Who Invited the Ghost to Dinner: A Ghost Writer Mystery (25 page)

“Blackmailing you is what you really mean,” I said.

“Yes,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Why was he blackmailing you?” Lillian wanted to know.

Clinton didn’t answer.

“I bet I know why,” Mac said.

“Not one word!” Clinton said.

“I want to know,” Lillian said.

“It’s business, my dear,” he said to her. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“You know, that’s one thing I haven’t missed in the last fifty years or so,” Lillian replied. “Your patronizing ‘it’s business’ tone of voice. You never thought I had any brains.”

“That’s not true,” Clinton protested.

“It is true!” she snapped. The light blue glow turned white hot and bright. “And here you are, talking about making a woman president of your company, but you won’t tell me what’s going on with the business. Do you see the problem here?”

“Um, what’s going on?” Mike asked me, shielding his eyes from the bright light.

“Oh, just another male chauvinist pig being called on the carpet,” I told him. My head started to throb, and I rubbed my temples.

“No, I don’t see any problem whatsoever,” Clinton said. “A wife’s responsibilities are to take care of the house and children. She’s not supposed to ask questions about her husband’s business affairs.”

I shook my head. “He did not just say that,” I muttered.

“Say what?” Mike said.

“That a woman’s place is in the home.”

“Ooh, if he wasn’t already a ghost, I’d say he was a dead man walking,” Mike replied, shaking his head.

“Things have changed in the last fifty years, Clinton,” Lillian said. She stood up and walked behind us. “I am aware of women holding jobs that were normally for men. That means that you can tell me who was blackmailing you and why. If you don’t, I swear I am going to raise holy hell to the point that everyone in town is going to think this place is possessed!”

“Technically, the house is possessed,” Mac pointed out to her. Lillian glared at him.

Her anger resonated all around us. I grabbed my head and bent over from the pain. Mike got up, pulled me to my feet and dragged me out of the living room. Mac followed us out, hurrying ahead to open the front door.

The cool air helped ease the pain a little as Mike helped me down the steps and over to his truck. I turned and leaned against it, staring at the house. I assumed she was still telling him off, because the glow from the living room windows was still bright.

“What happened in there?” Mike said.

“Lillian on emotional overload,” I replied. “Over fifty years of pent up rage, I guess.”

“Feeling better?” Mac asked me.

“A little.”

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea to come over here tonight,” he reminded me.

“Don’t rub it in.”

“So we know someone was blackmailing Clinton,” Mike said. “Do you think it’s Desmond Long Jr.?”

I shrugged. “It was implied, but not confirmed.”

“We need to go back and ask him about it,” he said.

“Not tonight we don’t,” I said. “I’ve had enough of Lillian for now. Besides, you’ve got two other names that you can check out tomorrow, besides Pamela. Right now, I just want to go home.”

“Are you sure?”

“All you wanted was information, Mike. We both agreed I would ask him some questions, and that would be the extent of my involvement. It’s your investigation, remember? Although I do have to agree with Lillian that keeping things from me, considering I am helping you, is a rather chauvinist attitude.”

“I’m not a chauvinist,” Mike said indignantly. Mac snickered. “I’m doing it to protect you. Besides, I do this for a living. You’re just a writer.”

My mouth fell open. Mac just shook his head.

“I’d like to go home now, if you don’t mind, Chief Penhall,” I said. I opened the passenger side door, got in, and slammed it shut, leaving Mike standing on the other side with a puzzled look on his face. As he walked around to the driver’s side, Mac tipped his hat, smiled, and disappeared.

It was a quiet ride back to my house. When Mike parked in my driveway, I quickly got out. “I can see myself inside. Good night.”

“Cam,” Mike started to say, but I closed the door before he could say anything else. Just a writer, indeed. Tomorrow, I would track down Desmond Long Jr. myself. I didn’t need Mike around to ask a few simple questions.

Right?

Chapter 31

Wednesday

“Y
ou’re not serious,” Randy said. We were standing in front of the historical mystery section of the bookstore, putting out some new books. I had just finished telling him what had happened the night before, concluding with Mike’s “you’re just a writer” comment.

“Totally serious. I wanted to slug him.”

“Maybe he didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“You’re going to defend him?!”

“Calm down. Just hear me out.”

“This ought to be good,” I muttered as I shoved another book on the shelf.

“He probably meant that he’s trained for things like this. He knows how to conduct investigations, how to interview suspects and witnesses, and how to protect himself if the situation goes bad. If the person you were talking to suddenly became violent, you could end up in serious trouble, or worse. Mike has a fighting chance. And he did agree to let you help, up to a certain point.”

“So what you’re saying is that you think he meant it in a concerned boyfriend kind of way, and not in a ‘this is a man’s job’ way?”

