Christmas Spirit (The Middle-aged Ghost Whisperer Book 1): (Ghost Cozy Mystery series) Read online

  I shook my head. “I can’t,” I said. “I can’t help you.”

  Alum’s face fell. “No one else can hear me.” His shoulders sagged. “I need your help. I know Brady Wayland’s death wasn’t a suicide. My death proves that. I can’t be at peace until I know.”

  “Well, where is he?” I asked.

  Alum looked confused. “Where is who?”

  “Where is Brady Wayland? He was murdered. I can’t get any impressions from him, so perhaps he’s gone on. If he doesn’t care, why should you?”

  “I don’t know if he went on,” Alum said. “I’ve never seen another ghost, so I don’t know if I can see one. I just need this thing solved, so I can be at peace.”

  I sighed. Logically, I was the only person who could help Alum. But I just couldn’t. It wasn’t in me.

  “I don’t need you to do anything dangerous,” the ghost pleaded with me. “I wouldn’t put anyone in danger. I wouldn’t put you in danger, seriously. That’s not what it’s about. To be honest, it’s about justice. It’s about justice for Wayland.”

  I was softening, and I didn’t know if it was just the fatigue or what. “Well, I don’t need to really do anything?” I said hesitantly. “I suppose if you come up with evidence, I can just go to the police.”

  “My partner shot me,” Alum reminded me. “I don’t know how far up it goes. It could be dangerous for you to go to the police. We need to do this on our own.”

  I sighed. Of course we do, I thought with some measure of sarcasm. The whole thing sounded too dangerous. In fact, the whole thing sounded insane. And the worst part was that I was considering helping the man. I was going to help a ghost solve someone else’s murder. This all sounded like a bad movie, but somehow, all of a sudden, it was my life.

  “Okay. I’ll help you.”

  “You will?” Alum asked.

  I nodded. “Yes.” And I did help people. I helped people who had lost loved ones find closure. I had to help this ghost find closure, so he could finally leave this world and be at peace.

  Alum smiled. “I wonder what’s on the other side,” he said. And then he vanished.

  Chapter 3

  I hate flying. If there were a way to get from one point to the other in the same amount of time, I would surely do it, especially if it did not involve a lot of human contact.

  I liked people well enough, but then there was The Public. People were polite and respectful. They placed value on your time and privacy. Yet for some reason, The Public seemed to think I was not worthy of basic courtesy.

  I did my best to ignore the people nearby who whispered among themselves. I had seen neon signs that were less conspicuous as they tried to sneak glances and camera shots of me. I suppressed a sigh as I refocused my attention on googling Brady Wayland on my iPad.

  Unfortunately, I was not finding much of anything apart from stories of his death and various sites with filmographies. While Brady Wayland had been in several major movies, the parts were secondary. It seemed that this film was supposed to be his chance at the big time. No wonder he was willing to go as far as he did to get into character.

  “Hey! It’s that fortune teller!” someone announced in a loud voice.

  I looked up, irritated.

  A man in a tattered cap with a fishhook sticking out of it was strutting up with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. “I didn’t know broomsticks had layovers.”

  I suppressed a groan. There was always someone, a skeptic, or someone who thought my gift was the devil’s work. “I’m a medium, actually,” I corrected him with a professional smile, and then looked back down at my iPad.

  “A medium what?” he asked, snickering.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m in the middle of something here.” I gestured at my screen.

  “What?” he demanded, throwing out his arms in exaggerated bewilderment. “You only talk to dead people?”

  My wave of irritation spiked. I was just sitting here, minding my own business, just like dozens of others waiting to board the plane.

  “What do ghosts look like? Like, decayed and stuff?”

  “Excuse me.” I collected my things and stood up.

  “Wait! Before you go, check me out. Do I, like, have any ghosts haunting me and stuff?” The man spread his arms.

  “I’m not doing readings right now,” I said as I pushed past him.

