Merry, Merry Ghost

CHAPTER TWELVE

Soft December sunlight splashed cheerfully into the living room through the east windows. Peg placed an alphabet block—letter K—on top of a stack of seven on the fireplace hearth. This morning’s modest fire crackled cheerfully behind the black mesh screen.

Keith whooped, “Keef,” and knocked over the blocks, then rolled in laughter. He looked happy and well cared for in his new red turtleneck with Santa Claus on the front and brown corduroy trousers and fancy sneakers that flashed as he walked.

Though she was pale and drawn, Peg’s face lighted for an instant. “That’s one more for you. You have five and I have three. This time, you build the tower and tell me which letter I can push. Let’s pick out a letter. How about C?”

Keith nodded, his face intent beneath the tangle of blond curls. His slender fingers hovered over a mound of blocks.

I smiled though I was restive and hungry. Last night, lurking in the kitchen, I’d managed a lovely dinner, taking advantage of the generous outpouring of food from friends and church ladies. However, breakfast had been hit-or-miss, cadging tidbits while Jake, Gina, Peg, and Keith ate largely. Keith had beamed a brilliant smile at me, but he had a mouthful of waffle and didn’t say hello. My measly single slice of bacon and sparrow-sized serving of scrambled eggs hadn’t satisfied. Wiggins had never explained how one was to be on the earth, thereby requiring sustenance for energy, but not of the earth with the right to sit at table for meals. Next time I traveled back to earth as an emissary, I’d have that little matter straightened out. I was confident I would be dispatched again because I’d done so well in this instance, assuming Wiggins was feeling charitable enough to overlook my encounter with the church secretary, the befuddlement of Officer Cain, and Susan’s slight delay in departing.

His small fingers agile, Keith selected the block with W and placed it in the exact center of one of the hearth tiles. Next came S, B—

Jake pattered into the living room, her face worried and abstracted. “Wade’s secretary called. We’ll meet at two o’clock this afternoon in his office.”

“Can’t the vultures wait until after the funeral?” Peg’s voice wavered.

Jake’s face flushed in outrage. “Missy, you keep a civil tongue in your head.”

“Is that horrible will more important than Susan? How can any of us go to Farrell’s office and not be ashamed? Everything”—Peg waved her arm—“should belong to Keith. That’s what Susan wanted. One more day and this house and the ranch and the money would be his.”

Jake’s hands clenched. “Susan wanted me to have this house. I’m the one who’s taken care of everything and kept the house going and made it beautiful the way Susan always did. Susan appreciated me. She told me more than once that she was glad Pritchard House would be mine, that I would always love and care for it.” Jake’s eyes swept the ornate and elegant living room with pride and passion and possessiveness.

Peg looked at her mother with compassion, but spoke with stubborn honesty. “Pritchard House should belong to Keith.”

“He can live here.” Jake’s cry was forlorn. “Of course we’ll take care of him. But Susan promised the house to me. She promised!”

Peg’s eyes brimmed with tears. “We can’t pretend we don’t know what Susan wanted. Instead, everyone wants to know what they’ll get. Susan’s dead and no one cares. She was kind and brave. The world took her heart and crushed it and she kept on going and then she had a chance to be happy, to love Mitch’s little boy, and someone killed her.”

Tears trickled down Jake’s cheeks as well. She swiped at them with a loud snuffle. “I feel like I’m living in a nightmare and someone will wake me up and everything will be all right.” Her teary eyes looked piteously at her daughter. “I loved Susan. Susan and Tom gave us a home when I didn’t have anything. Your daddy was a wonderful man, but he spent his life chasing dreams. He was always sure the next big scheme would put us on easy street. When he died, we owed thousands of dollars and our house was mortgaged. Susan and Tom did everything for us and they gave a home to Tucker and Gina. No one would kill Susan, and certainly not one of us. I don’t care what the police say, all of this murder talk is crazy. After all, someone took my car and nobody can explain that either. Susan wasn’t well enough to go out and she didn’t even know anyone with red hair. And now I’ve got to go to the church and talk to Father Abbott and see about the funeral.” The telephone pealed in the hall. “And everybody is calling and I don’t know what to say.” She swung around and ran from the room.

“Mother, wait.” Peg moved toward the hall.

Keith gave a little cry. He hunkered on the ground, arms wrapped around his knees, chin lowered. His thin face was frightened.

