to enjoy scaring the heck out of me, although it’s the first time he’s walked in on me changing clothes. I hope he doesn’t make that a habit.”

“I would really appreciate it if he wouldn’t pop in at my house.”

“I can’t stop him from showing up, Mike. Besides, we need to talk to Lillian, and we can only do that if Mac brings her to me. Speaking of Mac, he came to see me in the ER. I asked him to bring Lillian with him on his next visit.”

“Why do we need to talk to Lillian?”

I tried to stifle a yawn. “Because she saw the person who hit me this morning.”

“Why don’t you lay down?” Mike suggested, handing me the pillows I had brought with me.

“We need to talk to Lillian,” I yawned again. “Maybe she saw something last night, too.”

Mike pulled the fleece blanket off the back of the couch and draped it on top of me. “You can talk to her later. Go take a nap.”

“Okay,” I said, closing my eyes.

“And then we’ll have a chat about that ghost of yours. He’s got to go.”

Good luck with that, I thought as I fell asleep.

Chapter 16

I
woke up on my own, feeling a bit disoriented. I didn’t recognize anything in my living room, but then I remembered I was at Mike’s house, not mine. So where was he? I tossed the blanket aside and slowly stood up.

Walking into the kitchen, I found Mike sitting at the dining room table, files spread out everywhere. He was writing something down on a yellow legal pad in front of him, muttering about unreliable witnesses.

“Having a problem?” I asked him as I sat down.

“Cam? What time is it?” He looked up at the wall clock. “Oh geez, I’m sorry, I forgot to wake you up. You’ve been asleep for two hours. How are you feeling?”

“Head hurts a little. What I really need is a Dr Pepper and something to eat.”

“No problem,” Mike said. He got up, filled a glass with ice, took a soda can from the pantry, and poured it. Handing it to me, he grabbed an oats and honey granola bar from a box on the counter. “Here you go. Randy should be here shortly with dinner.”

“Thank you,” I said, gratefully taking a drink. Ah, nectar of the gods right there.

“You’re welcome,” he said as he sat down again.

“Any luck with your timeline?”

“A little. What time did you get there last night?”

“Around five. I helped Mother do some last minute things before I changed in one of the dressing rooms.”

“Was there anyone in the dressing room?”

“Didn’t you read my statement?”

“I haven’t got to yours yet,” Mike said.

“I knocked on the first door I came to, and it happened to belong to Rachel Newton.”

“Isn’t she the one who was giving Diane a hard time during dress rehearsal?”

I nodded.

“Did you two talk about anything in particular while you were changing?”

Taking another drink, I thought about it for a moment. “Not really. She fixed my hair for me…”

“She did a great job,” Mike said, smiling at me. “I thought you looked beautiful.”

I blushed. “Thank you. Anyway, she said she used to work at a beauty parlor, and that she was homesick. I suggested she call her mother just to say hello, and then Richard showed up.”

“What did he want?”

“Something to do with the show. I didn’t pay much attention. I excused myself and left.”

“What did you do after that?”

“Waited for you to show up.” I took another drink. “I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you believe what Stephen Showalter told us today?”

“About what?”

“That Joey was trying to talk him into producing a play in Dallas to keep Susan from leaving.”

Mike thought about it for a minute. “If Joey believed that it was the only way to keep his wife from leaving him, then yeah, it makes sense.”

“I think you’ve been hanging around with me too long,” I said. “That doesn’t sound like an answer you would have given me a few months ago.”

“I’ve learned to look a little deeper,” he replied. “Do you think Stephen lied about what they talked about?”

“I think we need to talk to Joey,” I said.

“No,
I
need to talk to Joey,” he said. “You aren’t doing anything. And while we’re at it, we need to talk about you getting involved in my investigations.”

“I know, I know. Don’t stick my nose into your business. I’m just a writer.”

“Look, what happened today shouldn’t have happened at all.”

“It’s not like I went there intentionally looking for trouble, Mike. It just happened.”

