Who Invited the Ghost to Dinner: A Ghost Writer Mystery (17 page)

I didn’t see any reason not to, so I told him what I had learned. “If Clinton caught Joey seven months ago, Susan found out, my guess is she went to Prufrock to start divorce proceedings.”

“That makes sense. But I don’t get Prufrock accusing Joey of misusing foundation money.”

“My guess is that Susan knew Joey had been dipping into the coffers, and was going to use it against him in the divorce. Since Prufrock sits on the foundation board, he could probably request information about the foundation’s finances. He must have found something, since the foundation was about to be audited.”

“But that was six months ago,” Randy said. “Did the audit ever take place?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted. “I didn’t see any follow-up articles about it. I wrote down the name of the reporter who wrote the original story. Thought I’d send him an email to see if he’ll tell me anything.”

“He’s going to want something in return,” Randy warned me.

“Hm, good point. Might have to rethink this approach.”

“You could always ask Clinton.”

“No, I can’t. His grandson found him dead this morning. I think that is what the phone call Mike got this morning was about.”

“Wait, what? And Joey is still MIA? Yeah, that’s not suspicious at all.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Did you get any details about it from Mike?”

“No. Come to think of it, Reed didn’t say much about it when he was here earlier.”

“My goodness, just what have you been up to tonight? And why are you working on this right now?” Randy asked. “Shouldn’t you be snuggling on the couch, whispering sweet nothings into Mike’s ear?”

I laughed. “I would if he was here, but he’s at home.”

“Did he get upset because you’re sticking your nose into his investigation again?”

“No, we had a little situation here at the house, and Reed ended up in the emergency room.”

“You’re just an accident waiting to happen!”

“I had nothing to do with it, I swear. Someone threw rocks through the living room windows, and Reed ended up with some cuts on his face. Mike said Reed had to have twelve stitches for one bad cut. He wanted to stay here in case someone else showed up, but I sent him home.”

“Which is why you are sitting on your couch, with your laptop nearby, doing Internet searches on the Ingrams. Not a great way to end an evening, toots.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m going to bed as soon as we’re done talking.”

“We’re done. Get some sleep. Come by and see me tomorrow.”

“I’ll do my best. Night.”

Once he hung up, I picked up my notebook and wrote down what I had learned. Could Susan’s death have to do with their broken marriage? Something told me it was more complicated than that. And why kill Clinton?

If only I could have used a crystal ball to see into the future, I would have run the other way a lot sooner.

Chapter 21

Monday

T
he next morning, I called my friend Sam Newsome at the public library. She was my go-to gal for information on local families.

“Hey, girl,” she said when she answered her phone, “long time, no talk. I guess since you wrote the book on the Ashtons and became a big shot, you don’t have time for us little people anymore, huh?”

“I’m not a big shot, and I always have time for you,” I laughed.

We chatted for a few minutes, catching up on everything going on in our lives. “I know you didn’t call just to talk,” Sam said. “Whatcha need?”

“Some information on the Ingrams.”

“Oh, really? What a coincidence, considering Susan Ingram got herself killed the other night.”

“I don’t think she planned to die, Sam.”

“Oh, I’m sure she didn’t. I believe her plans involved taking her husband to the cleaners in the divorce.”

“How do you know they were getting a divorce?”

“Because my cousin is the county clerk, and Susan’s lawyer filed the papers himself six days ago.”

Well, that certainly confirmed what I figured out last night. “I’m looking for anything you have on the Ingram family, going back several generations.”

“Let me think,” she said. “I believe the files go back to Phillip’s father. Will that be good enough?”

“That would be perfect. Could you make a copy of whatever you have, and let me know how much I owe you? I’ll pick them up later. I’d come by now and get them, but I’m going to be tied up with the window guy most of the morning.”

“Cheating on Mike already?” she teased me.

“Ha, ha, ha. No, someone broke some windowpanes in the living room last night. I’ve got to replace them.”

“What have you gotten into this time?” Sam said suspiciously. “Getting bonked on the head, now broken windows? What’s going on?”

“I wish I knew,” I told her.

After we hung up, I looked out the front window and noticed someone walking around by one of the trees. Turning off the alarm, I grabbed my baseball bat, tucked my phone in my back pocket, and went outside. When I got closer, I saw that it was Joanna Reagan. “Good morning, Officer Reagan.”