Peg turned. “Oh, Keith, honey.” She moved swiftly to drop down beside him, take him in her arms. “It’s all right.” She swallowed, said thinly as he clung to her, “That isn’t true. Nothing is right.” She put a hand beneath his chin, tipped his face up. “We’ve lost someone we loved a lot. You know how that feels.” Her voice was gentle. “But right now you and I aren’t going to be sad. We’re going to be glad that we have a beautiful day and Santa Claus is putting toys on the list for you right this minute and we can go to the park and climb up into the big treehouse and have fun. Then we’re going to Lulu’s for the best hamburger in the world.” She pulled him to his feet. “Let’s see who can put on their coat the fastest.”

Keith jumped to his feet, eyes beginning to sparkle.

I blew him a kiss.

He stopped and looked at me. “Can Jerrie come?”

Peg didn’t even pause. She made a welcoming gesture. “Join the party, Jerrie. We’re on our way. Come out and play.”

Why not?

I was on my way out when I paused in the entry hall. Jake clutched the phone, and if ever a woman’s face looked craven, it was hers. “I don’t know why the Gazette would be interested in the visit by the police here Saturday night. It was all about my car being stolen. Now that seems so unimportant. We’ve had a death in the family and even though Mrs. Flynn’s death has long been expected—she had congestive heart failure—it is still such a sadness for us. The police have been so helpful. They found the car and no harm done. We aren’t at all concerned with the theft now…Yes, I’m glad to help you…”

As Jake hung up, she looked both guilty and pleased. With the help of her good friend the mayor, Jake Flynn had kept the matter of a murder investigation very quiet. Until and unless Chief Cobb released information, the police arrival at Pritchard House Saturday night was now explained away.

I looked at her with some respect. Jake Flynn was more resourceful than I would have expected.

However, she was seriously underestimating Chief Cobb.

And me, though of course she had no idea I was on the case.

Instead of joining Peg and Keith in her car, I swooped in a leisurely fashion toward the park. Though only Heaven is truly carefree, I felt buoyant and relaxed. My elevated elation was not simply because I was skimming through the crisp air above holiday-bedecked Adelaide, suitably attired in an elegant jade wool pantsuit, the jacket cut in scallop fashion, a white cashmere coat, and white leather boots. Only rock stars take farewell tours, but this was my ghostly—forgive me, Wiggins—version. Everything was turning up roses. Chief Cobb was looking for Susan’s murderer. At two o’clock I would attend the gathering at Wade Farrell’s office and Keith would be named the rightful heir.

Until then, I could enjoy dear Adelaide and the holiday season.

Christmas lights gleamed on streetlamps. I took a moment to drop by the rectory of St. Mildred’s, hoping for a glimpse of the rector’s wife. Kathleen Abbott was my grandniece, and her daughter Bayroo was named after me and a bright redhead, too. My first assignment with the Department of Good Intentions had been to assist Kathleen. I was in luck. Kathleen and Bayroo were wrapping presents on the dining room table, both smiling and happy. I was careful to stay behind Bayroo because, like Keith, she would immediately see me. I blew them kisses and whirled away.

In a strip shopping center, a young couple looked at engagement rings in a jewelry store window.

Rings. I was thoughtful. I hadn’t noticed an engagement ring on Peg’s finger even though Susan had considered backing Dave Lewis, thinking in terms of Peg marrying Dave.

The two supermarkets were thronged, frozen turkeys jouncing in baskets laden with produce and cans. In the crowded parking lot of Walgreen’s, one fender bender was amicably resolved, another not. I skimmed above the crowds here and there. I loved the frazzled look of fatigue as well as the glimpses of joy and pleasure in the faces below. What would Christmas be without the overwhelming sense of so much to do for so many in so little time?

Autumn Heights Park was festive with tinsel-draped trees. Light strands outlined the fishing pier. A fitful breeze slapped water against the pilings. A dozen or so children braved the chilly playground, enjoying the jungle gym, swings, teeter-totters, merry-go-round, and, pièce de résistance, a treehouse with slides from several levels.

Keith headed straight for the treehouse. He swung onto the ladder and climbed, hand over hand, intent on reaching the top.

Peg moved to one side where she could watch him. Keith reached the top, edged toward the slide, looked cautiously around, then seated himself and, with a jerk, started down. He landed at the bottom, shrieking with laughter, and immediately ran back to the ladder.

As he climbed, Peg reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. Her hands were bare. She wore no engagement ring. She held the cell phone, her hazel eyes troubled. She was much too young for the trouble that pulled her round, kind face into a worried frown. The breeze stirred her brown curls.

“Look at me!” Keith waved his arms.

Peg waved in return. Her smile was quick. “I see you, Keith.”

I stood near the bottom of the slide.

