Ghostly Interests (2 page)

“Maybe she died of a broken heart because the man she was in love with looked like me,” Zander suggested. “She could totally fixate on me because I could be the reincarnated soul of her dead lover.”

“You really have to start watching something else besides Lifetime,” Harper said, her aggravation growing with each passing second. “Now get the trap and get moving. I don’t want to spend all day here and Mr. West mentioned something about a lunch serving that starts in an hour. We have to do this, and we have to do it now.”

“And you have to do it with minimal property damage and as quietly as possible,” West chimed in. “Don’t break anything.”

“We’ll do our best,” Zander said, clicking his heels together and mock saluting before he leaned over and started rummaging through the duffel bag at his feet. A few moments later he straightened again.

West eyed the contraption in his hand dubiously. “What is that?”

“It’s a ghost snare.”

“But … it looks like one of those things you can buy at the flea market … what do they call them … dreamcatchers,” West said. “It looks like a dreamcatcher.”

“It is,” Zander said, gritting his teeth to keep from snapping at the man who would be handing over a paycheck in about ten minutes. “It’s infused with holy water, salt and rosemary.”

“And that catches ghosts?” West looked dubious.

“Kind of,” Zander hedged. “One other thing needs to happen, too.”

“What?”

“Watch,” Zander said. He exchanged one more look with Harper. “Here I go.”

Harper smiled at him, the expression not quite making it to her eyes but still heartfelt. “Good luck.”

“You, too.” Zander clutched the dreamcatcher in his hand and then sprinted into the middle of the room, surprising West with his speed and agility. Zander dropped the dreamcatcher on the dance floor and continued running until he was on the other side of the room. He was still separated from Harper, but he was a lot nearer than he was only seconds before.

Harper lifted her walkie-talkie to her ear. “Eric, are you ready with the EMF to take measurements for us to study later?”

From his spot at the far end of the room, Eric Tyler shot Harper a thumbs-up. Even though it was hot in the room he was still wearing a leather jacket and his long, black hair brushed the top of his shoulders as he hopped from one foot to the other in anticipation.

“Okay,” Harper said, sucking in a breath. “Here we go.”

“Harper … be careful,” Zander warned.

“I’m always careful.”

That was kind of the truth and kind of a lie at the same time, but Zander let it slide as he watched his best friend in the world gear up for her big run. “I’m right here,” he said. “I’ll be close.”

“You always are,” Harper said, grinning as she collected her courage.

When Harper raced to the center of the room it looked as if she was going to overshoot her mark. The haunting howling chased her and the ethereal spirit seemed surprised when it realized Harper was not only stopping but also turning back.

Harper placed one foot on the dreamcatcher and faced off with the ghost. “I release you to the other side,” she said, clapping her hands together and causing a “spark” to flood the room.

West sheltered his eyes with his forearm while Zander tried to watch the scene in its entirety and failed.

The light swallowed up Harper as an angry ghost descended upon her.

It was time.

“I DON’T
know what to say,” West said, eyeing Harper as she handed the dreamcatcher to Zander a few minutes later. “I … where did the light come from?”

Harper wasn’t one to discuss her abilities – or how they worked. That could have something to do with the fact that she had no idea how she managed to do the fantastical things she did – and it could also have a little something to do with the fact that people didn’t believe her no matter what she told them.

“That was the trap being activated,” Harper explained. “There’s a bright light associated with the gate opening. It sucks the ghost in.” That wasn’t technically a lie. It wasn’t technically the truth either.

“But … how?” West pressed.

“It’s an old tactic handed down through the centuries,” Harper said. “We read about it in a book, tried it, and it worked.” Zander glanced at Harper, a silent warning on his pursed lips. Harper ignored him. “It’s folk magic.”

West made a face? “Magic? I don’t believe in magic.”

“You said you don’t believe in ghosts either and you just watched us catch one,” Harper pointed out.

“I’m not sure what I saw,” West said. “How do I know what really happened? You guys have a lot of equipment. It could’ve been a fancy light show and nothing more.”

“I guess it’s your prerogative to believe that,” Harper said, forcing her face to remain neutral. She was used to people calling her theatrical. That was actually one of the nicer terms bandied in her direction. It was when they called her a liar that she started taking offense.