She jumped and spun around, her hand on her gun. “God, don’t you know better than to sneak up on someone?” she said, dropping her hand to her side.

“Don’t you know better than to snoop around private property without letting the owner know you’re there?” I replied, balancing the bat on my shoulder. “I thought it was a prowler, and after what happened last night, I planned to swing first and ask questions later.”

“You’re right,” she said, eyeing the bat. “I should have knocked on the door first.”

“Why are you here?”

“When I came into work this morning, I heard about what happened last night. I thought I would come by and see if you were all right. I heard someone got hurt last night. It wasn’t you, was it?”

I shook my head. “A guest. I’m fine. Just waiting for the glass guy to get here and fix the living room windows,” I said, pointing at the plywood over my shoulder.

“Wow, what a mess.”

“That it is,” I agreed. “But you still didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”

“Oh, well, I read the report, so I thought I’d come by and see if I could find any footprints that might help us identify the perpetrators.”

“That’s a good idea. Did you find anything?”

She shook her head. “The guys trampled all over the place,” she said. “I don’t think there are any useable prints, but I’m going to give it a try. We’ll find whoever did this, I promise.”

“I hope so,” I said as a utility truck parked by the curb. “Well, I’ll leave you to your work. Thank you for your concern, and for coming out here. I appreciate it.” I held out my hand.

“You’re welcome. I’m just glad you’re all right,” Reagan said, shaking my hand and letting it go.

“Me, too,” I replied.

I walked over to Dan Faulk, the man Reynolds had told me about the night before. As I talked to him, I kept glancing over at Reagan. There was just something off about her, but I couldn’t explain what it was. Maybe I was just being paranoid.

Or maybe I was right to worry.

***

Two hours and a few hundred dollars later, I had shiny new windows. I put the bill with the incident number that Reynolds had given me the night before. Hopefully, my homeowner’s insurance would cover some of this.

I put a couple of notebooks and pens in my messenger bag, and located my keys and wallet. Making sure that the security alarm was on, I locked the front door, and then got in my car.  As I put the car in reverse, my phone rang. I put the car back in park and dug it out of the side pocket of my messenger bag. “Hello?”

“Hey, beautiful,” Mike said. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Better. I had a surprise visitor earlier.”

“Who?”

“Officer Reagan.”

“What was she doing there?”

“She said she heard about what happened when she got to the station this morning, and she took it upon herself to come over here and look for evidence.”

“Is that so? Did she find anything?”

“She claims that the officers who were there last night obscured any footprints that were there.”

“You don’t believe her?”

“I get a funny feeling from her, if you want the honest truth. Something’s off about her, Mike.”

“What do you mean, ‘off’?”

“I don’t know. It’s nothing I can explain right now. I’m probably just overreacting.”

“She came highly recommended, Cam. Near the top of her class at the academy. They wouldn’t have allowed her to graduate if she didn’t pass all the physical and psychological exams.”

“I know, I know,” I said, feeling frustrated. “Don’t pay any attention to me. What are you doing this morning?”

“I’m going to see if I can find Joey Ingram, among other things.”

“Good luck.”

“What about you?”

“I’m doing some research at the library,” I replied. “I talked to Sam this morning, and she’s pulling some files for me.”

“Want to meet for lunch if I’m free?”

“Sure, that sounds great. Give me a call and let me know when.”

“Will do. Be careful, okay?”

“Back at ya.”

“You got it.”

I was smiling when I hung up. He always left me with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

A few minutes later, I parked in front of the library. I noticed that Sam’s blue truck was still there as I got out. I made small talk with a couple of people who were coming out before going inside, and making my way downstairs to the research area.

“Whoa!” Sam said when she saw me. “What happened to your hair?”

I turned around so she could see the white bandage on the back of my head. “A new hairstyle was kind of necessary after they shaved some of it off at the hospital the other day.”

“I can see that. Who did you piss off this time?”

“Beats me.”

“Does it have anything to do with the files you asked me for earlier?”

“I don’t know that, either,” I said, putting my messenger bag down on a table.

“What the heck have you gotten yourself into this time?” she said, shaking her head at me.

“You tell me.”