Once again, he carefully positioned himself and down he came. He tumbled over as he landed but rolled to his feet, panting with excitement. “Did you see me, Jerrie?”

I clapped.

Keith sped toward the ladder, cheeks flaming, thin legs pumping. He climbed quickly and once again zoomed down the slide.

Peg flipped open her cell phone, punched a number. She stood stiff and straight, her expressive face apprehensive. She listened, then flipped the lid shut.

Keith ran by, almost careened into an older girl with pigtails.

Peg called out. “Slow down, Keith. Do you want to walk out on the pier?”

Keith shook his head. He was at the ladder and swarming up.

Peg started to drop the phone into her purse, then, with a determined frown, she flipped the lid, punched the number, waited a moment. “Dave, I had to call and tell you what’s happening. We’re meeting at the lawyer’s office at two. I’ve been thinking everything over. Susan wanted Keith to inherit. Everyone knows that’s true. I know what I have to do. I’m going to elect not to inherit in favor of Keith. I think I can do that. You remember that Susan’s husband, Tom”—she was talking fast, perhaps a little unclearly—“talked a lot about wills and estates and everything. That’s the kind of lawyer he was. He had a case once where the person who was going to inherit stood aside and gave the money to someone else. I don’t care what the others do. That’s what I have to do.” She stopped and breathed deeply, as if she’d been running. She almost spoke, hesitated, finally said quickly, “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Look at me, Peg. Look at me!”

Her eyes still held uncertainty, but she looked up and smiled widely at Keith. “Way to go, Keith. Five more slides and it’s time for lunch.”

I arrived at Main Street as Peg and Keith walked into Lulu’s. It was too bad I couldn’t appear and introduce myself to Peg as Keith’s Jerrie. Peg would have been glad to welcome an emissary here on Keith’s behalf. Wiggins was such a stickler about his don’t-appear-unless-you-have-to rule.

I really wanted a Lulu’s hamburger with pickles, onions, mustard, and a slice of cheddar on a bun that had been swiped across the griddle. Saturday night, I’d implored Susan to will the appearance of her purse, complete with a driver’s license. I knew without doubt that envisioning a particular outfit as I appeared brought it into being. Could I wish myself present in my jade green pantsuit and white cashmere coat and white leather boots with a matching white leather shoulder bag containing a billfold with nice crisp bills to cover the cost of a magnificent Lulu’s hamburger?

I plunged into the midst of the noon crowd, people laughing and chattering and intent upon their destinations. I swirled into being from the tip of my red head to the toe of my white boots and felt the delicious weight of a white shoulder bag. I opened the bag, found a billfold, saw a ten-dollar bill. I gave a chuckle of sheer delight. A tired-looking woman met my gaze. Her downturned mouth lifted. “Merry Christmas.” I called back, “Merry Christmas,” and darted inside the narrow café. I took a deep breath of the delicious smell of hamburgers hissing and onions browning on the griddle and hot grease bubbling with French fries.

I entered Lulu’s right behind Peg and Keith. The counter to the left ran the length of the narrow café. Four booths, all full, were on the right. There were—providentially?—three unoccupied seats at the counter. We hung our coats on hooks opposite the cash register. I slid onto the seat next to Keith. An efficient waitress with a ready smile and relaxed competence took our orders and swiftly brought iced tea to Peg, cherry limeade to Keith, and coffee to me.

Keith wriggled happily on the red leatherette stool. He looked up at me and put his hand on my sleeve. “I went to the top of the big slide all by myself.”

Peg turned with an apologetic look.

I smiled in reassurance and spoke to Keith in a tone of respect. “There are tall slides. And tall slides. Was your slide as high as a fireman’s ladder?”

“Higher.” His dark eyes gleamed.

“High as a tall building?”

He tilted his head as he thought. “Higher.”

A muffled peal rang from Peg’s purse. She reached down and brought out her cell, glanced at it. She took a deep breath. Her voice was tight as she spoke. “Dave.” There was a mixture of eagerness and apprehension in her tone. “I hope—” She broke off, listened.

I held my hands far apart. “Tall as a mountain?”

Keith nodded vigorously. “Tall as a mountain.”

“That makes you”—I touched his shoulder—“a mountain man.”

“Mountain man.” Keith giggled in delight and repeated the words again and again.

The waitress placed our orders in front of us.

Peg held the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she cut Keith’s hamburger in half, squeezed a mound of ketchup near his French fries. “I don’t suppose I’d have to say anything today. But Dave—”

Keith picked up a half, began to eat, absorbed in his lunch.