“How much do I owe you?” West asked.

“A thousand dollars,” Zander said. “We settled on a price over the phone. That’s why we agreed to come out here in the first place.” He was feigning patience, but Harper could see his hackles rising.

“That’s way too much for a glorified light show,” West argued. “How do I know the problem won’t return the second you leave?”

“Sir, we agreed upon a price … .” Zander didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because Harper was reaching for the dreamcatcher.

“If you don’t want to pay us we’ll release the ghost and call it a day,” she said. “I’m too tired to put up with this crap. We agreed on a price and now you’re trying to go back on your word. I can’t stand that.”

“You can’t simply return it,” West said. “I … that’s unethical.”

“We held up our end of the bargain,” Harper reminded him. “You didn’t. Who is unethical in that scenario?”

“But … .”

“Sir, it doesn’t matter if Harper releases the spirit or not,” Zander said. “You signed an electronic agreement when I sent you the itemized estimate. You’re legally bound to pay your bill.

“If you don’t pay your bill then Harper is going to release the spirit,” he continued. “You can cancel all of your summer weddings because it’s really going to be ticked off now. Then we’ll let this wind through the court system and, since we have your electronic signature, you’re going to have to pay anyway.”

West’s cheeks reddened. “You can’t possibly think … .”

“Release the spirit,” Zander said, his eyes never moving from West’s murderous face as he talked to Harper.

“You’ve got it,” Harper said, smiling sunnily in West’s direction. “Good luck with catching this thing again. It’s not going to fall for that gag twice.”

“Wait!” West was defeated. Zander knew it. Harper knew it. The only one having trouble swallowing it was the man in charge. “Don’t release it. I’ll cut you a check right now.”

“We agreed on cash,” Zander said, his face immovable.

West scowled. “Fine. I’ll get your cash. Just … take that thing out of here.”

“As soon as we have our money we will,” Zander said.

Once West was out of earshot so he could gather the funds Zander shot Harper an appraising look. “You used the whole
Ghostbusters
hotel scene to snooker him,” he said. “He honestly thought there was something there to release back into his restaurant.”

“I’m starting to think we should collect the money upfront,” Harper said.

“I’m starting to think you’re right,” Zander said. “Still … that was inspired.”

“I have my moments,” Harper drawled. “They’re many and varied.”

“You’re humble, too,” Zander teased.

“Let’s get our money and get out of here,” Harper said. “I’m starving. Sending tortured souls to the hereafter really works up an appetite.”

Two

Jared Monroe ran his hand over his stubbled chin and gazed down at the ravaged body at his feet. He had no idea how his first case with the Whisper Cove Police Department turned out to be a murder, but that was exactly what he was looking at.

“What do we have?” Jared’s new partner, Mel Kelsey, was in his early fifties and he looked just as flummoxed by the nude body on the beach as Jared felt. “Do we have an identity yet?”

“There was no clothing so there’s no identification,” Jared replied, his eyes weary as he scanned the long auburn hair splayed out on the beach. “We’re going to need to run fingerprints and get this body moved to the medical examiner’s facility down in Mount Clemens for a proper autopsy. When is the coroner’s van supposed to get here?”

“Soon,” Mel said. “They don’t have to come up here very often so I had to give the secretary on the phone directions. She didn’t even know there was a town north of New Baltimore on Lake St. Clair.”

Whisper Cove was a small community hugging the border of St. Clair and Macomb counties in Southeastern Michigan. When Jared left the west side of the state to come east he initially envisioned landing in a crime-laden community closer to Detroit. He yearned for high stakes crimes and intricate investigations. Shrinking state budgets forced most of the suburban police departments to cut back instead of bolster dwindling law enforcement ranks, though, and Jared wasn’t about to take on a beat in Detroit if he could help it. He wanted excitement, but he wasn’t sure if he could take that much of it.

“Have you gathered any evidence?” Mel asked.

“I’ve really only done a cursory inspection,” Jared said. “Have the techs finished taking photographs?”

Mel nodded.