“But it shouldn’t have happened at all,” he repeated. “Being in dangerous situations is part of my job, not yours. I live with it every day. And even though I know you don’t say anything, I know you worry about me. But dealing with certain types of criminals adds an extra element of danger. Criminals don’t always think logically. They’ll go after anyone if it will help their end game. I think you like the thrill of investigating because you like figuring things out. Probably too many years of watching ‘
NCIS
’ and ‘
CSI
’. But those shows are just pretend. This is real life, with very real consequences. I think what happened today proves that.”

“I know.”

“Well, you have to decide if this is the kind of life you want. It’s not always rainbows and sunshine. There’s bullets and death. Bad guys every day, not just once a week. And things aren’t always wrapped up in a nice, neat bow at the end of the hour.” He reached over and took my hand in his. “I know that I can’t always keep you safe. You’re fiercely independent; so am I. If I tell you to butt out, you’ll just gather your ragtag band of snoops and try to help me anyway.”

“You’re probably right.”

He sighed. “We work well together, and I want us to keep working well together. I’m probably going to keep asking you to stay out of my investigations. But I want you to promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“When you feel that you can’t butt out, then at least tell me what’s going on so I can help.”

“So you’re going to let me help you from now on?”

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I? It’s the only way to keep you safe. Besides, there are going to be times when your special type of skills might come in handy. But try to resist getting involved as much as possible. Are you okay with that?”

I shrugged. “I’ll do my best. That’s all I can promise.”

“Just don’t go off by yourself. Take someone with you, and if you can’t, at least let someone know where you’re at. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The doorbell rang, cutting off that discussion for a moment. Mike got up and answered the door. I could hear him talking to someone, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying. When he came back, Randy was behind him, carrying take out from an Italian restaurant.

“I thought you said she looked like death warmed over,” Randy said to Mike as he put the bags on the counter. “Pretty sure death has looked better than this.”

“Very funny,” I retorted. “Don’t quit your day job.”

He gave me a hug. “I heard the full story from your parents, but Mike’s officer wouldn’t give me any details. How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better.”

Mike gathered up his files and carried them out of the room while Randy started taking containers out of the bags. “I got you chicken parmigiana. I hope that’s all right,” he said, placing the container in front of me.

“Anything sounds good to me right now,” I said.

They joined me at the table with their food, and for a few minutes we ate in silence. “What are people saying around town about the murder, Randy?” Mike asked.

“A lot of talk about who they think might have killed her,” he replied, picking up a breadstick and breaking it in half. He offered me half of it.

“Who’s in the lead?” I said.

“It’s a tie between Joey Ingram and the Silvery Ghost of the Theatre.”

I almost choked on the breadstick. “They think a ghost killed her?”

“Well, think about it,” he replied. “Susan was killed between the first and second acts, in a building full of people. No one saw or heard anything. The murderer slipped in and out without being seen. Now wouldn’t you assume that she was killed by a ghost?”

Mike shook his head. “Great, a paranormal murderer.”

“Better not let Mac hear you say that,” I warned him. “He’s already mad at you.”

“You mean the Vegas ghost?” Randy said. “He’s been around?”

“You could say that,” Mike said, sounding a bit miffed.

“Uh, oh, what happened?”

“That ghost is a pervert,” Mike said.

“He is not a pervert,” I replied.

“Then why was he in the room when you were changing clothes?”

“He didn’t know I was changing clothes when he popped in.”

“Well, he should have popped right back out when he realized it!” Mike said hotly.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Randy said, “time out. Mac saw you naked?!”

“I was not naked. I was changing my shirt when he showed up. It freaked me out to see him suddenly there, so I screamed. Mike came running with his gun drawn. When I realized it was Mac, Mike called him a pervert, and Mac left in a huff.”

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Cam. Mac just showed up at the wrong time.”

“See, I told you so.”