“Hold on.” She went over to help another patron who had a question about the computer, then came back. “Why don’t you tell me what you know about Susan Ingram’s murder, and I’ll tell you what I’ve found in these files.”

We sat down at the table, and I told her what little I knew. “What’s weird is the fact that Joey hasn’t been seen since the night of the murder.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack. Mike’s going by his house and office this morning to see if he can find him. I imagine he’ll ask his employees if anyone knows where he might be.”

“Do you have an opinion about his disappearance?”

“To be honest, no.”

“Do you think he killed Susan, and then left town?”

I thought about it a moment. “No, I don’t think so.”

“What if the murder and his disappearance are connected?”

I sat back in my chair and stared at her. “As in a business deal gone sour?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time this family has been affected by something like that.”

“You must have found something very interesting in those files, Sam.”

She got up, went over to her desk, and picked up several folders. “Here,” she said, handing them to me. “I think you are going to find some very interesting reading in these files, and some very eerie parallels to what’s going on now.”

I was dying to start looking at them, but decided to wait until I was at home and could focus on them. I paid her and put the receipt in my wallet. “If you find anything else, will you let me know?”

“Don’t worry,” Sam said, “I will. You’ve got my curiosity stirred up now. I’ll keep digging.”

“Thanks, Sam. You’re the best.”

“Always nice to hear,” she said.

Putting the files and my wallet in the messenger bag, I said goodbye and left. Checking the time, I noticed it was only eleven, so I decided to swing by the coffeehouse and see my parents.

When I got there, however, they were extremely busy, so I walked across the street to the bookstore.

“What are you doing out and about?” Randy said as I walked in the door.

“It’s good to see you, too,” I said.

“Should you be driving?”

“I’m fine,
Dr
. Cross.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop nagging. What brings you by here? Did you actually remember that you work here once in a while?”

“I just came from the library. I was picking up some research material.”

“A new book?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

“We’ll see,” I replied, looking around. “Do you still have those books on local history?”

“Yeah, I do,” Randy said, leading the way to a window display. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

“Genealogy, unsolved mysteries.”

He turned and looked at me. “Does this have to do with the murders?”

“Maybe.”

“I thought you were going to stay out of it, and let Mike handle it.”

“I am. I’m just doing some background work, in case I want to turn this into a book at some point.”

He eyed me warily. “You do realize that I don’t believe you for a minute.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Shaking his head, Randy turned around and selected a couple of books. “This one is about unsolved crimes in Waxahachie, as well as the county. And this one talks about the history of the city, and even covers some family genealogy. I’m guessing that’s what you want, correct?”

“Correct.”

“I’ll give you the employee discount.”

“You’re too good to me,” I laughed as I followed him to the front.

“And don’t you forget it, either.”

The bell over the front door rang, and we looked up to see Mike. “What are you doing here?” I asked him.

“I saw your car outside, and thought I’d stop so I could see you.”

I handed Randy my credit card, and he ran it through the machine. “You know,” Randy said, “you two seem to be having some serious bad luck. Maybe I should call Jolanda.”

We looked at each other and shook our heads. “We’ll pass,” I told him.

“I think you should at least talk to her. She might be able to help.”

“At this point, I’ll keep working the case on my own,” Mike said.

Randy shrugged and handed my card back. “Suit yourself,” he said, giving me the receipt and a pen. “Hold on a minute. I have something else for you in the back. Be right back.”

“What’s he up to?” Mike asked me as Randy left.

“I have no idea.”

When Randy came back, Jolanda (who preferred to be called Jo) Williams was with him. “Look who just happened to be here,” he said as they joined us by the register.

“Really, Randy? She just ‘happened’ to be here?”

“Oh yes,” Jo replied. “He asked me to come over and help him do inventory. I couldn’t pass on the opportunity to check out his new shipment of New Age books and mysteries.”

“I’ll just bet,” Mike muttered.

Jo was an interesting character. Part flower child, part computer guru, part psychic, she had an unusual view of life. Randy brought the two of us together when I had first encountered Stanley Ashton last year. “Randy tells me that you’re involved with some free spirited ghosts.”

“That’s one word for it,” Mike muttered.

I elbowed Mike in the ribs. “He’s right.”

“He also tells me that you seem to be having problems with a female ghost. Something about her emotions? Is that correct?”