Who Invited the Ghost to Dinner: A Ghost Writer Mystery (34 page)

“I’ve asked your dad to conduct the service for Joanne,” Mike said. “I was wondering if you and Randy would create the bulletin. Maybe include a couple of poems or something.”

“Oh, wow, I don’t know what to say. Of course we’ll help. We’d be honored to.”

“I’ll send you the layout for the service for the bulletin,” Dad told me. “When do you want to have the service, Mike?”

“Well, her parents can’t get here until the beginning of next week, so we have time.”

“Do you want to say something at the service?” Dad asked Mike.

Mike nodded. “A couple of the officers have mentioned they would like to speak as well.”

“I think that would be wonderful.”

“Jim, could you come back here for a minute?” Mother said from the front counter. “There’s a problem with the order that just came in, and the company won’t listen to me. Could you talk to them please?”

“I’ll be right there, honey.” Turning back to us, he shook Mike’s hand. “Thank you for asking me. Joanne was a wonderful young woman. She did a lot of things down at the church. People loved her.”

“Jim!”

“I better go,” Dad said, leaning over to give me a kiss. “Talk with your grandmother and get her to chill out, or I’ll cut off her muffin supply.”

We took the muffins and left. “I didn’t realize that she did so much for the church,” I said to Mike as we got into the car. “She was just talking to me the other day about getting more involved in the community so she could get to know people better.”

“It sounds like she touched more people than she knew,” Mike said.

“Maybe I should talk to some of the church folks, see what they have to say about her. We could use that in the memorial program.”

“That would be a nice gift for her parents,” he replied. “It would let them know how much their daughter was appreciated. Talk to the folks at the station, too. A lot of them really liked her, and they’re taking her death very hard.”

“Maybe we should do a memory book instead,” I suggested. “People could write down something about her, and we could present it to her parents later.”

“Something that they can look at when they’re ready. That’s good. I’m sure they’re feeling more overwhelmed than we are right now.”

“You know if you need to talk, I’ll listen,” I told him as we turned down the street toward the nursing home.

“I know, and I appreciate that,” Mike said, reaching over and squeezing my hand. “Maybe after we catch Brennan, and the services for Reagan are over. Right now, I’m trying to keep everything in check. My officers need me to be strong for them right now. Most of them have never lost an officer in the line of duty before. They’re numb.”

“I can only imagine what they…what in the world?”

Chapter 43

T
here were cars everywhere by Grandma Alma’s house. There wasn’t a place to park. We finally found a spot three blocks away and got out. “What are they up to?” Mike said as we got out of the car.

“At this point, do we really want to know?” I said, locking the car and handing him the bag of muffins.

People were coming in and out of the house as we walked up the sidewalk. Pete was sitting in a chair by the front door, a card table and money box in front of him. “Pete,” I said, stopping in front of him, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing illegal, I promise,” he said.

“Tell me.”

“I think maybe I should let your grandmother tell you,” he replied. “But if you’re going inside, it’s five dollars admission.”

“You’re going to charge us?”

Pete looked over at Mike, whose badge was clipped to his jeans. “I think I can make an exception for the two of you, as long as you don’t tell anyone.”

“Smart move, Pete,” Mike said.

As we opened the door, someone called out, “B10!”

“BINGO! I’ve got Bingo!” someone else said.

“What the heck?” Mike said.

“Don’t you realize what you’ve got here, man? It’s the notorious Bingo squad!” I snickered.

“Mike, Cam! What are you two doing here?” Walt said from one of the tables.

Mike held up the bag. “Your daughter-in-law sent over muffins.”

Walt scoffed. “She sent you guys to talk to us, didn’t she?”

“Yep, she did,” I said.

He got up. “Come on. Your grandmother’s in the backyard.”

There were more tables set up outside. The people all seemed engrossed in what they were doing. “Don’t talk to any of them,” Walt warned us. “If you distract them, and they miss a possible winning number, we could have a riot on our hands. They take their Bingo playing very seriously.” He looked around the tables. “Ah, there she is. Front row, center.”

“O75!” the caller said. “O75.”

“BINGO!” the blue-haired lady next to Grandma Alma said.

There were a lot of groans. “Ethel Sue, that’s the third one in a row you’ve won,” my grandmother said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear the games were rigged.”

“Are you accusing me of cheating, Alma Ann Dreyer?” Ethel Sue said.

“It’s Alma Penhall now, and yes, I am!

“You take that back.”

“I will not.”

“Uh oh,” Walt said, “this isn’t going to end well.”