The waitress attended to other diners, often pausing for a cheerful though quick chat. “How’s that hip doing, Rollie?” “Really like that new hairdo, Sybil.” “You got a good used Camry on the lot, Milton?”

“—I know what Susan wanted. Don’t you understand? I have no right to that money. None of us do.”

I splashed ketchup on the French fries, added salt and pepper. My Lulu burger was as delectable as I remembered, and the French fries hot and fresh. I was careful not to let mustard drip on my jade slacks.

“Of course I care about us. But we can manage without Susan’s money.” Peg crushed a paper napkin in one hand. “I’m not throwing away our future. Not unless you care more about money than you do about me.” Her eyes closed. When they opened, they shone with tears.

I helped Keith add more ketchup, wished there was some balm I could offer Peg.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” She shook her head. “You see, I loved Susan. I have to do what she wanted.”

Peg’s hamburger was untouched. She held the phone, her face etched with despair. “I won’t change my mind.” The words were barely audible.

I knew the moment he clicked off the phone. Peg flipped shut the lid, dropped the phone in her purse, then wiped her eyes with the crushed napkin.

“Peg.” The deep voice held kindness and compassion and possibly something more.

I almost choked on my hamburger.

Johnny Cain, immaculate in his French blue uniform, dark hair neatly combed, blue eyes empathetic, stood next to Peg.

I raised my left shoulder and turned my face away from Keith, though that was no defense. If Johnny Cain glanced my way or at my very redheaded reflection in the mirror—that shade of jade was perfect—recognition would be immediate. Hopefully, I would escape his notice because of his absorption in Peg.

He bent toward Peg. “I’m sorry about your aunt. Since I was on duty, I couldn’t talk to you last night like I would have. Mrs. Flynn was always great to me. I know how much she meant to you. Anyway, I saw you and the little guy at the park.” He looked uncomfortable. “I was due to check in at headquarters and I happened to see you guys come in here and it’s my lunch break. I usually grab a chili dog here. They’re still the best in town.”

I wondered if it occurred to Peg that Johnny Cain had followed her car to town and seen Peg and Keith come into Lulu’s. Certainly the police station was right around the corner and I had no doubt he often ate here, but I didn’t believe his arrival today was a coincidence.

“Anyway”—his ears were pink—“I wanted you to know I’m real sorry about Mrs. Flynn.”

Peg swiped again at her moist eyes. Her face turned pink too, knowing he took her tears for grief at Susan’s death. “Johnny”—she reached out, touched his arm—“it meant so much to have you there Saturday night. We go back a long way.”

“I wish I could have been more help. If I’d had any idea when I stopped that car that something funny was going on, I’d have for sure tried to do something. It makes me sick to think that maybe if I’d kept following the car, I could have made a difference.” His face creased in a puzzled frown.

Keith sucked noisily on his cherry limeade.

I took a last bite of my hamburger, circumspectly opened my accommodating purse, and retrieved the ten. If I quietly caught the waitress’s eye and received my check, I could slip away without notice, no harm done. Johnny clearly had eyes for no one but Peg.

As the waitress neared, I quietly said, “Miss?”

She stopped. “Apple pie today?”

Lulu always melted a strip of cheddar on the flaky crust. I was tempted, but I didn’t want to push my luck. “No thanks. I’m ready for my check.”

She lifted the pad from her pocket. “You three together?”

I shook my head quickly. Fortunately, Johnny still talked. “…and the funny thing is, the car was headed out to the highway. I didn’t see it come back until it came over Persimmon Hill like a bat out of hell. When it stopped, there was just the redheaded woman in the car.”

The waitress slapped my check on the counter. “You got gorgeous red hair. I wish my hair was as red as yours. But yours is natural. You can always tell.” She nodded sagely.

As if on a cue, Peg and Johnny turned toward me. Peg’s gaze sharpened. Johnny’s eyes widened. His mouth opened.

I put the ten-dollar bill on the check, twirled on the stool to step down to the old wooden floor. “Thank you.” I turned away, heading straight for the door that led to a small hallway and the restrooms.

Johnny Cain called after me. “Miss, please, wait a minute. Miss…” He started after me.

I opened the door, stepped into the hallway, swiftly shut the door behind me, and disappeared.

The door swung in. Johnny stepped into the narrow corridor. At the far end was a door marked Exit. A sign warned Alarm Sounds When Door Opened. To the left was an unmarked closed door. Both restrooms were to his right. He should have arrived before I reached the women’s restroom. Instead, the hall was empty. He shook his head, approached the restrooms. Hesitantly, he knocked on the door marked Ladies.

“Almost out.” The voice was harried.

