Who Invited the Ghost to Dinner: A Ghost Writer Mystery Read online

  “I like my quiet life and my clothes.”

  “But you have to admit that you really enjoyed solving that mystery last year. Have you seen your ‘client’ recently?”

  “No, and I’m not expecting to,” I said. My ‘client’ had been a ghost who hired me to solve his murder. While I found it quite unnerving to discover I could see and talk to ghosts, I did enjoy the excitement of finding the truth. But I wasn’t planning to ever do it again. The only “ghosts” I wanted to deal with were the living, breathing people who wanted me to ghostwrite a story for them. “We’re getting sidetracked here. I need to figure out how to tell Mike and my mother what’s going on.”

  “Dinner in a restaurant,” Randy suggested. “There’s no way your mother will make a scene in public.”

  “That’s perfect!”

  “We can go to that new Mexican restaurant that just opened near the edge of town. I’ve been dying to try it.”

  “We?”

  “You don’t think I’m going to miss this, do you? I want to see how many shades of red Mike’s face is going to turn when you tell him his grandfather is married.” He got a thoughtful look on his face. “Doesn’t that make you two related now?”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Better make sure. It could put quite a crimp in your relationship.”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head as I pulled my phone out to call everyone.

  ***

  “Cam, don’t forget that we’re going to be setting up for the dinner and a show on Thursday night,” Mother said during dinner. “I need you there to make sure the tables are set, the costumes are ready, and that everyone knows their lines.”

  “I thought that was your job.”

  “It was, until Cynthia McDaniels called last night. She got into an argument with Simon Edwards, the lead male actor, and absolutely refuses to work with him anymore.”

  “What was the argument about?”

  “He called her an interfering, dominating control freak who knew nothing about acting, and that if she didn’t leave him alone, he was going to shove the script down her throat and quit.”

  “If he was upset with Cynthia, I’m sure the language he used was more colorful,” Mike chuckled.

  “Yes, it was,” Mother agreed, “and Cynthia enjoyed telling me every single word. She is an irritating woman.”

  “But if it wasn’t for her,” I told Mother, “we wouldn’t be holding the dinner theatre in the first place.”

  “I know,” she sighed. “Frankly, I wish this wasn’t happening right now. But I felt it was better if she stepped aside, and surprisingly, she agreed. We really should be focusing on more important matters.” She turned her steely gaze on Mike. “Speaking of which, I heard you arrested Pete this morning. Did he tell you where my mother is?”

  “I didn’t arrest him,” he replied. “I just brought him in to ask him a few questions.”

  I snorted.

  “However, someone made him leave, so I wasn’t able to find out anything.”

  “And you just let him walk out the door?”

  “I didn’t have a legal right to hold him, and the person who rescued him told me that I couldn’t force him to answer my questions.”

  “Who is this person? I’ll have a talk with them and tell them to mind their own business.”

  Mike looked pointedly at me. Oh, he did not just throw me under the bus. “Your daughter.”

  “Camille!”

  “Before you have a cow, Mother,” I said while continuing to glare at Mike, “hear me out.”

  She started to say something, but Dad put his hand on top of hers. “I’m sure Cam had a very good reason for what she did, Charlotte. Let her talk.”

  “Browbeating Pete won’t help you find Grandma Alma or Walt. The best approach is on neutral territory. Just have a nice, friendly conversation with him.”

  “We’ve tried that, and we didn’t get anywhere,” she said.

  “Mother, you marched into the nursing home and demanded he tell you where they were at, or you were going to make sure they kicked him out. That’s hardly a nice, friendly conversation.”

  “Besides,” Randy said, “he told Cam where to find them.”

  Mother gasped and glared at me. I glared at Randy, who just sat back and smiled.

  “Did he really tell you?” Mike asked me.

  “Yes.”

  “Where are they?” Mother wanted to know.

  “Vegas.”

  “Las Vegas?” she said. “He must be joking.”

  I shook my head. “I verified it before I got here. They’re definitely there.”

  “Did you talk to her? Did you order her to come home?” she said.

  “No, I did not talk to her. The woman who answered the phone knew who I was talking about immediately. I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She mentioned something about Grandma Alma being banned from the poker tables.”

  Mike and Randy laughed, my father shook his head, and Mother looked like she wanted to cry.

  “But there’s something else you need to know.”

  “Don’t tell me she owes them money,” Mother said.

  “No, no, they owe her money, actually, which is why she’s banned from playing poker. No, they, um…well, hmm…”

  “They got married,” Randy said. I looked at him, wide-eyed, and he just gave me a big grin. He was enjoying this way too much.

  Surprisingly, Mike started laughing.

  Mother wasn’t amused. “Married? They got married?”

  “Yes, they did.”

  “Where?”

  “At the Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel.”

  “They were married by Elvis?!”

  “No.”

  “Thank God for that,” she said.

  “The Godfather.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “They had a gangster wedding, and the minister was dressed like the head of a crime family.”

  “Did they fire off guns after they said ‘I do’?” Mike snickered.

  “I don’t know.”