“Can we change the subject?” Mike asked, getting up to refill our drinks. “What else have you heard, Randy?”

“That no one has seen Joey since last night during the first act.”

Mike put a fresh glass of Dr Pepper in front of me as he sat down. “I’ve had my officers looking for him today, and they can’t find him. I wonder if there’s anywhere he would go to get away from it all for a few days.”

“You mean like a cabin or some lakefront property?” I said.

“Exactly.”

“Why don’t you just call his father?” I suggested.

“Clinton Ingram is what, late seventies, early eighties? You want me to call him, out of the blue, tell him that his daughter-in-law is dead, and would he just happen to know where his son is? Do you want me to give the man a heart attack?”

Randy scoffed. “Have you seen Clinton lately? That man is as healthy as a horse, and he looks like he’s only seventy. Time has certainly been kind to him.”

“I thought Clinton and Joey were on the outs,” I said as I started to get up. Randy stopped me, and took the empty container from me. “Wasn’t there a disagreement about a business deal or something a few years ago?”

“I vaguely remember something about that,” Mike replied.

“Do you think it had something to do with Susan’s death?” I said. “Surely not. That’s a long time to hold a grudge.”

“You can sit there and say that with a straight face after what happened with the Ashtons?” Randy said incredulously. “Artie Shatton held that grudge for over fifty years.”

“Good point,” I conceded.

“Was Clinton on the guest list last night?” Mike asked me.

“Didn’t Grandma Alma mentioned something about him being there? You’d have to ask Mother for the list to confirm that.

“Hold on a minute,” Randy said, “I’ll be right back.” He got up, went into the other room, and came back with a manila folder, which he handed to Mike. “Mrs. Shaw knew that you were taking care of Cam tonight, so she stopped at the bookstore on her way home. She left this with me, asked if I’d make sure you got it.”

“What is it?”

“The guest list you asked for.”

Mike handed it to me. “Could you look for Clinton’s name?”

“Are you kidding? I don’t think I could focus on that right now.”

“Right, sorry,” Mike said, opening the folder. He scanned the first page. “Here he is. Hm, that’s odd.”

“What?” Randy and I said together.

“Clinton’s name is marked out, and Joey and Reed’s names were written in. I wonder why.”

“Oh buggers!” I said, shaking my head. “In all the excitement, I forgot that Mother told me Reed was sitting with Joey. Grandma Alma mistook him for Clinton.”

“Do you two have any idea who might have hated Susan enough to kill her?” Mike asked us.

“Susan had her own little clique,” Randy said. “She was on almost every committee known to man.”

“Don’t exaggerate,” I admonished him.

“Well, it’s true! She’s the head of the admissions board for the country club, she sits on the hospital board, the city council…you name it, she was either on the committee, or had major influence in the decisions that were made. If she didn’t like you, there was no way you could do anything socially in this town.”

“How come she wasn’t on the committee for the theatre event?”

“Most of the time, nobody wanted to sit on a committee with her,” I said. “But if it was a charity event, then she was definitely invited. She had more connections than the mayor, and they reached all the way to Austin. All she had to do was snap her fingers, and she could get whoever she wanted.”

“We’re talking big name donors,” Randy said.

“Mother practically begged her to be on the committee, but for some reason, Susan didn’t want to have anything to do with it. She said it wasn’t something that was worthy of her time.”

“But then she found out Stephen Showalter was going to be there,” Mike said, “and she suddenly wanted to take over.”

“Obviously for good reason, from what he told us at lunch,” I said.

“I haven’t had the chance to ask you how that went,” Randy said. “Give me all the details.”

I looked at Mike. “Up to you,” I said.

“We’ll tell you, but it can’t go beyond this house,” Mike said.

“Scout’s honor,” Randy said, holding up three fingers.

“That’s Girl Scouts, you nit,” I laughed.

“I always wanted to be in the Girl Scouts.”

“If you aren’t going to take this seriously,” Mike began, but Randy cut him off.