Who Killed the Ghost in the Library: A Ghost writer Mystery Page 8

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Randy said cryptically.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I talked to Cliff on the phone yesterday, I asked him if he had a copy of the report. He said he had the original, and he agreed to give us a copy. He gave it to me before he met you.”

  “But he told me he didn’t bring it with him.” He shrugged. “Randy, I could kiss you!”

  “Oh God, please don’t,” he said. “It would be like kissing my sister. Gross and wrong.”

  “So where’s the report?”

  “In my office at the bookstore.”

  “Did you read it yet?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why didn’t you give it to me yesterday?”

  “It slipped my mind after the accident.”

  “Would you mind getting it for me?”

  Randy looked at the coffeehouse. “I think I’d rather be at the bookstore than in there with you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He pointed to the front door. I turned to look and cringed at what I saw. My parents were standing in the doorway, waiting for me to come in. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

  “I’ll go get the file and meet you inside,” he said, bolting from the car. I got out and watched him run across the street. Coward.

  The problem with being a preacher’s kid is that your parents know what you’ve been doing before you even get home. It was that way when I was a kid (remind me to tell you about the time I got pulled over in front of the Catholic church, two blocks from my house), and it remained that way even though I’m an adult. “Are you alright?” Mother said, giving me a hug.

  “I’m fine, Mother, I promise.” I gave Dad a hug before we all went inside. “Who ratted me out this time?”

  “Mary Beth.” She worked in the billing department at the hospital. “She saw your name pop up on her screen, but she wasn’t sure what had happened to you,” Dad replied.

  “Cliff Scott’s house exploded this morning.”

  “Good Lord!” he said. “What were you doing there?”

  “I was with the police chief. We were going to look for an old report,” I said. I’d have to warn Mike before he ran into my father again, since I made it sound like we were working together. “Mike saved my life. He pushed me to the ground behind his Bronco just as the house exploded.”

  “Is he alright?”

  “He had to have stitches on his forehead and his arm, but otherwise he’s ok. I need two new tires on the 442, though. The old ones were punctured by flying wood.”

  “What did the doctor say about your arm?” Mother said.

  “It’s just a sprain, and a few minor cuts and bruises. I’m fine, honest. Just a little sore.”

  “You could have been killed,” she said.

  “I’m aware of that, Mom. But I’m fine, really. There is some good news out of all this. We found the car that killed Cliff Scott.”

  “Are you sure?” Dad said.

  I pictured the car again. “Very sure. We also found the driver. Mike thinks he may have caused the house explosion.”

  “Sounds like someone had it in for Cliff,” Dad said. “I wonder why.”

  I shrugged. “No clue, Dad. Not my job. I get paid to write and sell books, and coffee.”

  Randy came in with a manila envelope in his hand. “Hello, Reverend Shaw, Mrs. Shaw. I came to take Cam home.”

  “Have you had lunch yet?” Mother asked.

  I looked at my watch, and realized it was almost 2 pm. “No, I haven’t, but we’ll grab something on the way home.”

  “Hold on a minute,” she said. She disappeared into the kitchen, and came back a few minutes later with a couple of plastic bags. “We had some chicken tortellini soup left over from lunch. There’s also some fresh bread and cookies in the other bag.” She handed the bags to Randy.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, standing up to give her another hug.

  “Just go home and take care of yourself,” she said.

  “Where are they taking the 442?” Dad said.

  “To Artie’s Garage.”

  “I’ll call him, see if we can get you a deal on those tires.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Take her home, Randy, and make sure she stays there the rest of the day,” Dad said.

  “I will, sir.”

  After another round of hugs, we left. Randy put the food in the back seat floorboard as I got in the car. “You alright?” he said as we drove off.

  “Do you know what kind of adrenaline rush you get from almost being killed?”

  “No, and I hope I never go through that.”

  “Just think of something that totally freaked you out, and then multiply that by a hundred. That’s what it felt like.”

  “Better you than me,” he said.

  “Thanks a lot.”

  Ten minutes later, he pulled into the driveway of my house. I had purchased my brown brick house with the advance I got from the first book I had done as a ghost writer. You probably read it; it was for a well-known Hollywood star with lots of juicy gossip. The house had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, living room, dining room, kitchen, and a big backyard. I had turned one of the bedrooms into an office. It was nice to have a place I could call my own after all those years of moving around as a kid.

  Randy took the food to the kitchen and warmed up the soup, while I went to my bedroom and changed into my lounging clothes. The fingers on my left hand felt swollen, and my arm was itching inside the splint. It was going to be a long two weeks.

  “Come and get it,” he called from the kitchen. I could smell the soup, and it was a heavenly smell. Then again, what child didn’t think their mom’s cooking was the best?

  After a bowl of soup, two slices of warm bread, and a few cookies, I felt much better. I finished my sweet tea as Randy cleaned the dishes. “Where did you put that envelope you got from Cliff?” I said.

  “It’s right here,” he said, grabbing it off the counter and handing it to me.

