Who Invited the Ghost to Dinner: A Ghost Writer Mystery (30 page)

A blue spotlight came on. It was focused on the couch. “That’s not how the lights were,” Mike said.

Suddenly, Susan Ingram stepped into the spotlight. Richard looked like he was going to be sick. “It can’t be.”

“What’s wrong, Mr. Danforth?” I said.

“Don’t you see her?”

“See who?” I said, looking around.

“Susan, right there, by the couch.”

“I don’t see anything. Do you, Mike?” I said, shaking my head at him.

He got the hint. “No. Should I?”

“Why, Richard?” Susan said. “Why did you do it?”

“It was an accident, I swear. I thought you were Rachel.”

I heard a gasp, and noticed Rachel had stepped onto the stage, but Richard didn’t seem to notice her.

Mike started to say something, but I put my hand on his arm to stop him. “Why did you think she was Rachel?”

“I…I had just finished giving some instructions to one of the stagehands. When I came around the corner, I saw her from behind. The hair, the dress, the way she was just stood there. Like she belonged there. All I could think was I wanted to get rid of her.”

“Why?”

“She was blackmailing me,” he said bitterly. “She knew I was having an affair with a young actress from my last show. She caught us together one time, and threatened to tell my wife. She used that knowledge to get the part of Elvira. But what she really wanted was to star in my next show. It’s a major part, and it would make her a star. But I had already promised it to Diane. ‘Diane is old news,’ Rachel said. ‘This part is perfect for me, and I intend to have it. Either you give Diane a smaller role, or I go to every gossip columnist I know, and show them the pictures of you and your protégé. You’ll be laughed off Broadway.’ I had to do something.”

“So when you saw her on the stage by herself,” I said, “you thought that was your perfect opportunity.”

Richard nodded. “Everyone was busy getting ready for the next act. It was so easy. I slipped behind her, grabbed the pearls, and…” He looked down at his hands. “When I laid her down on the floor, I didn’t bother to look at her face. I took off my shoes, went off stage right, and slipped out the side door. I dumped the waiter’s clothes in the trash can,  came back in through the front, made my way along the back wall, and was standing in my usual spot when the curtain rose for the second act.”

“You must have been thrown for a loop when you heard us say it was Susan, not Rachel, who was dead.”

“I felt sick. Susan was a wonderful woman. A long time ago, we were…lovers. When I saw her the other night, she still looked so beautiful.”

Susan disappeared, and the stage lights came on. Diane had her arm around Rachel, who appeared to be in shock. Mike pulled out his handcuffs as he walked over to Richard. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Susan Ingram. You have the right to remain silent,” he began, pulling Richard’s arms behind his back as he read him his rights. He led him over to the couch and helped him sit down. “I’m going to call for a squad car for him, and an ambulance for Ms. Newton. I think she’s going into shock.”

Wouldn’t you if you had just learned someone died because a murderer mistook them for you?

Chapter 37

T
hirty minutes later, we watched Kim and her partner wheel Rachel out on a stretcher. Diane went with them; she was actually holding Rachel’s hand as they left. Officer Goodwin followed them, leading Richard out.

I looked at Simon, who was sitting on the edge of the stage, the now half-empty Scotch decanter beside him. “So what’s going to happen to the show now?” I asked him.

“Provided Rachel feels up to it, we’ll honor our commitment to your mother,” he said.

“The show must go on and all that rot?” I said.

He nodded. “Precisely. I’ve directed before, and Diane has performed this show hundreds of times. Between the two of us, we’ll be all right.”

“Is there someone who can drive you back to your hotel?” Mike said.

“Art is waiting for me outside,” Simon said, pushing himself off the edge. “Don’t worry, I know better than to drink and drive, Chief Penhall.” He gave us a slight bow and left.

I sat down in a chair and rubbed my face. “Well, that was interesting,” I said.

Mike sat down next to me. “I know I’m going to hate myself for asking this, but how did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make Susan Ingram appear.”

“It wasn’t Susan.”

“Wait…what?”

“I haven’t seen or talked to Susan since before she died, Mike.”

“Then who was that I saw? Mac?”

“Good grief, does the man really think I would dress in drag?!” Mac said from the couch onstage.

I laughed. “Mac is offended that you think he would wear a wig and a dress. It was Lillian.”

“But she looked like Susan.”

“It’s amazing what you can do when you’re dead,” Mac replied. “We’re better actors than those in Hollywood, aren’t we?”

Lillian walked across the stage and sat down next to Mac. “Did I do all right, Cam?”

“You did just fine, Lillian,” I assured her. “Even I thought you were Susan, and I was in on the whole thing.”

“Wait a minute,” Mike said. “You knew we were going to end up here tonight when you picked me up, didn’t you?”

“There was a bit of planning involved, so yes, I knew.”

“But how did you know it was Richard?”

“I didn’t. I actually thought it was Diane. But I knew that Lillian had seen someone kill Susan that night. The only way to prove it was to get her to identify them.”

“But what about the lights?”

“That was Mac. I’m not sure how he did it, so don’t ask. I don’t understand the whole ghost being able to touch things bit yet. I knew that as soon as the killer saw Lillian dressed as Susan, it would freak them out and they’d confess.”

“You’re very lucky that worked, you know.”

“Well, we have Mac and Lillian to thank for that. Well done, you two.”

“You’re welcome,” Mac said.

“I’m glad I was able to help,” Lillian said. “Does this get us any closer to who killed me?”

“I’m afraid not,” I told her, “but I’m still working on it.”

“Working on what?” Mike asked.

“Trying to figure out who killed Lillian.”

“Not tonight,” Mike said, helping me to my feet. “I’m starving. You promised me dinner, and I intend to collect. Let’s go.”

“Don’t you need to go down to the station to process Richard?”