“I guess now is as good of a time as any to start gathering evidence,” Jared said, sighing heavily as he hunkered down next to the woman on the ground. “We have what looks to be a young woman in her early twenties. Her fingernails are well maintained, although the index fingernail is ripped off and ragged. It might mean she struggled with her assailant. We should make sure the medical examiner takes clippings.”

“Don’t they always do that?”

Jared had no idea. He wasn’t familiar with how things worked in Macomb County yet. This was his second day on the job. When he took the position in Whisper Cove he figured it would get him in the right area to move on to a bigger department down the line. He never imagined murder would be on the menu … especially this quickly. “They probably do,” he conceded. “I want to make sure we cover all our bases, though. A lot of people are going to be looking at us.”

“You’ve got that right,” Mel said. “This is the first murder in Whisper Cove in … well … I’ve been here thirty years and the only one I can think of is Stan Sully.”

“Who was he?”

“He was a local farmer who fell on his thresher.”

“I thought you said it was a murder?” Jared pressed, confused.

“We found out he had help when he fell,” Mel explained. “His wife Sally found out he was sleeping with the barmaid down at Whisper Winery and she didn’t take it well.”

“You had a woman named Sally Sully?” Jared wanted to laugh, but the dead body gave him pause. “I guess she was bound to crack eventually.”

“Probably,” Mel said, shrugging. “This one looks pretty… beat up.”

“She does,” Jared agreed, shifting his body so he could study the woman’s long legs. “She’s got a lot of bruises. It looks like she might’ve been tossed around a bit before she was killed.”

“What do you think the cause of death is?” Mel asked. “She’s got a lot of smaller wounds, and some of them are open, but there’s no big wound that would signify how she died.”

“I’m guessing she was either strangled or drowned,” Jared replied. “The medical examiner will have to make that determination. I would have to guess that foul play is involved, though. She’s naked, after all.”

“Not necessarily,” Mel hedged. “She could’ve been skinny-dipping and lost her bearings. The bruises could be from banging against rocks. It might be an accidental drowning.”

“Isn’t it a bit early in the season to be swimming in the lake?” Jared asked. “That water can’t be much more than fifty degrees. It’s still early in the season.”

Spring in Michigan is usually short. Winter hangs on longer than people would like and spring lasts for about five weeks before summer descends. Jared knew the waters were too cold to swim in recreationally. He figured his partner was grasping at straws because he didn’t want to believe there was a killer on the loose in the tiny hamlet.

“Maybe she was drunk,” Mel suggested. “I know I’ve thought plenty of stupid things were good ideas when I had liquid courage to bolster me.”

It was a possibility, but Jared wasn’t banking on it. “We need to see what the medical examiner says before we make any decisions,” he said. “We need an identification. Do you recognize her?”

“No,” Mel said, shaking his head. “She’s not from Whisper Cove. I think I know practically everyone here.”

“That means she’s probably from one of the surrounding communities,” Jared mused. “Until we know how she died – and who she is – all we have are questions.”

Mel lifted his head and inclined his chin to the parking lot of the nearby restaurant. “I think we’re about to get some of those answered,” he said. “The medical examiner is here.”

“DO YOU
want me to burn this?” Molly lifted the dreamcatcher up, wrinkling her nose at the scent. “It smells like someone died.”

“Technically they did,” Harper said. “Yeah, go ahead and burn it.”

Dreamcatcher traps were only good for one use and after the soul was displaced from one plane of existence to the next it was customary to burn them to make sure no negative residue remained.

Harper watched the energetic college student walk out through the back door of the office, internally marveling at her blond hair – which was often streaked with some vibrant shade of Manic Panic – and couldn’t help but smile. She admired Molly’s enthusiasm and insistence on being who she wanted to be. The pink streaks in her hair this week were a little more garish than Harper would be comfortable sporting, but the St. Clair Community College student somehow made them work.

“I can’t believe you let her come to work with her hair like that,” Eric grumbled. He was busy uploading the data from the EMF recorder to his computer and he didn’t look happy. At twenty-five, he was a few years younger than Harper and Zander but a few years older than Molly. He was in a tough spot in the office, mostly because he had a huge crush on Harper that she pretended not to notice and Molly had a huge crush on him that he opted to ignore. It was a vicious – and often soap opera resembling – circle.