Sheila Connolly - Relatively Dead 02 - Seeing the Dead
Read Sheila Connolly - Relatively Dead 02 - Seeing the Dead Online
Authors: Sheila Connolly
Tags: #Mystery: Cozy - Paranormal - Ghosts - Massachusetts
| Sheila Connolly - Relatively Dead 02 - Seeing the Dead | |
| Relatively Dead Mysteries [2] | |
| Sheila Connolly | |
| Beyond the Page (2014) | |
| Tags: | Mystery: Cozy - Paranormal - Ghosts - Massachusetts |
The ethereal soldier is not the only mystery in Abby’s life. She’s also trying to sort out her connection to Ned Newhall, the man who shares her ability and is playing a more serious romantic role in her life every day. But with plans for the celebration ramping up and her job becoming more chaotic by the minute, Abby’s finding it hard to catch her breath, much less come to grips with all the new turns her life has taken.
And when another eerie episode is followed by the appearance of a very curious young girl who seems wise beyond her years, Abby discovers she and Ned may have only scratched the surface of their special ability, and that Ned may hold the biggest surprise yet.
Beyond the Page Books
are published by
Beyond the Page Publishing
Copyright © 2014 by Sheila Connolly
Material excerpted from
Reunion with Death
copyright © 2013 by Sheila Connolly
Material excerpted from
Picked to Die
copyright © 2014 by Sheila Connolly
Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs
ISBN: 978-1-940846-30-9
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Contents
Excerpt from
Reunion with Death
1
“Abby!” Leslie Walker’s booming voice startled Abigail Kimball, drawing her attention away from the fascinating nineteenth-century diary she had been reading. She looked up to see her employer standing in front of her desk and giving her an evil grin. Leslie dropped a tattered three-inch stack of file folders on Abby’s desk, and Abby had to grab at them to keep them from scattering all over the floor. “Patriots’ Day!” Leslie announced triumphantly.
“What?” Abby responded intelligently. Well, it was still early in the day, and she’d hoped for a few minutes of peace and a chance to finish her coffee before jumping into her responsibilities for—she glanced quickly at her calendar—three school groups that were scheduled to come into the museum today.
“You do know what Patriots’ Day is?” Leslie demanded, although she was still smiling.
“Uh, kind of,” Abby said cautiously.
“I’ll forgive you for now—this is your first April in Massachusetts, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. What am I supposed to know?”
Leslie dropped into a chair in front of Abby’s desk. “Patriots’ Day commemorates the anniversary of the Battles of Lexington and Concord. You do know about those, right?”
“Of course I do. I’m living in Concord, aren’t I?” And Ned Newhall, her … whatever he was, had taken her on a tour of the battle sites the prior fall, not long after they’d met.
“You are. Anyway, while the actual events took place on the nineteenth of April, in the great commonwealth of Massachusetts we celebrate them on the third Monday in April. And, by the way, it’s a public holiday here—has been since 1894. And it’s also the beginning of the public school vacation week, which means I have to arrange for someone to look after my kids. Which is why I’m dumping this in your lap now. Great way to learn all about it.” Leslie beamed at her as though she had given Abby a gift.
Abby wasn’t so sure. She’d been working at the museum less than six months, and there was a lot she didn’t know. “Does the museum do something for this?”
Leslie gave an unladylike snort. “You’re kidding, right? Of course we do. Well, let me back up a sec—there’s a schedule of events that starts like two weeks ahead of the actual day, and includes such unique and wonderful activities as Liberty Pole Capping, the capture of Paul Revere, a Dawn Salute—lots of cannons—and so on. You get the drift. Every little group wants to have a slice of it. On the day itself there are reenactments of the battles, in Lexington and in Concord, and a big parade. It’s all in those files. Plus the reenactors get together to start practicing weeks ahead, so don’t be surprised to see guys carrying muskets around.”
“Uh, thanks for the warning. They don’t actually work, do they?”
“They’re not loaded, if that’s what you’re asking. But some of these reenactors really get into their roles, and they live for this event from year to year. So, back to the museum’s part. After the parade, we host the 4H Fife and Drum Corps, and we have setups for colonial crafts for the kids, and there’ll be reenactors roaming around the place—and of course we have some particular items in the collections that people always want to see. Like one of the lanterns from Old North Church, as you already know. We try to pull all the commemorative items together in one display, and we put our curator there to talk about them. You can handle the kids’ groups, right?”
“Uh, sure, I guess, if you’ll tell me what crafts I’m supposed to know.”
Leslie waved dismissively at the stack of files. “It’s all in there somewhere. You might have some new ideas of your own. You might want to touch base with the gift shop at the Alcott House—they’ve got some nice crafty things there.” Leslie stood up quickly. “So, you good to go? There’s an all-hands meeting after we close today, just to review, although a lot of the staff here has done this before. You can ask them about what you need to know. See you then!”
And as quickly as she had come, Leslie turned and marched away, leaving Abby dumbfounded. Abby looked at the calendar on her computer screen and realized it was April 1. Maybe Leslie’s marching orders were part of an elaborate April Fool’s joke? But the files in front of her looked real enough.
She should have realized Patriots’ Day would be a big thing around here. But she’d been living in Concord for only a few months. Well, maybe living was an exaggeration: she was house-sitting for someone she’d never met, thanks to Leslie, and she still felt like she was tiptoeing around rather than settling in. She’d gotten this job at the same time, and while she had taught before, in Philadelphia, she hadn’t been very focused on American colonial history, so she was trying to catch up and stay a few gallery talks ahead of the visiting children. There were plenty. Her predecessor in this job had done an excellent job and had left the materials in good order, but Abby wanted to put her own stamp on the gallery talks she gave, which meant even more research for her.
And then there was Ned, and what had thrown her together with him. Speaking of whom, they’d made tentative plans to get together after work, and she should let him know that something had come up. She had no idea how long this meeting she’d never heard of would take, so maybe it would be better to reschedule? But she didn’t want to do that. He’d had to postpone dinners and such with her plenty of times: his job seemed to produce a lot of crises that only he could handle. Things were seldom quite so urgent in the suburban nonprofit museum universe.
She’d let him decide. She pulled out her cell phone and hit his speed dial number, and he answered on the first ring. “Newhall. Oh, sorry, Abby—things are a bit crazy here. Tax time, you know. Did you need something?”
“Yeah—there’s a meeting here at the museum after five, so I’ll be late. Would you rather get together tomorrow night?”
“I don’t think things are going to get much better for the next couple of weeks. Why don’t you give me a call when you know when you’ll be free and we can take it from there?”
“Okay, that works. Talk later!” She hung up. Poor Ned: he seemed to have a finger in every pie at his company, which did something or other with DNA. She really should ask him more about it sometime. But they’d met through a shared interest in local history, and they had spent far more time talking about that. When they weren’t doing other rewarding things. With a sigh she turned to the stack of files that Leslie had dumped on her and started reading.
• • •
The meeting after work went quickly. As Leslie had told her, most of the staff had done it all before, and she was the only newbie. She was set free by six and stood in the lobby to call Ned. He didn’t answer, so Abby decided she might as well go home. It wasn’t far, and she felt extraordinarily lucky to have found the place, or more or less had it handed to her. It was only a few minutes distant from the center of Concord, and while it lay on a main road, it was set well back, surrounded by trees, and overlooked a protected marshland. Her main neighbors were deer and turkeys, and she thought she’d seen a fox at dusk one evening. The interior was every bit as nice as the setting, with high-end appliances in the kitchen—and even an indoor grill, which fascinated her.