“Exactly,” Randy nodded. “Mike’s not a chauvinist. He does have female officers on the force, and he’s certainly worked with them in the past.”

I didn’t want to admit he had a point.

“Since you’re being so stubborn, let me put it another way. Do you want to be chased by a monster truck and forced down a well again?”

“Not particularly.”

“Do you want to be held at gunpoint by a crazy man again?”

“Definitely not.”

“Then leave the murder investigations to Mike, and go back to writing your books, or next time, you’ll be a ghostwriter, literally.”

“Wow, harsh much?” I said, dropping a book back into the box. I walked around the corner and saw Mike leaning against the front counter, his arms across his chest. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he said. He pointed to a white bag on the counter next to him. “I brought a peace offering.”

Frowning, I went over and looked inside the bag. “Jelly doughnuts?”

“Apricot and cherry. And a Dr Pepper.”

“Food and drink, wow. I guess you aren’t feeling too guilty, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“No flowers.”

Mike sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Look, what I said last night was meant with the best intentions. It just didn’t come out the right way. Randy’s right. This is what I do for a living. Writing is what you do for a living. We agreed to limited involvement. Personally, you’re in too deep for my comfort.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m sorry?”

“Look at what’s happened. Stitches on the back of your head. The person who hit you obviously doesn’t care much for human life, considering they’ve already killed someone.”

“We have no proof that the person who hit me and the person, or persons, who killed Susan and Clinton are one in the same.”

“Are you serious? It’s pretty obvious that all of this is connected, Cam. Frankly, I have no intention of pulling you out of another well.”

“I didn’t ask you to. And I seem to remember that it was me who saved your butt when Artie was holding all of us at gunpoint.”

“I’m not doing this,” Mike said. “It’s time to back off, Cam.” He headed for the door.

“And if I happen to hear something that would be helpful to your investigation?” I said, stopping him in his tracks. “I suppose I’ll just keep that to myself.”

He turned around. “If you come across any information that you think would be helpful, then I want to know. I hope it’s accidentally, of course.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to be accused of doing your job.”

He started to say something else, then changed his mind, turned around and left.

“Still haven’t forgiven him, I see,” Mac said.

“Shut up.”

“I haven’t said anything yet,” Randy said.

“Mac.”

“Ah. Good morning, Mac.”

“Good morning, Randy,” Mac said. He sat down on top of the counter and opened the white bag. “Ooh, doughnuts. That is one thing about being dead that I really don’t like…not being able to enjoy food.”

I snatched the bag out of his reach. “Good thing for me you don’t need to eat.”

“I don’t think a sugar rush is going to take care of your crankiness, young lady,” Mac said.

Randy took the bag from me. “You’re going to crush those jelly doughnuts, and I’ll be the one cleaning up the mess. So what now?” He looked inside the bag and took out a doughnut. “Are you really going to stop investigating?”

“What do you think?”

Mac rubbed his hands together. “I think that means you’re going to stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong. Where do we start?”

“What’s this ‘we’ bit, kemosabe?”

“The Lone Ranger! That was a great television series!

“What are you talking about?” Randy said. “This not being able to see ghosts really bites sometimes.”

“Being able to see them really bites sometimes,” I replied.

“Hey, I’m a great guy,” Mac said. “Who wouldn’t want to hang out with me?”

“What are you planning to do?” Randy asked me.

“There are three people that I need to talk to. I just have to make sure that Mike isn’t there when I do.”

“That would be rather awkward,” Randy agreed. “He’d probably arrest you, too, just to make sure you got the point about staying out of the investigation.”

“I don’t think an orange jumpsuit would be a good look for you,” Mac said. “Maybe I can help.”

“Why are you so anxious to help me?”

“You’re not going to do this by yourself,” Randy said.

“Not you. Mac.”

“Because maybe helping you find Lillian’s killer will lead me to my killer,” Mac replied.

I didn’t say anything for a minute.“So how do you plan on helping me?” I said to Mac.

“I can find out where Mike is at, to make sure we all don’t end up at the same place.”

“I know for a fact he’s going to be at the station talking to Joey and his lawyer.”

“Yes, but when? Give me a minute.” Mac vanished in a glow of blue.

“I will never get used to that,” I muttered.

“Used to what?”

“Ghosts just popping in and out without walking out the door.”

Randy finished the doughnut and licked his fingers. “Where did he go?”

I took the bag away from him before he could eat the second one. “He went to find Mike.”

“Why?”

“So we know where he’s at, and I will know who I can go talk to.”

Randy handed me the Dr Pepper. “I don’t think you should do this, Cam.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one being haunted by three ghosts.”

“Yes, but I’d rather you were the haunted, instead of the hauntee.”

Mac appeared next to Randy. “He’s at the station, talking to some funny-looking man who’s throwing a fit about his client being locked up.”

“Sounds like Prufrock,” I said.