  “Oh come on! One little peek. Are you scared of what you’ll see?”

  I elbowed my way into the crowd, and worked my way toward the information desk. It was almost fifteen minutes past the expected boarding time, and I was concerned that I had missed a delay announcement.

  The attendant looked like she would have rather been anywhere else but behind the desk. Her full attention was fixated on the screen of her phone.

  I cleared my throat. “Excuse me.”

  The woman gave no hint of having heard me.

  “I’m sorry, but when will our flight be boarding?”

  The woman snapped her head up and held out her hand. I handed her my ticket. She looked at it briefly. “It’s delayed.” She handed the paper to me.

  “I thought as much. How long is the delay?”

  The young woman shrugged her shoulders and turned her attention back to the screen.

  I sighed. “Is there anyone I can talk to about my flight?”

  “I’m on break now,” the girl said with complete disinterest. “I can’t help you.”

  By the time I sank down in my seat two hours later, I felt a migraine coming on. To make matters worse, they had confiscated my aspirin and ibuprofen during bag checks. I had never had an issue bringing them on a plane before, but apparently they were being extra vigilant today. Or did someone on the security staff have a headache, too? I always wondered about such things, ever since the time they confiscated my expensive nail clipper in New Zealand some years ago. Did they really believe I could harm someone with a nail clipper?

  And, as if sensing that I was lacking in medication, right behind me were two children who were arguing about everything imaginable from ownership of a game to who was breathing on whom, interjected with loud exclamations of “Mom!” The mother in question was distracted by a third, who seemed determined not to stay in her seat belt. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples as I listened to the dramas unfold.

  “Oh my goodness!” a new voice chimed in, and my eyes flew open as someone flopped down in the empty seat beside me. As my eyes came into focus, I saw a woman smiling from ear to ear. “I’m the biggest fan of your show. I’ve been to four. I get goose bumps every time!”

  I smiled politely. “Thank you.” Can I possibly hide in the restroom for the entire flight? I wondered.

  “I hate to brag, but I have a touch of the gift, too.” The woman leaned closer to me. “I’ve seen spirits ever since I was a little girl.”

  “Is that so?” I wondered if I would be able to get my seat changed.

  “Yes. Your mother is a very nice lady.” The woman gestured at my shoulder. “She’s standing right behind you, but you know that of course.”

  I lurched forward as one of the brats behind me kicked the seat hard, right in my lower back. My mother was alive and well, and on a Christmas cruise with my father. I reached up to adjust the cold air blasting on me. To my dismay, I found the control switch did not respond.

  The woman bounced in her seat with glee. “I think it runs in my family, but no one else admits it. How did your family take it when you told them you could see ghosts?”

  “That question is a little too personal,” I said politely but firmly.

  The woman shot me a sympathetic look. “Oh, is it that bad? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” She patted my shoulder hard. “People like us have to deal with not being accepted by those we care about. It’s the curse of being related to the mundane. They just have a hard time accepting what they don’t understand, especially when it comes to seeing ghosts.”

  “You can see ghosts?” one of the boys chimed in.
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  I looked behind me to see him hanging over the back of my seat.

  “The plane is haunted!” the other child said at the top of his lungs.

  “The plane is not haunted!” the mother snapped. She tapped me on my shoulder. “What’s wrong with you two?”

  A flight attendant paused on her patrol through the aisle. “Is something the matter?”

  “I’ll say so! Those women are telling my kids the plane is haunted!” The woman jabbed her finger in my direction. As if on cue, her little girl’s face scrunched up, signaling a coming meltdown.

  “That simply isn’t true!” I said.

  The flight attendant smiled thinly at us. “Ladies, please don’t upset the other passengers.”

  “Sheesh, what got her pants in a twist?” the woman asked me conspiratorially.

  I almost wanted to cry with relief when the plane edged forward. Soon I would be home, reunited with my cats, and soaking in a hot tub. Only two hours to go.