Ethel Sue stood up, but she forgot to move her chair back first, and as she rose to her feet, the table started to lean, and then slowly fell over on its side. The cards that were on top fell on the ground.

“Good thing they are using dabbers,” Walt said, “or Ethel Sue’s win would be null and void. I better go over there and get Alma before they start poking each other with those dabbers. Last time they got into it, your grandmother looked like she had chicken pox for a week.”

As Walt hustled across the yard to stop a potential fight, I turned to Mike. “Is something like this even legal?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Mike admitted. “I’ve never seen anything like this outside of a bingo hall before.”

Walt walked toward us with my grandmother, who was still grumbling and fuming about Ethel Sue. She looked Mike up and down, her eyes pausing for a moment on his badge, before she looked him in the eye. “I suppose you’re here to shut us down,” she snapped.

“For starters, we want to apologize for missing your wedding reception the other night,” I said. “It was totally…”

Grandma Alma put her wrinkled hand on top of mine. “Walt and I totally understand, believe me.”

“We also brought cranberry orange muffins,” Mike said, holding up the bag.

“Oh, then it’s your mother who sent you here,” she said to me.

“Afraid so.”

“Those nosy busybodies in the office have been complaining again, I take it.”

“They’re just concerned,” I said.

“They just don’t want us to have any fun,” Grandma Alma scoffed.

“What are you doing?” Mike said. She glared at him. “Unofficially, I promise.”

“We’re raising money.”

“For what?”

“That’s private business,” Walt said.

“I can make this official, if you’d like,” Mike told his grandfather.

“Oh, just tell them,” Grandma Alma said. “It’s not some big military secret.”

“We heard about that young female officer who was killed the other night,” Walt said. “We’re raising money for her daughter.”

“Her…what?” I said, shocked.

Mike swallowed hard. “That’s very kind of you,” he said. “I’m sure her parents will appreciate it very much. We’ve been passing the hat at the station, too.”

“Wait a minute, Joanne has a daughter?” I said. “You told me all of her family lived out of state.”

“They do,” Mike said. “Joanne didn’t want to bring her daughter down here until she was more settled in. They decided the best thing to do was to leave little Olivia where she was. I believe Joanne Skyped with her every night, though.”

“What a wonderful young woman she was,” my grandmother said. “She used to come visit on the weekends. She was our bingo caller during the tournaments. She had a wonderful sense of humor, and was a lot of fun. We all decided to have our own tournament, and use the entrance fee money for a college fund for Olivia. We wanted to repay the kindness and laughter Joanne brought us.”

I didn’t know what to say. The things you find out about people…it was a shame that we were learning all this when it was too late. I reached into the pocket of my backpack, pulled out some money, and handed it to my grandmother. “Here, for Olivia,” I told her, swallowing back a sob.

She reached out and put a gnarled hand on my cheek. “You have a good heart, Camille.”

Mike gave her what he had in his wallet. “We’ll combine the money we’ve all raised before the service next week. You all should be the ones to give it to Joanne’s parents.”

“We would be honored to do it,” Walt replied.

“So, if you didn’t come to stop the tournament, then why are you here?” Grandma Alma asked.

“Actually, we’re here to talk to you about Desmond Long Sr.,” I said.

“Then you’ll want to talk to Scott VanMeter,” Walt said. “He’s the bingo caller. I’ll go get him.”

I looked at Mike. “I thought you said he was out of town.”

“I was told he was.”

Walt came back with a man in his late forties. He had salt and pepper hair, wore jeans and a casual shirt, and had a friendly look on his face as he joined us. “Scott, I’d like you to meet my grandson, Mike Penhall, and his girlfriend, Cam Shaw.”

“Please to meet you,” Scott said, shaking our hands. “Walt said you wanted to talk to me.”

“I want to be upfront with you, Mr. VanMeter. I’m the chief of police, and I’m investigating the murders of your boss, Clinton Ingram, and one of my officers, Joanne Reagan. I’ve been trying to find you for over a week.”

“I just got back into town yesterday,” he said. “I was at a business conference. I’ll be glad to talk to you about Clinton, although I’m not sure how I can help you.”

“Let’s go into the house,” Grandma Alma suggested. “We can talk in the bedroom.”

The five of us walked inside. A couple of people wanted to know if Mike was arresting Walt and Grandma Alma for running the bingo tournament. Someone else suggested giving them the honeymoon suite at the jail.

After closing the door, Mike told Scott about the investigation into Clinton’s murder. “I understand you were one of three candidates for the president position.”

Scott nodded. “That’s true, but I think I was a long shot. Junior was way more qualified.”