  Mother put her right elbow on the table, and covered her eyes with her hand. “I don’t believe it. Jim, we have to get them back here and have that marriage annulled.”

  “Why?” I asked her.

  “Because I can’t have my mother married to…” she glanced at Mike.

  “Married to my grandfather?” Mike finished for her. “We don’t have the right to tell them how to live their lives, much less tell them who they can and can’t marry.”

  “He’s right, Mother,” I said.

  “Your mother is an awesome lady, Mrs. Shaw,” Randy said. “If she had married into my family, I’d be thrilled to have her.”

  “But she’s too old to get married.”

  “Now Charlotte, you know that’s not true,” Dad said. “How many weddings have I done where the newlyweds were in their nineties? Several, and they were just as happy and giddy as if they were in their twenties. And just because she married Walt doesn’t mean she doesn’t love your father anymore.”

  I could tell by the look on her face that Dad had figured out what the real problem was with this whole wedding thing. “Mother, why don’t you plan a wedding reception while Dad flies to Vegas to bring them home? I’m sure they’ll let you have one at the nursing home.”

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Randy agreed. “I’m sure we can consult the nutritionist to make sure that we serve something healthy that everyone can eat. Alma and Walt will want to celebrate their happiness with their family and friends.”

  “That is an excellent idea, Randy,” Mother said. “Will you help me plan it?”

  There was nothing that Randy loved to do more than to plan a party. “Absolutely!” He moved over to the empty seat next to her, and the two of them began to brainstorm.

  “Well, that went better than I expected,” I said. “I figured she’d go through the roof.”

  “We still have one problem,” Dad said.
“We need to go get them and bring them home.”

  “Who is this ‘we’ you’re talking about? I hope you are talking about you and Mike. I’ve got my hands full trying to do the last minute details for the dinner theatre this weekend.”

  “I can’t,” Mike shook his head. “I’m down one man at work, so I’m filling in.”

  “Why can’t you go by yourself, Dad?”

  “Can you picture me, on a plane, with your grandmother? We can barely handle being in the same room together most of the time.”

  “I’ve got some work for a client to do as well, and I’m scheduled to work at the bookstore tomorrow.”

  “I can cover your shift tomorrow, Cam,” Randy said.

  Dad and Mike looked at me.

  I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”

  Dad pulled out his phone. “Let me make a couple of phone calls. I’ll get us a flight out to Vegas, and book a hotel. We’ll probably have to spend at least one night there. Do you know where they’re staying?”

  “Yes, I do, although I think they’ve been spending a lot of time at the Four Queens and Casino Royale, where she’s banned from playing poker.”

  Dad shook his head. “Unbelievable. How much did she win?”

  “I have no idea. All I know is she ran the tables, and they politely asked her to go play slots instead.”

  “She is going to drive me insane,” he muttered as he scrolled through his contact list.

  Mike touched my arm. “Did she really get banned?”

  “Oh yeah. Don’t act surprised. She’s a card shark.”

  “Now I know where you get it from,” he said.

  “I learned from the best.”

  “Thank you for making sure my grandfather gets home safe.”

  “My pleasure. I’m fond of the old guy.”

  “Want to have dinner when you get back?” he suggested.

  “If I have the time.”

  “All right, we have a flight out at seven in the morning. You better go home and pack an overnight bag. Put in enough for two days and nights, just in case.”

  “I’m actually looking forward to this,” I said. “I’ve never been to Vegas before.”

  Little did I know, by the time everything was said and done, I was going to wish I had never gone to Las Vegas.

  Chapter 3

  Tuesday

  I’m not a morning person, so getting to the airport at five a.m., with only five hours of sleep, left me very grouchy. By the time we arrived in Las Vegas just after eight, I was hungry, too.

  We rented a car and drove to Caesar’s Palace. I wanted to hit the Bacchanal Buffet as soon as we walked in the door, but Dad wanted to check into our rooms first. Thirty minutes later, we finally entered the dining area, and the first thing I saw was Grandma Alma and Walt sitting at a table. I grabbed Dad’s arm and pointed. “Let’s get some food first, and then we’ll sit down with them,” he said.

  I liked the way his mind worked, and followed him over to the buffet. There were so many things to choose from that I had a hard time deciding what to eat. But I figured I could always come back for seconds, so I quickly filled my plate, and walked over to the newlyweds’ table.

  “Well, well, what a surprise!” Grandma Alma said as we sat down across from them. “What brings you two to Vegas?”

  “Really, Mom? You’re seriously going to ask me that?” Dad said. “You’re the one that eloped to Vegas, got banned from playing poker in two casinos, and you want to know why we’re here?”

  “Pete ratted us out,” she pouted.

  “Not exactly,” I said. “I asked him nicely where you were at…”

  “After Mike threatened to throw Pete in jail if he didn’t tell him where you were,” Dad said.

  “My grandson did that?” Walt frowned. “I’m going to have a talk with that young man when I get home.”

  “I took care of it,” I told him. “I’m the one that broke Pete out. That’s why he told me where you were at.”

  “What a good girl you are,” Walt said.

  “And where’s my daughter?”

  “Planning a wedding reception for you,” Dad said.