  “Have you read the report yet?”

  “Nope, I was waiting for you.”

  “This is pretty thick for a simple police report,” I said as I opened it.

  “Didn’t someone tell you it was a very thorough investigation?” Randy asked as he sat down.

  “Yeah, I know, but this still seems like a lot,” I replied, shuffling through the pages. “Hm, odd.”

  “What’s odd?”

  “There seems to be more than one report here. Look, this is the report on Stanley’s suicide. It’s only five pages. But then there is another report here, dated 1968. I bet this is that missing person case Cliff talked to Mike about last month.”

  “Who is the missing person?”

  I scanned the first page. “You won’t believe me when I tell you.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Raymond Foley, husband of one Agatha Foley.”

  Chapter 14

  “I don’t get it,” Randy said. “What’s the big deal?”

  “When I first met her, Aggie talked about her husband in the present tense. She said that he told her she looked younger than she really was. I remember thinking that her husband was full of it, but I didn’t say so out loud.”

  “So maybe he disappeared for a while.”

  “You don’t understand, Randy. Mike told me that Cliff came in to see him last month about a missing person case. What if this is the case they were talking about?”

  “Why don’t you call Mike and ask him?”

  “Oh right,” I scoffed. “Like he’s going to tell me that.”

  Randy shrugged. “You won’t know if you don’t try.”

  I called him. “Penhall.”

  “Hey Mike, it’s Cam.”

  I heard him sigh. “What do you want?”

  I decided to go for the indirect approach. “I was wondering if you’ve seen Ray Foley lately.”

  “Why?” he said warily.

  “I thought I might ask him what happened the night Sta
nley died. From what Aggie told me, he was on the property. He must have heard something.”

  ‘You know more than you’re telling me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I mentioned that Cliff had come to see me about a missing person case, you already knew it was about Ray Foley, didn’t you?”

  “No, but thanks for confirming it for me.”

  I swear I heard his teeth grinding. “How did you find out?”

  “I was just curious who it was.”

  “Didn’t you learn anything about being curious after what happened this morning?”

  “It was a simple question, Mike.”

  “And I think you’re hiding something.”

  “Thanks for answering my question. Have a good day!” I hung up as he was still talking.

  “He is not a happy man.”

  “No, he’s not,” I said. I picked up both reports and held them out to Randy. “Go to my office and make a copy.”

  “Why?” he replied, taking the reports from me.

  “I have a feeling that we’re going to have unexpected company in a few minutes.”

  Randy barely had time to get the copies made before the doorbell rang ten minutes later. “There’s no way he got over here that fast,” he said, handing me the originals.

  “He probably had his lights on the whole way,” I said, as the pounding started. “You better open the door before he breaks it down.”

  Randy opened the door. “Why, Chief Penhall, what a pleasant surprise!”

  “Shut up, Randy,” Mike said as he came inside. “I want to know how you know Ray Foley was the name on that report.”

  “Nice to see you, too,” I said. “We have to stop meeting like this. People are going to start talking.”

  “That’s true,” Randy said, closing the front door. “Word travels fast around here.”

  “How did you know?” Mike repeated.

  “Maybe a little ghost whispered in her ear,” Randy replied.

  “Shut up, Randy,” Mike and I said.

  I held out the missing person report. Mike took it from me and looked at it. “This is the file Cliff Scott had when he came to my office. How did you get it?”

  “It was in an envelope that Cliff gave Randy yesterday.”

  “And you didn’t think to tell me about this?”

  “I didn’t even know about it until a little while ago!”

  “Does anyone else know you have this?”

  “Just the three of us.”

  “Good, keep it that way,” Mike said, moving toward the door.

  “Hold on a minute!” I said. “You can’t take that! It was given to me, not you!”

  “It is an official police report. I can take it if I want to.”

  “It’s from 1968. I’m pretty sure it’s not even an active case,” Randy said.

  “It is still police property. You’re lucky I don’t run you in,” Mike said.

  “Just try it,” Randy replied, standing toe to toe with Mike. “My lawyer would have a field day with this.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” Mike said, reaching behind him and pulling out his handcuffs.

  “Oh, knock it off, you two!” I said. “You’re acting like idiots. Take it, Mike. I understand. But I don’t understand why you’re so worked up about this.”

  Randy sat down in the recliner as Mike put away his handcuffs and sat on the other end of the couch. “When Cliff came to see me a month ago, he told me that he had a lead on Ray’s case. We went over the information he had, and I told him that if he could bring me definitive proof, I would reopen the case.”

  “Did he have a good lead?”

  Mike was quiet for a minute. I guessed he was debating with himself about what to tell me. “Yes.”

  “Can you give me a clue? Did he leave voluntarily? Is he dead? What?”

  “Cliff was pretty sure that Ray was dead.”

  “Why did he think that?” Randy asked.

  “No trace of him. There’s been no activity on his social security number, which means he hasn’t been working, no loans taken out for a mortgage or a car, and his bank account was closed in 1969.”