“Prufrock is Joey’s lawyer?” Randy said. “Mike is going to be tied up all morning.”

“That’s good for me,” I replied, grabbing my messenger bag and slinging it over my shoulder. “If Mike comes looking for me, tell him I’m doing research at the Dallas library.”

“You want me to lie to the chief of police?”

“No. As my best friend, I want you to lie to my boyfriend.”

“When you put it that way, I can do that,” Randy said. “But where are you really going to be?”

“Well, a wise person would research a subject before they talk to them. So, I’m going to do my due diligence, and dig for information. Then I’ll set up an interview with each person.”

“How are you going to pull that off?”

“I’ll say it’s research for a story on the Ingram family. You’d be surprised at the things you learn when people start talking. The dirtiest secrets come to the surface.”

“Promise me that you’ll stay in touch with me by text. Let me know where you’re at, just in case something happens. At least I’ll know where to send Mike.”

“I will, but you won’t need to tell Mike. Nothing’s going to happen.” Famous last words.

Randy followed me to the door. “Go with her, Mac,” he said quietly.

“I planned on it,” Mac whispered back, even though Randy couldn’t hear him.

******

Actually, I didn’t go very far. I parked in the alley behind my parents’ coffeehouse, and went in through the back door. “What are you doing here?” Dad said when he saw me walking by his office.

“Just came for my morning muffin.”

He pointed to the bag in my hand. “With a jelly doughnut?”

“It was given to me.”

“And you’re coming in the back way instead of through the front door like you usually do because why?”

“You looked busy this morning, so I thought I’d park in the back.”

Dad leaned back in his chair. “Going to tell me what’s really going on?”

“Just a difference of opinion with Mike.”

“Hence the doughnut bag.”

“I didn’t buy them. Mike did. Two jelly doughnuts, although Randy ate one.”

“What’s the problem between you and Mike?”

I leaned against the doorway. “He doesn’t want me getting involved in the Ingram case. I should say, more involved than I already am. He gave me the ‘I’m trained for this, you’re not’ speech, which didn’t go over well with me.”

“I imagine not,” Dad said. “So, let me guess. You’re planning to ignore his advice and look into this by yourself.”

“Maybe.”

He shook his head. “That’s not like you, Cam. You’ve never liked going it alone. I would think that the Ashton case reinforced the belief that you work better with other people. If Mike is asking you to step aside, I’m sure he has a good reason for it.”

“He thinks one haircut and one set of stitches is enough.”

“I told you I’ve got a weed eater at the house. I would have been happy to cut your hair without you having to get stitches.”

“Very funny, Dad.”

“Why don’t you call Mike and ask him to meet you here? You two can work this out.”

“He’s busy this morning. He arrested Joey Ingram yesterday, but he had to wait until Joey’s lawyer was available to talk to him. I think Charles Prufrock is the lawyer.”

“Poor Mike,” Dad said, shaking his head. “Charles can be a handful. So what are you planning to do?”

“I thought I’d sit out front and do some research.”

“For a client?”

“Um, no. We learned the names of some people who might have had a grudge against Clinton, so I thought I would check them out.”

“You aren’t planning to talk to them, are you?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“Alone?”

“It’s possible.”

Dad shook his head again. “Don’t do it, Cam. If your research turns up something Mike should know, then tell him. But don’t confront these people by yourself.”

“Want to go with me?”

“I have enough to do around here, thank you very much. Plus, I’m filling in at the church on Sunday, so I have a sermon to prepare. Call Mike later and talk to him. I kind of like the guy.”

“Don’t get any ideas, Dad.”

“What ideas?”

“Son-in-law ideas. We’re not to that point yet. Not even close.”

“I can hope.”

“Now you sound like Mother.”

“Well, we’re not getting any younger, you know. We’d like a couple of grandkids to spoil.”

I put my hands over my ears. “I do not need to hear this right now.”

He laughed as he got up and came over to me. He gave me a big hug and kissed my forehead. “Work things out with Mike. He’s a good man, and he makes you happy. You’re both just a bit stubborn.”

“I blame my red hair and you.”

“Guilty as charged,” he said as the office phone rang. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I stopped to give Mother a hug and kiss before I went out front and claimed a corner booth. As I went to the counter to get some ice for my Dr Pepper, Joanne Reagan walked through the front door. I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath.

“What can I get you, Cam?” Regina said.

“Just a large cup of ice.”

“You got it.”

Joanne appeared next to me. “What a surprise to see you here, Cam,” she said.

“It’s one of my favorite places.”

“I love the muffins,” she admitted. “And the owners are super nice.”

“Yes, they are,” I agreed.

“Here you go, Cam,” Regina said, handing me a glass. “Oh, and your mother said to give you this.” She slid a plate of muffins across the counter. “She said that jelly doughnut isn’t good for you.”