Johnny stepped back a few paces. He pulled a cell from his pocket, punched a number. “Detective Price. Johnny Cain…Sir, I’ve sighted the redhead who was in the car with Susan Flynn. She’s in the ladies’ room at Lulu’s…I’m in the hallway…Right. Yes, sir.”

“Reprehensible.” Wiggins’s roar startled both Johnny and me.

Johnny looked toward the men’s room.

“Shh.”

Johnny’s head jerked up, seeking the source of the sibilant sound.

“Precept One.” It was a piercing stage whisper.

I was astonished the hallway didn’t wobble from the force of Wiggins’s displeasure. He was too upset to remember his own rules.

Johnny turned the knob to the men’s room. The door swung in. It was unoccupied.

The door to the women’s restroom opened. A harried young mother shepherded out twin toddlers, scuffling with each other. “Stop it, Derek. Quit that, Dan.” She gripped their hands, looked around. “So she was in such a hurry she didn’t even wait.”

Johnny leapt toward the end of the hallway, shoved open the exit. A shrill bell clanged.

Wiggins’s growled “To the roof” was audible only to me.

Clumps of snow from a recent storm looked dingy against the black-tarred roof. I settled on a parapet in the sun with a nice view of the street as a police cruiser squealed to a stop, red light whirling, siren wailing. A similar wail sounded from the alley, joining the continuing clamor from Lulu’s exit alarm.

Shivering, I wished for my white cashmere jacket. I felt its warm embrace. I was tempted to pop back into Lulu’s and see whether the coat had disappeared. Perhaps Wiggins could enlighten me as to the properties of imagined articles. However, this might not be a propitious moment for such a discussion.

“Bailey Ruth.” The voice came from across the roof near a turbine vent. Wiggins sounded cross.

“Come sit in the sun, Wiggins,” I called out with cheer as if we were old friends pausing for a moment to enjoy a sparkling winter day. “I’m sitting on the parapet overlooking the street.” I bent, picked up a vagrant red maple leaf, still lovely though brittle, and placed it atop the wide brick railing.

In a moment, a heavy sigh sounded beside me.

I offered the maple leaf. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

His hand brushed mine as he took the leaf. “Quite a brilliant red. Just”—he wasn’t being complimentary—“like your hair.”

“How is everything in Tumbulgum?” As Mother told me long ago, it’s only good manners to discuss matters of interest to everyone.

“Almost”—his tone was as cold as the patches of crusted snow—“as difficult as in Adelaide.”

“Where is Tumbulgum?” I truly did want to know.

“Lovely place. In New South Wales in Australia. On the Tweed River, near the junction of the Tweed and the…Actually, the location of Tumbulgum isn’t relevant. You do realize that your latest appearance will cause the police to focus attention on the appearances and”—great emphasis—“disappearances of a redheaded woman. If there is anything to be avoided, anything worse than violating Precepts One through Six, it is the prospect of creating a perception of…”

I waited. The term ghost was anathema to Wiggins, though I saw no reason to pretend that a potato wasn’t a tuber.

“…otherworldliness.” The admission was grudging. “I see no way”—his voice dropped in discouragement—“to effectively combat the beginnings of what may turn out to be a legend in Adelaide.”

“Wiggins”—I was firm—“I will see that this doesn’t happen.” Whether they realize it or not, men appreciate firmness. When a woman takes charge—graciously, of course—it offers emancipation.

“Is there something you can do?” He sounded like a man desperate to cling to a glimmer of hope.

Short of transporting Johnny Cain, Peg Flynn, the church secretary, and the always suspicious Chief Cobb and Detective Sergeant Price to a remote desert island, I rather doubted I could wipe away the collective memory of a redhead they sometimes saw and sometimes didn’t. However, I am always willing to give my best effort.

“Wiggins, of course.” I spoke with utter confidence. “I’ll keep on top of things. You hurry right back to Tumbulgum. Everything will be fine here. I’m off to see about it.”

The sirens no longer shrilled. The alarm was silent. In the street, Detective Sergeant Price stood beside a police cruiser. He gestured to the north. Peg nodded.

“Be of good cheer, Wiggins. ‘Waltzing Matilda,’ and all that.” Too late, I clapped my hand to my lips. Possibly that wasn’t the most tactful song to mention since the refrain is sung by the ghost of the swagman who haunts the billabong. Once again, I’d spoken before I thought. I didn’t wait for a reply and zoomed down to join Peg and Keith.

Faintly, I heard Wiggins’s plaintive cry. “Do your best. Try to remember the Precepts. Work in the background without attracting notice…”

Wiggins could count on me.