  “By who?” I said.

  “His wife, who would have intimate knowledge of whether or not he was still among the living.”

  “So you think she killed him?” I replied.

  “I can’t give you any more details until I determine whether Foley’s disappearance had anything to do with Cliff’s death.”

  “Have you talked to her yet?”

  “I can’t tell you that…”

  “…because it’s part of an ongoing investigation,” I finished for him.

  “What can you tell us?” Randy said.

  “Nothing. This doesn’t concern you two.”

  Randy started to say something, but I shook my head. “You’re right, Mike. I hope what we gave you helps you. But I do plan to continue working on the Ashton case. If I get any information that will help you, I’ll be sure to share it with you.”

  Mike looked at me like I had grown a new head or something. “What are you up to, Cam?”

  “Nothing. I don’t want to complicate things for you by getting in your way. I learned my lesson this morning. One last question: any idea who that man is we found this morning?”

  Mike shook his head. “I haven’t had a chance to run his prints. And even if I knew something, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “Of course not,” I replied. “I understand. I won’t trouble you further. Have a good night!”

  He still looked skeptical as he left, as if he didn’t believe me for a minute, but I just smiled as Randy closed the door behind him. “What the hell was that all about?”

  “I’m going to do exactly what I told him I was going to do: continue to investigate Stanley’s death. I can’t help that it appears the two might overlap.”

  “What about the ‘sharing information’ garbage?”

  “That wasn’t garbage. It is against the law to impede an official police investigation. If I learn something that will help him, I’ll share. I just didn’t say when I would share the information.”

  Randy laughed and shook his head. “Very devious of you.”

  “Thank you. Could you call Jo and ask her a question for me?”

  He pulled out his phone and dialed. “What’s the question?”

  “Ask her how to ghost proof my house.”

  “Excuse me? Hi Jo, it’s Randy. Hold on a second.” He put his phone against his leg. “What do you mean ‘ghost proof your house’?”

  “Just ask her.”

  “Jo, Cam wants to know if there is any way to ghost proof her house.” He listened for a minute. “She wants to know why you’re asking, too.”

  I told him what happened the night before, and he stood there with his mouth open for a moment before he relayed the message to Jo. “Ask her if she’d like to talk to a ghost.”

  Chapter 15

  Two hours later, the three of us were standing on the front porch of the Ashton house. “I don’t know how happy they are going to be with us dropping by unannounced,” I told them. “But I think it’s a good idea to catch Aggie off guard right now. Hopefully we’ll get some answers.” I glanced over at Jo, who looked so excited she could hardly control herself. “I know this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance for you, but I would appreciate it if they didn’t know exactly who you are. I’ll just tell them that you two are helping me with research.”

  “I understand,” she replied, “but I do hope that at some point, I’ll be able to ask him some questions.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I said, knocking on the door.

  Aggie definitely didn’t look happy to see us. “Miss Camille, did we have an appointment scheduled for tonight?”

  “No ma’am,” I said, “but I was hoping we could talk to you and Stanley for a few minutes. We’ve come across some information that we’d like to go over with you.”

  She looked over my shoulder
at Randy and Jo, then nodded and stepped aside to let us in. She led us to the library, where Stanley was seated at his desk. “Miss Shaw, what a pleasant surprise,” he said, rising to his feet. “And you brought guests, how nice.”

  “This is Randy Cross and Jolanda Williams. They’re helping me do some research regarding your…situation. Randy, Jo, I’d like to introduce you to Stanley Ashton III and Agatha Foley.” Randy said hello, but Jo just stood there with her mouth hanging open until I elbowed her in the ribs. “I hope you don’t mind our dropping by unannounced. We have some questions to ask you and Aggie.”

  “Not a problem,” he replied. “Please, have a seat. Would you like some refreshments? A drink or something to eat? Aggie, is there any tea in the kitchen?”

  “I just made a batch of fresh sweet tea this afternoon, Mr. Stanley,” she said. “I’ll bring some for everyone.” She hurried off.

  “While she’s doing that, you and I are going to set some ground rules,” I told him.

  “Regarding what?”

  “Don’t come to my house ever again.”

  “I’m certain I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

  “And I’m certain you’re full of it, and you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  He smiled. “It is possible I might know. It was just a little harmless fun. Did I scare you?”

  “More like annoyed me,” I said. “Just how long have you been able to leave the house?”

  “I really don’t have much sense of time,” he replied, “but I’ve been able to come and go for quite some time.”

  “I got the impression from Aggie that you never left the house.”

  “I’ve never mentioned my outings to her. There are some things I keep to myself.”

  “Well, keep yourself out of my house. That’s off limits, especially if you want my help.”

  “I believe I can agree to that stipulation, provided you don’t tell Aggie about my adventures.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  “What happened to your arm?”

  I looked down at the splint. “A minor accident this morning.”

  Stanley glanced at Jo, who was walking around, trying to get a look at him from all angles. “Is your assistant feeling all right?”