  “I hope we have a safe flight,” the woman said. “My uncle died in a plane crash. I think both wings snapped clean off.”

  “The plane is gonna crash?” one of the boys asked.

  I turned around quickly. “Oh no, of course not!” The mother glared at me, but thankfully remained silent.

  The woman twisted in her seat. “While we’re here, why don’t I read your palm? Then you can tell me where my uncle hid his will. I just know he left it somewhere silly. It’s just how he was. I was his favorite, so I know he has something outlined in it for me. You can see him, can’t you? Blonde, dimples, and a crazy looking Hawaiian shirt?”

  I covered my eyes with the heels of my hands. My temples throbbed with each heartbeat. The chronicles of the ill-behaved, seat-pushing-kicking-climbing children and their snappy mother played out in the background, and the woman’s chattering in my ear about her uncle droned on incessantly.

  Next time I was driving, even if it took me three days.

  Chapter 4

  I staggered from the taxi with a throbbing headache straight to the idyllic scene of my garden. My lavenders were in full bloom, as were my roses, which managed to peek through the giant flourishing weeds of every type and description. I inhaled the heavenly scent of the old blooms and the lilac tree. The honeysuckle was out, but the wisteria had long gone. In this mountain area of Australia, wisteria only flowers at the end of September. I always miss my garden when I’m traveling.

  I sighed with relief as I zombie-shuffled through the door of my cozy little cottage, dragging my bag to the end of the couch. My first job was to open all the windows. The house had a dank, musty smell from being shut up for weeks. I sank heavily into the soft cream couch and tried to ignore the protests of my legs and back. I flopped over sideways into the fringed pillows with a loud groan, wishing that I could sink in between the cushions and hide there for the next six months.

  I was looking forward to a nice bath and a homemade meal, but first, I just wanted to lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling for few moments to enjoy the quiet. My relatives would be here in the morning. My family took it in turns to have Christmas at someone’s house, and this year the doubtful pleasure was mine. There was my father’s brother, Uncle Tim, and his daughter, Christina. Both were overly fond of wine. Clara was a cousin on my mother’s side. I tensed up just thinking about her. Well, Clara herself was all right, apart from the fact she insisted that everyone call her ‘Rainbow’. It was her son who was the problem. I shuddered at the very thought of him. Luke was four years old, but still appeared to be going through the Terrible Twos stage, most likely due to the fact that Clara refused to discipline him. I would have to hide all my breakables—and knives for that matter.

  I muffled my groan with the pillow when someone knocked on the door. I had just spent more than three weeks in motel rooms and talking to strangers, followed by the worst possible plane ride I could ever imagine, and this was my only opportunity for peace before the relatives arrived en masse.

  Could I pretend I wasn’t home? I seriously considered it, but whoever it was might have seen me getting out of the taxi. No hope, the person was knocking incessantly. I left the comfort of the couch and dragged myself to my feet. My headache sprang up anew, reminding me that my medicines had been confiscated a few hours and three screaming kids ago. I really needed to readdress my travel choices.

  “Just a minute!” I called out, fighting the impulse to chase off the offending guest with a water sprayer.

  “Hi, Constance,” I said as I opened the door, and then I staggered back as she shoved a huge bag full of pet food into my arms.

  “Hi! My goodness, did you take the scenic route to get home? You should have been home ages ago!” Constance leaned down to collect the two pet carriers. “I brought the crazy cat lady starter kit. I hope you’re ready to deal with two grumpy cats that missed their mama!”

  I set the bag by the door. “This is a surprise. Why did you collect my cats from the cat boarding lady? I told her I’d collect them at six.”

  “I thought I’d help you and collect them for you.” Constance pushed past me with one of the cat carriers. “It was no problem, given that you paid in advance. You really should move your show closer to home. You’d save a great deal of money, and look at the business the town would get!”

