A Guilty Ghost Surprised (An Indigo Eady Paranormal Cozy Mystery series) Read online

  A Guilty Ghost Surprised

  by

  Gwen Gardner

  Copyright 2013 Gwen Gardner

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, or by any information storage system without written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Because of the dynamic nature of the internet, any web address or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid.

  Cover design and illustration by Corona Zschusschen http://www.sjusjun.com.

  ISBN 978-9884195-2 (ebook)

  To Chance, who pawsitively rocked his role in this novel.

  …Blank misgivings of a Creature

  Moving about in worlds not realised,

  High instincts before which our mortal Nature

  Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised…

  Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood

  ~By Walt Whitman

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 - Angels Among Us

  Chapter 2 - Spider Man

  Chapter 3 - Investigation Begins

  Chapter 4 - Remote Control

  Chapter 5 - Light Display

  Chapter 6 - No Police, Please

  Chapter 7 - Envy and Energy

  Chapter 8 - Never on a Monday

  Chapter 9 - Frankincense

  Chapter 10 - Quixley Street

  Chapter 11 - Suspicious Minds

  Chapter 12 - Good Timing

  Chapter 13 - Hannah’s Suspicions

  Chapter 14 - Dog Psychometry

  Chapter 15 - Confession

  Chapter 16 - Party Discussed

  Chapter 17 - Tricks of the Trade

  Chapter 18 - Power in Numbers

  Chapter 19 - Simon

  Chapter 20 - Bloody Bastard

  Chapter 21 - Going Home

  About The Author

  Acknowledgements

  Author’s Note

  Untethered Realms

  Chapter One

  Angels Among Us

  I sensed a change in the house. Childish giggles woke me from slumber. More than one night I dragged Simon to the kitchen to share in my sleepless misery. He swore he didn’t hear a thing. A terrible wrong on my part since he practically sawed down a forest a night with his snoring. Asking Uncle Richard about it would never do. But after this morning, dread sat like an elephant on my chest. If it meant what I thought it did, trouble had arrived on our doorsteps, front and back. Deep trouble.

  A run will clear my head and help me think things through. The trunk at the foot of my bed held everything I owned, including my clothes. I cut a glance to the closet, still empty after seven months. One day I might hang something there…not yet. Opening the trunk, I dressed in a pair of running pants and shirt, then shoved my feet into sneakers. Although steep and narrow, I slipped through the almost-hidden door at the end of the hall and traipsed down the old servant’s staircase—the fastest way to the kitchen.

  I nodded to the tweeny—the between stairs ghost girl servant—and continued on my way. I’ve encountered more than a few former servant ghosts in that passage, still going about their daily routines.

  Downing a quick coffee and toast, I headed toward the village at a jog. My feet pounded against the cobbled streets, remnants left over from the Roman occupation in medieval times. Historically protected and blocked to vehicular traffic, it made running in Sabrina Shores ideal.

  Jogging down the tree-lined lane past Victorian houses, I thought about what to do with my suspicions. I couldn’t tell Simon. Not just yet.

  Badger. I could discuss it with Badger. It’d be the perfect excuse, er, viable reason to stop by the Blind Badger. I hadn’t seen Badger since the celebration of life for his father. Since Bart’s death, Badger kept busy helping run the pub, taking care of his brothers and now school. Too busy for me - I meant friends - too busy for spending time with friends. Yes, that’s what I meant.

  Focus, Indigo.

  *

  My mind wandered back to being chin deep beneath my blankets when a downy white feather floated from nowhere and landed on my face. Then I picked it up…

  A little boy plays on a steep set of concrete steps. A huge building stands beyond, like the Lincoln Memorial with Greek columns. Everything sparkles blindingly white. A blond-haired, blued-eyed tot turns around and shows me his wings, bright white fluttering angel feathers. “Tell Simon I can fly – I have wings.” He giggles and skips up the steps.

  That’s when I sprang from bed and frantically glanced around. Bryan died three years ago in the hit and run that took his mother, but spared my cousin Simon. So what in the world was that vision about?

  *

  Gray clouds threatened to dump on me any minute. I sped up and headed toward the old market square. Nearing the ginnel, I couldn’t help but sneak a peek up the alley. Nothing but winding, cobblestoned path and a couple of tourists came my way.

  I sighed in relief.

  When I first arrived after my father’s death, I ran through the ginnel and got chased by a dark shadow. I since found out that those spirits existing in-between worlds referred to it as the Soul Collector; a dark entity surviving on the energy of others, both living and dead. And it wanted me.

  I just turned back when…

  Oof! “What the hell…” Badger sputtered as I barreled into his chest, upsetting his balance. His arms encircled me to keep us both upright. Not a bad place to be, all things considered. “Indigo! I should have known. Don’t you ever walk anywhere?” Too true. I did always seem to be running from something.

  “Badger! I am so sorry!” My cheeks flamed and surely I looked like Miss Tomato Face. Poor Badger frequently felt the repercussions of my mishaps.

