Ghost a La Mode (23 page)

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Authors: Sue Ann Jaffarian

Tags: #Suspense

BOOK: Ghost a La Mode
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Without saying hello, Emma said, "I lost you just as you started to tell me about Garrett Bell."

"Garret Bell was a clairvoyant who used his gifts unethically for his own benefit and to benefit others with dishonest motives. He wasn't interested in helping people or in comforting them over lost loved ones."

"You mean he used the spirits for financial gain?"

"Yes. He'd help people locate spirits who could help them find out things that could be used for other purposes. People would come to him with information about old bank heists or stolen gems, missing artwork, stuff like that, and he'd contact spirits to help locate them. If the items were recovered, he received a large fee."

"That doesn't sound illegal"

"Most of the stolen items were never returned to their proper owners. That is illegal. His services were used mostly by fortune hunters. And though he'd been charged with illegal activity on several occasions, he'd managed to slip out of it. He'd even been suspected of using spirits to convince elderly folks to change their wills in favor of other family members, who then paid Garrett a hefty fee when they collected. Usually, collection was sooner rather than later."

Emma shivered again. "That's despicable."

"Yes, it is. And the worse part is, often the spirits don't even realize they're being used in such a manner. But like us, they can often sense when someone isn't right. That could be why they fled when Garrett was around."

"You mean buzz about Garrett Bell's activities has made it to the Ghost Gazette?"

"Go ahead and laugh. But while I doubt the spirits have broadcast his shenanigans, I'm sure most of them have picked up the negative vibrations, or aura, that has built up around him over the years.

Emma was on the brink of making a nervous crack about a disturbance in the Force, but she decided to keep the joke to herself.

"Emma, are you in a visible, public place?"

"Yes, I'm in a park. Lots of people driving by. Some even walking by."

"Good. Stay public as much as possible. Don't go anywhere where you can be trapped alone. And above all, stay out of that cemetery."

"Do you think Ian's ghost-I mean Garrett's ghost-will hurt me?"

Just as Emma asked the question, the sheriff's SUV drove by again, this time moving slowly. Emma watched it. The people inside watched her.

"No, I don't think his ghost will hurt you. I'm more worried about the person who killed him. That's the real danger. That person is alive and at large."

Emma thought again about Phillip Bowers. He was with Ian/ Garrett the last time she saw him. And Phil had quite a temper. But try as she might, she couldn't see Phil Bowers going up to the cemetery to have it out with Ian. Besides, he had said he was going to take the waitress home. Then she remembered that Ian was supposed to stay at the Julian Hotel last night. Emma wondered if he'd ever checked in.

"Why did Ian's-Garrett's-ghost come to me?"

"Hard to say. He knew you could see him. Could be he wanted to tell you something, perhaps warn you or let you know about his death. But more likely, Garrett's spirit probably hasn't adjusted yet to being dead."

"Uh-huh" Emma watched the sheriff's SUV drive by again, then do a U-turn and head back in her direction.

"Sometimes spirits are in shock for a while," Milo continued explaining, not picking up on Emma's hesitation. "Some eventually pass over and never return to earth. You might never see it again."

"I see," she murmured, watching the SUV park in front of her. A woman in plain clothes got out of the passenger's side. A uniformed officer climbed out of the driver's side. They were looking right at her.

"The other man in the photo-he might have been one of the last people to see Garrett Bell alive. Quick, Milo, any vibes on him?"

"Interesting character, that one. His bark's worse than his bite. I don't think he did the deed, but I've been wrong before."

The officers started walking her way.

"Milo, gotta run. I'm about to be visited by the authorities."

"Be careful what you say to them, Emma. Police aren't always the most open-minded beings. But," he cautioned before ending the call, "don't try to lie to them. They can smell a lie. It's what they do. Tell them the truth, but be smart about it."

"Are you Emma Whitecastle?" the woman asked.

Emma nodded as she closed her phone.

"I'm Detective Jani Hallam of the San Diego County Sheriff's Department. This is Deputy Jorgenson." The woman turned toward the officer. "Let them know we've located her."

 

"HOW DID YOU KNOW who I was?"

"Mr. Bowers described you. We went to your hotel, but you'd checked out. The woman at the hotel said your car was still parked there, so we knew you couldn't have gone too far."

The detective moved closer to Emma and took a small pad and pencil from the jacket of her pantsuit. She was compact and fit, with dark hair that curled slightly below her ears. "We'd like to ask you a few questions, Ms. Whitecastle."

"May I ask what this is about?"

"We'd like to ask you about Ian Reynolds. We understand you were with him last night at the Rong Branch Restaurant."

"Yes, I was. In fact, so was Phillip Bowers."

"Yes, we know that."

Emma was about to say more when she caught sight of an image slightly to her left. It shimmered in the shadows of a nearby tree before becoming more pronounced. Taking off her sunglasses, she turned her head slightly, just enough to get a better view and hopefully not enough to catch the attention of the officers. But she couldn't hide her surprise. The ghost of Garrett Bell was back. As soon as she saw him, he started moving toward her.

"Is something the matter, Ms. Whitecastle?"

"Huh?" She turned her attention back to Detective Hallam. "Uh, no. I thought I saw something, but it was just a reflection on my glasses. Sorry." Emma straightened her shoulders. "You were asking me about Ian Reynolds?"

"When was the last time you saw Mr. Reynolds?"