  “How wonderful!” Grandma Alma clapped her hands. “I do hope she’s going to make those little Mexican wedding cookies. I just love those!”

  “Let’s not worry about that right now,” Dad said. “We need to make reservations to go home.”

  “Oh, but we can’t go home today,” Walt said. “Alma is in a poker tournament at the Flamingo later. We haven’t been banned from there yet.”

  Dad started to say something, but I put my hand on his arm. Coming to Las Vegas is not something a retired Methodist minister would normally do. “It’s their honeymoon. We should let them do what they want.”

  He muttered something under his breath, but reluctantly nodded his head. I knew he would probably spend most of the day in his room, reading a book or watching TV.

  We spent the rest of our breakfast listening to Grandma Alma and Walt tell us about their wedding and all the fun they had been having. As we walked out, my grandmother held me back, and let the two men get ahead of us. “There’s just one little thing…”

  I was really hoping this wasn’t going to turn into an uncomfortable talk about the birds and the bees. “What’s up?”

  “Well, I think there’s someone watching us.”

  “Someone you’ve played poker with? You didn’t cheat, did you?”

  Grandma Alma looked offended. “How dare you ask me that?!”

  “I’m sorry, you’re right. So who is this other person?”

  “I believe she’s talking about me,” a male voice said from behind us.

  I turned around, and there was a young man, dressed in a light gray suit, white shirt, skinny black tie, a handkerchief in the top pocket of his suit, and black dress shoes. He was wearing a black fedora that was slightly tipped to the right. He looked like he had just stepped out of the movie “Ocean’s 11” (the original, which I loved, not the remake, which was okay, but it’s not the same as the first one). “You’ve been thinking about me?” the man said. “Did you have a dirty dream about us last night?”

  My eyes widened at his brashness. “Behave yourself, that’s my grandmother you’re talking to,” I admonished him.

  “Who are you talking to?” Grandma Alma asked me, looking around.

  “Hey, hey, calm down, little girl,” he replied. “I think the old broad’s pretty hot. I wouldn’t mind if she blew on my dice once or twice.”

  “I’m going to complain to the management about you,” I told him. “I’m sure they won’t appreciate one of their entertainers harassing the guests.”

  He laughed. “What makes you think I work here?”

  “Because you’re dressed like you’re part of the Rat Pack tribute band.”

  “He never called them that. That was all those reporters. Never did understand why.”

  “Who never called them that?”

  “Frank. He always hated that name.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I overheard him one night at the Sands.”

  Grandma Alma interrupted us. “Cam, you do realize you’re talking to yourself, don’t you?”

  “That was a nice wedding ceremony she had, by the way,” the man continued. “A bit corny with the preacher holding a Tommy gun, though.”

  “There were guns at the wedding?” I asked her.

  “They were props.”

  “Should have been real. That guy she married is a louse.”

  “He’s a retired police chief,” I said.

  “A copper. It figures,” the man said disgustedly.

  “If you aren’t an employee, then who are you?”

  He took off his black fedora and held it against his chest. “Mac ‘the Faker’ Green.”

  “The Faker?”

  “Long story,” he said. “Not important.”

  “Why are you bothering my grandmother?”
/>   Grandma Alma put her hand on my arm. “Cam, lower your voice, please. People are starting to stare at us.”

  I suddenly realized what Grandma Alma’s problem was.

  Mac Green was a ghost, and he wasn’t faking it.

  Thirty minutes later, Grandma Alma and I were standing in the bathroom of their honeymoon suite. I was counting on our ghost having the decency to stay out while we were in there. “All right, what’s going on?”

  “I have absolutely no idea,” she said. “After the wedding, we came back here. Suddenly, things started moving from one spot to the other on the dresser. One time, the TV came on suddenly when we were asleep. When we were at one of the shows, someone started throwing peanuts at us. One of them went down my blouse!”

  “Well, you seem to have picked up a ghost, Grandma.”

  “I figured that out when you were standing in the dining room, carrying on a conversation with thin air,” she retorted. “What I want to know is why.”

  Certainly a fair question. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to know what the answer was. “I’ll try and find out.”

  “Can I be there when you talk to him?”

  I shrugged. “Why not?”

  We opened the door and went back into the room. Walt was sitting on the bed, and Mac the Faker was sitting next to him. “Do you have to sit there?” I asked Mac.

  Walt looked at me, confused. “Where do you want me to sit?”

  “No, not you, dear,” Grandma Alma told him. “There’s a gangster sitting on the bed next to you.”

  Walt looked at her like she had gone ‘round the bend. “Excuse me?”

  “Remember Stanley?”

  “Of course,” he replied.

  “Well, we have another ghost.”

  “Oh good Lord,” he muttered. “What does this one want?”

  I looked at Mac. “You heard the man. What do you want?”

  “Who says I want anything? I’m just having a little fun.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “I don’t believe you. Have you done this sort of thing before?”

  “Mostly at the wedding chapel,” he admitted. “Lifted a few skirts here and there, knocked a few hats off. Little things to amuse myself. It gets boring hanging around there all the time.”