Nothing to Ghost About (17 page)

Ian nodded.

“
What is wrong with you?” a
shrill voice screamed. “This is the second time someone’s tried to
kill you.”

“
Mom, my throat hurts. I
don’t need you to blow out my eardrums, too,” I said
grumpily.

Duncan reappeared and poked his head
around the door. “Laurel and Ian, we’ll need to take statements
from both of you. You both look like you could use a break, so I’ll
come back after we process Ms. Stiles.”

Mom took Ian by the arm. “Come to the
house for a nice cup of tea,” she said. “You had a horrible shock.”
She looked at me over her shoulder. “You too, Laurel.”

As soon as we got to the house, Mom
took Ian into the kitchen. No doubt he needed to help her boil the
jug. I went into the living room and leaned back on the sofa. I was
shaken.

Ernie materialized in front of me. I
jumped and would have squealed, only my throat was burning and
raw.

“
Preston Kerr crossed over
just before you reached the house,” he said.

“
He didn’t even say
goodbye.” Part of me was sad, but I was happy for
Preston.

Ernie shrugged. “He was no fun,
anyway. Well, didn’t you have the exciting time! You were nearly
buried in your work—again.”

“
That’s getting old, Ernie.
You’ve used that pun at least three times in the last week.” I
pulled a face at him.

At that moment, Mom walked in,
followed by Ian. “Laurel, don’t pull a face. The wind might change
and your face will be stuck like that forever.”

Mom hadn’t said that to me since I was
a child. Memories of my childhood, none of them good, came flooding
back. I stood. “Mom, I need to be alone. I’m going back to my
office.”

Mom followed me, protesting loudly.
“Don’t make me out to be the bad one, like you always do!” she
called after me.

I waved over my shoulder without
looking around, and kept walking. When I got to the funeral home, I
bypassed my office and went straight to the kitchen. I pulled out a
nice bottle of Margaret River Chardonnay. Of course, it was inside
a large plastic container marked ‘Salad’, which was the only way to
stop Mom from discovering it and pouring it down the
drain.

I went back to my office, locked the
door behind me, and deposited some wine into my coffee mug. I
looked around my office and smiled. I had come back home when my
father, died with the intention of leaving as soon as I could.
Instead, thanks to him leaving the funeral home to me, I was
building a life here, and I didn’t think I could be any happier,
apart from the times when people tried to kill me, of course. Now
the only test was seeing if I could go more than a month without
finding myself embroiled in another murder mystery. It would
certainly be worth a shot.

When I was alone in my office, I often
spoke to my father. I couldn’t be sure he heard me, and he didn’t
speak back, but I talked to him just the same. When he had died, he
had passed on and I hadn’t seen him since. But I didn’t know why
that meant I shouldn’t talk to him anymore.

“
Life here is crazy, Dad,”
I said. I thought he would have gotten a laugh about that. He had
never almost been killed in the decades he had run the funeral
home, and I had almost been killed twice in the short time since
taking it over. “I thought Mom would be the one to kill me,” I
added, and I could just picture him saying, “You and me
both.”

“
Have one for me, kid,”
Ernie said, hovering in front of me.

“
You scared me again!” I
said. “I nearly spilled it.”

Ernie huffed. “Next time I appear, I’m
going to yell ‘boo’!” he said. “Then you’ll really know what it is
to get a fright.”

“
Please don’t!” I
exclaimed. “I’ve had a bad enough time as it is, what with that
horrible reporter trying to kill me, and Ian being over at Mom’s.
First thing tomorrow I’m going to call a plumber to start on the
apartment.” I jabbed my finger toward the ceiling.

Ernie floated over to me. “You’ll have
to call that accountant to see if you’ll get a tax break.” He
winked.

I waved my hand at him. “Ernie, stop
floating. Why are you being so especially annoying?”

Ernie landed. “I’m bored. I’ll have no
one to bother now that Preston’s crossed.”

I shook my head. “Honesty, Ernie,
you’re acting like a child.”

He was clearly offended. “I was only
coming to tell you that your accountant is on the way.” He giggled
like a schoolgirl, and then vanished.

I jumped to my feet. Basil? Coming
here? I looked at my coffee mug. Okay, I had only had a few
mouthfuls of wine. Good. But what about my hair? I must look a
fright, given that the muscle-bound Anna had flung me to the floor.
A quick finger-combing would have to do.

There was a knock on the office door.
My heart leaped, and I hurried across the room. As I reached for
the old brass doorknob, I paused. What if Ernie had been joking and
it was John Jones?

There was only one way to find out. I
flung the door open, and to my relief, Basil was standing there,
his face filled with concern.

“
Basil,” I said. “Come
in.”

I turned to go back to my desk, when
Basil caught my arms and spun me around. The same electric jolt
coursed through me, but this time Basil didn’t let go.

“
I heard what happened,” he
said. “Are you all right?”

“
Yes.” My voice came out
unsteadily. After all, the hot accountant was only inches from me.
“I’m more shaken up than anything.”

Basil pulled me to him, but I
resisted. “Oh no,” I said firmly. “I’ll be really angry if you kiss
me again and then tell me we can never be together.”

Basil dropped my arms at once and his
face flushed beet red. “I’m so sorry about that, Laurel. I don’t
think that anymore. It’s just that at that time I thought, well,
that you might be like your mother.”

I gasped. I had never been so insulted
in my entire life.

“
I meant, overly
religious,” Basil hastened to add. “I had a bad break up, and my
fiancée was like your Mom.”

Well, that made sense. That was true
torture indeed. No wonder it had left him afraid of
women.

“
Nowhere near as bad as
your mother, obviously,” Basil continued, “if you don’t mind me
saying so.”

“
I get the picture,” I said
with a smile.

Basil pulled me back to him, and this
time I didn’t resist. He smelled divine, of cedar and wood smoke
and lime. Our lips met, and I leaned into his embrace.

“
Boo!” Ernie yelled as he
materialized at our side.

Basil and I both jumped and looked at
Ernie, and then we looked at each other in shock.

* * * The End * * *

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Next Book in this
Series

Make the Ghost of It

* * *

Other books by Morgana
Best

Miss Spelled (The Kitchen Witch Book 1)

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Amelia thinks her luck has changed when she inherits her aunt’s
store and beautiful Victorian house.

Yet has Amelia jumped out of the
frying pan into the fire? The store is a cake store, and her aunt
was a witch. To add to the mix, the house has secrets all of its
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When a man is murdered in the cake
store, will Amelia be able to cook up a way to solve the crime? Or
will her spells prove as bad as her baking?

Christmas Spirit (The
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Prudence Wallflower tours the country,
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have passed on. However, her reputation as a psychic medium is
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never seen a ghost, but receives impressions from the dead. This
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About Morgana
Best

#1 Best-selling Cozy Mystery author, Morgana Best, lives in a
small, historic, former gold mining town in the middle of nowhere
in Australia. She is owned by one highly demanding, rescued cat who
is half Chinchilla, and two less demanding dogs, a chocolate
Labrador and a rescued Dingo, as well as two rescued Dorper sheep,
the ram, Herbert, and his wether friend, Bertie.

Morgana is a former college professor
who now writes full time. In her spare time, Morgana loves to read
paranormal cozy mysteries, repurpose furniture, and renovate her
old house. She is vegan.