  He tilted his head to the side and stared at me. Gold flecks glinted in his brown eyes. “So, what brings you barreling through the neighborhood at this hour of the morning, blue eyes?” He tugged the ends of my long black braid and bent to pick up the broom he’d been using to sweep the walk in front of the pub. He jerked back around in afterthought. “Not the Soul Collector again?”

  “No, no. Not this time.”

  He sighed in relief. “Good.”

  “You do know he—it—hangs out in the Blind Badger, right?”

  “Only until we figure out how to get rid of him.”

  “Yeah, good luck with that,” I muttered.

  “What?”

  “It’s something else. I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

  One look at my face and he ushered me inside. Not yet opened, we had the pub to ourselves. Out of habit, I glanced down the long bar. Bart Bagley, Badger’s dad, used to be the resident ghostly occupant of the far left stool but he had moved on.

  Years of cigarette and fireplace smoke blackened the low, wavy, oaken-beamed ceiling. Apart from the odor, though, the place had a homey appeal.

  Badger poured two mugs of coffee and led me to a table by the lit fireplace.

  “What’s up?” He looked tired, the blue shadows under his eyes color-coordinated with his long-sleeved shirt. Helping out the family since his father’s death took a toll.

  I pulled the wispy down feather from my pocket and laid it on the table.

  He picked it up and studied it. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  “I’ve been finding these around the house for the past couple of days. At first, I thought maybe someone br
ought it in on their shoes. But one landed on my face this morning.”

  “Okaaay.”

  “The pillows in our house are not filled with down, and neither is anything else.” Our eyes met. I had his complete attention, so I continued. “The atmosphere at home has changed. I hear childish giggles. There have been pranks around the house, like knocking, but nobody’s there.”

  “You’re always seeing and hearing ghosts. What’s so unusual about that?” Dude’s come a long ways, I’ll give him that. Not so long ago, he didn’t believe a word of it.

  “My vision is what’s so unusual.” I explained about Bryan playing on the steps of heaven, showing off his white wings. “The vision, it didn’t occur until I touched the floating feather. I think it was a psychometric vision. It all means something.”

  “What are you saying? That Bryan is here?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I guess that’s what I’m saying.”

  He shook his head. Lifted his mug to his lips without taking a sip. Set the mug back down. Shook his head again. “I’m not seeing it, Indigo. I mean, Bryan and Amanda have been dead for three years. Why would he come back now?”

  “Because the third anniversary of their deaths is coming up?” I shrugged. Who knew why the dead decided to become un-dead?

  “Yes, but why now? Why not the first anniversary, or the second?”

  “I don’t know.” I played with my napkin, trying to sort my thoughts and make sense of what I feared. I looked up. “Badger…the thing is…” Crap. How do I tell him what I suspect? What I know?

  I took a deep breath. “Why do you think Simon wanted to investigate your dad’s murder? Besides the obvious, I mean?”

  “Sorry? I don’t understand.”

  “He feels guilty about the deaths of his mother and brother. He blames himself. They picked him up from soccer, er, football practice.” Being American, I sometimes forgot the British words for things. “He lived, they died. They wouldn’t have been driving if they didn’t have to pick him up. They’d still be alive.”

  “But that’s daft. He didn’t make someone crash into them and take off.”

  “I know that. Survivor’s guilt doesn’t always make sense.” And sometimes it did. I ought to know.

  “You don’t know for sure that Bryan’s back, right?” Hope entered his voice. I hated to dash it.

  “I haven’t seen him yet, but I’m sure as can be. Psychometric visions are of things that happened. So what I saw when I touched the feather? It happened.”

  Our eyes connected for a long moment before he spoke. “What do we do?”

  I sighed inwardly. He actually believed my latest bizarre tale! “That’s what I wanted to ask you about.”

  He got up and paced. “But why? Why now?”

  “Unfinished business. Simon feels guilty. He’s sad, depressed. His grief could have brought Bryan back. I don’t know and I’m not sure how we can help.”

  He sighed deeply. “I am.”

  “How?”

  He reseated himself and leaned across the table. “We investigate.”

  Oh crap!

  Chapter Two

  Spider Man

  Investigate?! An exorcism, maybe. But investigating again? Hard didn’t begin to describe the last time we decided to investigate. The experience drained every ounce of energy from us and Badger nearly called off the murder hunt when my psychic abilities went on overload. Sure, the psychometric visions helped, but at a price. I could only do it through touching an object or person in order to read the history; it burned and blistered my hands, and even made me drunk. The Soul Collector kept turning up, while Badger kept getting knocked down. Disaster ensued from beginning to end. In a moment of frustration Badger called me a disaster. Sure, he apologized. But the truth hurt. It nearly destroyed the investigation and friendships, to boot.

  “Bu - Wha - Huh?” Yeah. I never claimed to be eloquent.

  “We investigate,” he repeated, while waiting patiently for me to use my words.

  “N-n-no. We c-can’t. It’s been too long. The trail is cold. And you know what happens to me. I can’t believe you’re even suggesting it.” No way did he forget my drunken walk of shame after just touching a half-full pint glass. My wonky stomach upchucked all over his shoes - after I wallowed on the pub floor for a bit first.