“Goodwin can handle booking him. There’s no night court, so Richard will just have to wait until morning to find a lawyer and see a judge.”

“We can’t leave,” I said, stopping in the middle of the room. “I don’t have the keys to lock up.”

“I’ve got that covered,” Mike said. “After I called Goodwin, I got in touch with the cleaning company. They had already planned on coming in tonight to clean up before tomorrow night’s show.”

Sure enough, there were two women and a man waiting when we walked out into the lobby. “Bart, good to see you,” I said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Bart Simmons smiled. “How are ya, Cam? Yeah, Frannie, my wife, works on the night crew. After what’s been goin’ on around here the past few days, I didn’t want her and the other girls workin’ up here without some protection.”

“You aren’t carrying a gun, are you, Bart?” Mike asked him.

“Yes, sir, I am,” Bart replied as he pulled out his wallet. “I’ve got my CCW with me. Perfectly legal.”

“Try not to use it,” Mike said.

“Don’t plan on it unless it’s life or death, Chief.”

“Good to hear. Have a good evening.”

“You, too. Good to see you, Cam. Tell your folks I said hello.”

“I certainly will, Bart. Night.”

When we walked outside, I could smell rain in the air. “I wonder how much we’re going to get tonight,” I said as I unlocked the car.

“Haven’t heard,” Mike said. “I’ve been a bit busy today.”

“So, what are you hungry for?”

“Let’s just grab something from Pop’s and take it back to your place.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Forty minutes later, we were sitting at my kitchen table, eating the best cheeseburgers in town. We also had shoestring onion rings and fried pickles with ranch dressing. “What about Pamela Dimwitty?” I asked him.

Mike swallowed an onion ring and took a drink before answering. “Let me check with Reagan,” he said, pulling out his phone and typing a message.

“Did you find Joey Ingram?”

“No. When Prufrock brought the restraining order, I asked him if he had gotten in contact with his client. He said he had left him several messages, but didn’t have a clue where he was at.”

“Do you think he’s telling you the truth?”

“There’s no way that uptight little man would lie to protect anyone, except maybe himself,” Mike said as his phone buzzed. “It’s Goodwin. Richard is screaming for a lawyer and claims he was set up. That didn’t take long.”

“Good thing he confessed in front of witnesses.”

“That will certainly help.”

We still hadn’t heard from Reagan by the time we finished cleaning up after supper, so Mike tried calling her, but got no answer. “Do you feeling like going for a drive?” he asked me as he hung up.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I thought we might try to find Pamela’s little dog. It would be terrible if it got caught outside in the rain.”

“And since we’ll just ‘happen’ to be in the neighborhood, we can stop and check on Reagan,” I said.

“What a great idea!” he said. “Now why didn’t I think of that?”

“Let me get a jacket out of my closet, and we can go.”

When I walked into my bedroom, Mac was sitting on my bed. “What are you doing in here?” I asked him as I opened the closet door. “Not in the mood to scare me senseless right now?”

“Cam,” he said quietly.

Something about the tone of his voice made me turn around. He had his fedora in his hands, and a sad look on his face. “Something’s happened.”

He nodded. “That young officer...she just showed up at the Ingram house. She looked confused...and then…”

I felt my stomach clench, and I thought I was going to be sick. I knew what the problem was without him telling me. “You better go.”

Standing up, he reached out to touch me, but let his hand drop. As he put on his fedora, he disappeared. I turned back to the closet, yanked a hoodie off a hanger, and hurried out of the room. I grabbed my keys and phone off the coffee table. “We need to go, now,” I told Mike as I headed for the door.

“What’s going on?” Mike said as I locked the front door.

“I’m not sure,” I said as I rushed down the steps toward the car, “but it’s not good.”

******

I drove across town like a crazy woman. A couple of times, Mike tightened his seatbelt. “Don’t you think you should slow down?”

“No, I don’t. If I had sirens on the car, I’d go faster,” I said as we drifted around a corner.

Five minutes later, I slammed on the brakes in front of Pamela’s house. There was a patrol car sitting in the driveway. “Well, at least she’s still here,” Mike said as we got out.

I ignored him and ran over to the side gate, which was wide open.

“Cam, stop!” Mike stepped in front of me as he pulled out his Colt. “Stay here.”

“I will not,” I told him.

There wasn’t any light in the backyard, and the clouds blocked the moonlight. “Do you have a flashlight in your car?”

“Yeah, hold on.” I hurried over to the back of my car, popped the trunk and dug through my emergency kit for the flashlight. I turned it on as I ran back to Mike, who took the light from me.

“Stay behind me and be quiet,” he said. “You do whatever I tell you to, understand?”

“I understand.”

We made our way slowly across the yard. It seemed to take forever to make it over to the shed. As we got closer, I noticed the door was closed. Mike pointed at me, then at the doorknob, making a sweeping motion with his hand. I nodded and moved over to his right, so I would be behind the door when I opened it. He held up three fingers; I nodded again.

Three fingers…

I put my hand on the doorknob.

Two fingers…

I tightened my grip on the knob, and felt my heart trying to jump out of my chest.

One finger…

I turned the knob and pulled the door open, closed my eyes and prayed.

Waiting about thirty seconds, I slid to my left and peeked around the door. Tears sprang to my eyes as I saw Mike kneeling next to Reagan, his fingers on her neck. I knew what that meant. I pulled out my phone and dialed.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“This is Cam Shaw. There’s an officer down at the Dimwitty house.”

“Could you repeat that?”

“I’m with Chief Penhall. There’s an officer down at 19765 Mustang Road at the Dimwitty house.”

“Do you need an ambulance?”

I looked at Mike, who was still kneeling next to Reagan. “No,” I told the dispatcher, “just the medical examiner.”