“You mean Long Jr.?” Mike asked.

“Yeah. His father worked for the company forever, and Junior grew up around that place. He knows all the ends and outs, and a lot of the people we do business with. He’s perfect for the job.”

“Did you know that Clinton planned to name Pamela his successor?” I said.

Scott seemed surprised. “Really? Frankly, she’s the last person I would have chosen.”

“Why is that?” Mike said.

“Well,” he replied, scratching his jaw, “I don’t think she cared for the company as much as she pretended to. She was always hanging around with Clinton.”

“She was his secretary,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, but it went beyond the office. I think she had loftier goals.”

“I know what Scott means,” Grandma Alma said. “I used to see the two of them outside the office. As he got older, Clinton hated to drive, especially at night. So Pamela was always driving him around.”

“She would invite herself to the business meetings, too,” Scott added. “Even if Clinton managed to get to the meeting without her, she would show up, pretending that she had no idea Clinton would be there. Junior and I saw through that right away.”

“Did you see Junior’s father very much after he retired?” Mike said.

“Once a month, like clockwork. Clinton was never happy after his visits. We all learned to stay away from him on those days.”

“This is a question for all of you,” Mike said. “What did you think of Desmond Sr.?”

“Reminded me of a snake oil salesman,” my grandmother said. “He always thought he was slicker than a button on a henhouse. His wife isn’t much better. She reminds me of a Vegas showgirl: all legs and blonde, not many brains.”

“I’m sure not all Vegas showgirls are like that, Grandma Alma,” I said.

“I agree with Alma,” Walt said. “I always thought there was something about him that was off. Never could put my finger on it, though.”

“Have any of you ever heard of a man named Brennan?” Mike said. I opened the file and took out a picture.

They all shook their heads. I handed the photo to my grandmother first. Her eyebrows shot up as she looked at it. “Is this…” she started to say before Mike cut her off.

“Let the others look at it first,” he said.

She gave the picture to Scott, who gasped when he saw it.

When Walt saw the picture, he looked up at his grandson. “Is this who we all think it is?”

Mike nodded. “His real name is Donovan Michael Brennan, and he was part of the Vegas mob. I got this information from a friend of mine. Our theory is that after Lillian died, Brennan was sent here to keep an eye on Clinton, to make sure that he kept to the agreement he made when he borrowed the money to start the company.”

“You think the mob killed Lillian because Clinton tried to get out?” Walt asked.

Mike nodded again. “I think it’s possible. Being able to prove it is another thing entirely.”

“Have you tried to talk to…I don’t even know what to call him,” Walt said, slightly exasperated.

“Let’s just stick with Brennan, since that’s his real name” Mike suggested.

“All right, have you talked to him yet?”

“He’s done a runner.”

“What does that mean?” Scott asked.

“That means he’s disappeared,” Mike explained. “His car has been spotted at the airport, and we’re waiting for airport security to send us the video, so we can figure out where he went.”

“But I thought Junior was missing,” Grandma Alma said.

“We found him last night,” I told her, “tied to a tree in Pamela’s backyard. We still don’t know where she is, either.”

“Does the company have any private property that Pamela or Brennan. could use?” Mike asked Scott.

“Well, they used to have a place near Lake Waxahachie,” Scott said. “Clinton used it for a retreat, or would entertain clients out there. The Christmas party is held out there, too, as well as the New Year’s Eve party.”

“Do you think you could show us where it is?” Mike said.

“Sure. How soon do you want to go?”

“Why don’t you meet me at the station in about an hour?”

“That all right with you, Walt? Can you find someone to fill in for me?”

“We’ll manage,” he replied. “This is more important.”

“I’ll see you in an hour then, Chief Penhall,” Scott said, shaking his hand.

“Come on, Cam,” Mike said, helping me to my feet. “Thank you for your help, Grandpa. I appreciate it. You too, Ms. Alma.”

“Enjoy the muffins,” I told my grandmother, giving her a hug, “and try to stay out of trouble, or the next time, Mother will be the one to come.”

“Tell her to stop being such a party pooper,” she said. “Be careful, Mike.”

“I will.”

I drove him back to the station, not saying much. “Thank you for your help this morning,” he said when we got there.

“You’re welcome.”

“No, you can’t go with us,” Mike said before I could say anything. “If anyone is out there, it could get dangerous. My job, not yours, remember?”

“I understand. Just be careful and come back safe, please?”

“That’s what I intend to do,” he said, leaning over and giving me a kiss. “Go stay at the bookstore with Randy for a while, or go to the coffeehouse.”