  “Look, Indigo. My dad couldn’t cross over until we solved his murder. It makes sense - we find the person responsible for the deaths of Bryan and Amanda, Simon gets closure and Bryan moves on.”

  I sighed. Crap. It made sense. “Okay,” I conceded. “But it’s completely up to Simon. If he says no, then we come up with plan B.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Absolutely. I want to do it. I want to solve Bryan and mum’s murders. Cuz when that bastard drove away from the scene of the crash, he left us all to die. That’s murder in my eyes.” Simon strode up and down before the fireplace. Excitement charged the air in the room.

  Badger arrived a half hour earlier. His wavy brown hair dripped rain from the tips, the only part his helmet didn’t protect. We sipped hot coffee around the kitchen table while I shared my concerns and Badger’s plan. I didn’t expect Simon to agree so readily.

  I’ll admit, my hands shook thinking about investigating murder again. But I swallowed my fear. “Right then.” I went into the pantry and came out with a roll of butcher paper. “First up, the murder map.” Cutting off a section, we flattened out the paper and held the edges down with mugs. It worked out rather well on the last case. We gathered information and wrote it on the investigation board until either a pattern emerged or something else jumped out at us. My psychic abilities helped out as well, even though they couldn’t be used as evidence and backfired more often than not. The most important clue of all stared me in the face the whole time during the last investigation, a clue the others couldn’t see. But not this time. This time, I would be uber-diligent.

  “Do you have the police report, Simon?” asked Badger.

  “Yeah, I do. But there’s not much in it. The police released the first one to us, but after that—nothing. You know how they are - they don’t want us to know all the details.”

  “I’ll get Riley on it.” Badger pulled out his cell phone and clicked out the message to send. Riley, Badger’s sister, inexplicably turned up with current police reports on the last case. We didn’t know how she came by them and didn’t like to question her too closely, in case...well, just in case.

  “I’ll call Cappy,” I said. Cappy had the ability to slip in and out of places unseen, an invaluable asset on our last case.

  I had rather a sleepless night, tossing and turning in my bed. I hoped that Bryan would make an appearance so I could find out why he came back. I purposely didn’t sleep in my kitchen armchair in front of the fire, because spirits couldn’t enter the kitchen. But my room stayed eerily quiet for a change. Even Franny, a specialist at interfering in my life, remained oddly quiet. Suspicious behavior in the extreme. She always had something to say or unsolicited advice to give.

  Finally giving up on sleep when the dark faded to gray, I slipped my feet into bunny slippers, pulled a sweatshirt over my pajamas and headed down the back stairs to the kitchen. Muffled voices from the television drifted from the living room. Surprising, since we rarely watched the telly and Simon never arose this early. The clock above the stove ticked off six a. m. in the morning. Simon could easily sleep until noon and took full advantage of it on the weekends.

  When the coffee finished dripping, I poured two mugs and pushed through the swinging door, making an effort to walk smoothly so I wouldn’t spill the hot drinks. Rounding the corner, the voices grew louder and I briefly wondered what Uncle Richard could be doing up so early as well. Mostly because the two didn’t spend more than a few minutes together, ever. A brief flash of familial happiness pasted a smile on my face. That’d been before I looked up and dumped coffee all over the rarely used, pristine carpeting and surprising the occupants sitting on the couch watching
television.

  “Oh, do be careful, dear,” said Franny, turning her attention back to the program. But that hadn’t caused the coffee to jump out of my hands. Bryan watching cartoons with Franny made my stomach flip-flop along with the coffee. He grinned up at me with baby blues and tussled blond hair and waved before turning his attention back to the telly. Focused on the program, they laughed, the little angel-winged cherub dressed in Spider Man pajamas, curled up next to the nineteenth century madam with her black-haired up-do and overflowing bosom.

  I stood paralyzed with shock for a long time, even though I’d been expecting it. Finally remembering to breathe, I stepped over the spill and sat next to Bryan.

  “Um — Spider Man?” I said.

  Bryan nodded and bounced. “I can fly,” he said, his eyes wide and excited. “See?” He fluttered his angel wings and skipped around the room. Although not real, the wings sparkled beautifully. Come to think of it, Bryan had no visible signs of ever being in an accident—a good thing given my predilection to lightheadedness when presented with the sight of blood. The little dude positively glowed.

  “I can see that.” I marveled at Bryan showing off his flying skills while thinking furiously about what to say to him.

  “See what?” Simon stood barefoot and pajama-ed in the living room entrance, rubbing sleepy eyes.

  I jumped. My hand went to my heart, so focused on the Bryan dilemma I didn’t notice him arrive.

  “And what’s with the coffee on the floor? I prefer mine in a mug, actually. And what are you doing out here?” Simon clearly had not fully awakened yet.

  “Simon!” I yelped, watching Bryan.

  Bryan excitedly threw his arms around Simon.

  “What’s going on?” He shivered at the sudden wisp of cold encircling his legs.

  “Bryan’s here.”

  “Here? As in, right now?” His arms and mouth hung limp.

  I nodded. “As in, wrapped around your legs like a boa constrictor.”