Now there was a trick question. Alive, she saw him last night. Literally, she was seeing him this very moment. Sensing that the detective meant alive, and realizing that Detective Hallam hadn't mentioned yet the fact that Ian was dead, she assumed the former.

"Last night. The three of us were the last customers to leave the restaurant. Ian and Phil were standing in front of it when I went back to my hotel."

"And you never saw him again?"

Emma's mind did some quick gymnastics. Technically, that was the last time she'd seen Ian Reynolds. The entity she was seeing now was really Garrett Bell. She knew she was splitting hairs, but it wasn't really lying to say she'd never seen him again, was it? Milo had warned her to be truthful but careful.

"No, I didn't. He said something about staying at my hotel, but I never saw him again last night or this morning at breakfast."

"May I sit down, Ms. Whitecastle?"

"Of course. And please, call me Emma." She gave the detective a small smile, noting at the same time that the deputy remained standing.

"Is there a problem, Detective? I mean, why all the questions about Ian? We just met for the first time yesterday."

"You'd never met him before? Ever? Never talked to him on the phone? Or through correspondence or e-mails?"

"Never."

"Mr. Bowers seems to think he was a relative of yours."

Emma shrugged. "That's what he claimed." She peered at Detective Hallam, then shifted her gaze to the young, scrawny deputy standing just behind her, shifting from foot to foot. "You said was a relative, Detective. Past tense."

"Ian Reynolds was murdered last night. Up in the old cemetery."

Even though Emma already knew, hearing the official pronouncement shocked her all over again. "I heard about a murder at breakfast this morning, but I had no idea who it was."

"Phil Bowers says you and Mr. Reynolds were up in the cemetery together yesterday."

"Not together, no. I went up there and he followed. It was near dark, and he scared the tar out of me. I tried to run away and fell down those steep steps. You know, the wooden ones that go up the hill." Emma held her palm out and stripped off the bandage, showing the officers the still raw and ugly scrape from the night before. "I did this on the railing. My legs are bruised also."

"Why were you trying to get away from him?"

"He was a stranger, Detective, and it was almost dark. He didn't announce himself, even when I called out to whoever was there. Instead, he crept behind trees, getting closer to me. Wouldn't you try to get away, too?"

"I see your point. Was this before or after you were at the Rong Branch with him?"

"Before. Like I told you, after the Rong Branch, I went to my hotel. I was very tired and went straight to bed"

"I'm confused, Emma. If Mr. Reynolds frightened you, why did you go with him to the Rong Branch?"

Emma told the detective about coming to Julian to learn more about her family and stumbling into the fight between Bowers and Reynolds over the old homestead property. She continued to answer questions about the property and its history, and why she was in the graveyard-conveniently leaving out communing with the ghosts. She explained to the detective that she was doing lastminute research on old family graves before going home the next day. She even dug in her bag and produced the rubbing. She answered all questions, keeping anything about spirits and ghosts out of it. Partway through the interrogation, the ghost of Garrett Bell disappeared. Emma gave a sigh of relief. Then the detective tossed her a hardball.

"Emma, did anyone at the hotel see you come in last night?"

Emma knew what that meant. The detective wanted to know if she had an alibi for the time Ian was murdered. Emma thought through the night before. The hotel had been quiet when she got there, and she hadn't seen anyone on the way to her room. She'd heard folks come in later, but they hadn't seen her. Only one person knew she'd been in bed all night and never left: Albert Robinson. But somehow she doubted they'd look him up for verification.

"No, no one. It was very quiet when I returned. I showered, made a couple of calls on my cell to friends, then went to bed. I heard people out in the hall a bit later, but I don't know who they were, and they never saw me."

Detective Hallam smiled. "Not uncommon for that hotel. My husband and I have stayed there many times."

The detective closed her notepad and got up from the table. "I think that's all for now, Emma. Are you going home today? Back to Pasadena?"

"Yes, I am. Shortly." She'd never told them where she lived. The detective noticed her surprise.

"We got your contact information from the hotel," she explained. She rattled off a phone number. It was the number to Emma's parents' home. "Is this the best number to reach you?"

Emma gave Detective Hallam her cell phone number, and the detective jotted it down, saying, "If there is anything else you'd like to tell us or add, just call us or stop by the station." She handed Emma her card. "We may be contacting you if we have further questions."

As the officers were about to leave, Emma was being nagged by a last thought. The police probably didn't know Ian wasn't Ian. But then again, how would she explain how she knew? Quickly she reasoned that they would check his fingerprints and know soon enough. She didn't need to get involved any more than she was already.

As she watched the sheriff's vehicle pull away, Granny popped up, her image quickly taking shape right in front of Emma. The ghost did not look happy.

"You can't go home yet, Emma."

"Oh, yes, I can." Emma got up and stretched. She'd been sitting on the bench a long time. "I cleared your name. Isn't that what you wanted?" She put her sunglasses back on and started walking up Washington toward Main Street, pulling out her phone along the way. She dialed Milo, but it went into voice mail. She tucked her phone into a side pocket of her bag so she could hear it better if he called back.

"But Emma, it's important. Our land is still in danger"

Emma turned and faced the ghost. "Right now, Ish, all I want is to pee and get something to drink, in that order. Then I'm getting into my car and heading home. Besides, it's not your land anymore-hasn't been for a long, long time. And the man who was trying to get his hands on it is dead."

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