  I smiled politely. The town was so small that it couldn’t afford a stop sign. Of course, if I dared to point that out to Constance, she would be here for hours telling me why her theory was correct.

  “I have to get some aspirin and then I’ll let the cats out.” I downed two aspirin and then opened the carrier doors. The cats peered out, each glaring at me for daring to go away and leave them, but neither ventured outside the carriers.

  “Here, Possum. Come on, Lily,” I said hopefully.

  Constance shook her head. “It really is irresponsible of you to have two cats when you’re not home for weeks at a time.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Constance, you know that Sabrina found them as abandoned kittens and brought them home when I was still married.” I was upset to mention my daughter. Sabrina hadn’t spoken to me in ages.

  Constance chose to ignore my remark, and took me by the arm. “Let’s go out for dinner, and by the time we get back, they’ll have come out.”

  I shook my head. “Constance, I’m utterly exhausted. I really need to have a nap.” I sat down on the couch again and lay back. “I’m just so tired.” I yawned widely for emphasis.

  Constance pouted. “Well, if you don’t want to have dinner with me, I guess I have to go alone.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “Thanks for bringing the cats back. We’ll catch up soon.” That’s the last thing I remember. I must have fallen asleep.

  I woke up, and through my sleep-induced haze saw the familiar gold and oak ceiling fan. I made a mental note to replace it with a modern white one. It was night, and I felt a heavy weight on my legs. Two cats meowed in protest as I tried to move.

  I looked around the room. The curtains were open, and the moon streamed in. The moon was waxing, and it reflected brightly from the TV. And then I saw a man sitting in the chair opposite.

  I screamed and leaped to my feet. The cats shot out of the room. I threw a cushion at him, and it passed straight through him.

  The intruder held his hands up in surrender. “Hey!” he protested. “I’m so sorry! I figured you were used to ghosts in your house.”

  “No!” I snapped. “I’m not used to seeing ghosts. I told you that. You’re the first one I’ve ever seen.”

  Alum shot me an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a scare. I tried to knock, but...” He made to knock his fingers against the coffee table, but his hand passed easily through the solid wood. He gave a rueful smile. “It didn’t exactly work out.”

  I reached a hand up to check my hair, straightening the wild strands that had worked their way loose during my sleep. “What are you doing here?”

  He interlocked his fingers.
“I was going to try to find some answers, and track down my partner, but I can’t seem to figure out where to go. I can’t touch anything. I can’t even remember some things, as odd as that sounds.”

  “But you managed to follow me here?” I asked. A ghost could travel, but I had always assumed that they needed some sort of spiritual anchor.

  Alum shrugged. “I don’t know how it happens. I keep trying to find my old partner, but I’m not able to. Is this normal?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “I interpret the impressions that the dead leave behind. It’s closer to listening to a message they left, than talking to the actual ghost. This whole thing is a first for me.”

  “Wonderful,” Alum said dryly. “Don’t mind me. It’s been a frustrating day.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said. “Perhaps we should look into your crossing over.”

  “My what?” he asked, gazing at me for a few seconds. His eyes widened slightly as my suggestion sank in. “Oh, that. Nope. No can do. My partner killed me. There is a civilian dead, and my partner is somehow mixed up in the organized crime ring. There’s no way I can just, what? Head toward the light? Fade out? What happens?”

  I raised my hands. “Who knows?”

  “Regardless, I need to get to the bottom of this before a lot more people get hurt. If Jason Taylor already has thugs on a killing spree, then there’s no telling how much damage he’ll do.”

  “I still don’t know what I can do about it,” I said. I wasn’t sure that I could actually do anything, but it was apparent that the man was not going to rest in peace while things were left as they were.

  “I need to borrow your eyes for a few minutes.”

  I held up a hand in warning and look a step backward. “No way! No possessions!”

  “That’s a real thing?” Alum looked skeptical as he pointed to the computer in the corner. “I just need you do an internet search for me.”