Haunt Couture and Ghosts Galore (22 page)

Chapter 1

A police car zoomed by me with its sirens blaring and lights swirling. Not ten seconds later, another police car sped by my red 1948 Buick Convertible. Cotton-ball clouds drifted like sailboats across the blue sky. The sun popped in and out from behind the clouds, warming up the morning, but the air had shifted. Fall had arrived in Sugar Creek, Georgia. Not that it would bring a big change. Nonetheless, I loved this time of year.

I had left my house bright and early so that I wouldn't be late for my meeting with Juliana McDaniel. The author had contacted me last week for an interview. She was writing a book about vintage fashion and apparently she wanted my expertise. Of course I was flattered that she'd asked. My name is Cookie Chanel and I'm a vintage clothing connoisseur.

Since Juliana had never been to Sugar Creek, I decided to meet her at the edge of town at a little café called Sweet Southern Charm. The food was decent, but nothing compared to my friend Dixie Bryant's place Glorious Grits. I hoped Dixie didn't find out about my trip or she'd think I was cheating on her diner.

This morning I'd decided to wear a pair of 1950s classic white, yellow, and gray checkered plaid knee-length shorts and a white short-sleeved Oscar de la Renta sweater. I finished my outfit with a pair of Salvatore Ferragamo navy blue flats. I'd found the sweater at a yard sale for the out-of-this-world price of one dollar. That steal had put me on cloud nine for the rest of the day.

The ghost sitting beside me in the passenger seat of my car had decided to wear Louis Vuitton black slacks and a pale yellow silk Carolina Herrera blouse for our meeting. Yes, I said ghost. Although she wasn't into vintage clothing as much as me, she still had impeccable taste.

Charlotte Meadows, the late socialite and businesswoman from Sugar Creek, was now one of my best friends. She was opinionated and stubborn, but she could be a real doll sometimes too. My best friend Heather Sweet didn't share my opinion of Charlotte. They fought like cats and dogs most of the time. Heather owned the occult shop next door to my boutique. Heather was a non-psychic psychic. But more about that later.

“What do you think is happening?” Charlotte leaned forward in the seat for a better view down the road.

I glanced in the rear-view mirror and noticed more emergency vehicles. “Whatever it is, it must be serious. I hope everyone is okay.”

A little farther down the road and I spotted that it was blocked off. No traffic was being allowed through. Police cars had surrounded a black vehicle stopped at the traffic sign. An ambulance whizzed past.

“Oh, maybe it's a fugitive on the run,” Charlotte said with a little too much excitement.

“I certainly hope not.”

“Isn't that the detective's car?” Charlotte pointed.

Detective Dylan Valentine stood at the side of the road, talking with another officer. He'd recently come to the Sugar Creek Police Department from Atlanta. That was something that we had in common, since I'd lived there for a number of years before deciding to come home and open up the boutique.

Charlotte described Dylan as the cat's meow. She was pretty accurate about that. Dylan's six foot stature had the perfect muscle proportion. His clothing always fit like he'd stepped off the page of a magazine. Dylan wore his thick dark hair short and cropped. He wore a white shirt that was rolled up to his elbows and tan trousers.

Charlotte tapped on the car's dashboard to grab my attention. The breeze caused by her motion made the fuzzy dice dangling from my rear-view mirror swing from side to side. “You should pull over and see what happened.”

Did I mention that Charlotte was persistent and kind of bossy?

Not because she told me to, but because I was a little curious, I decided to check it out. “I suppose I can't get past anyway. Juliana will wonder what happened to me.”

“She'll learn that you're always late anyway.”

“I am not always late. Just a little rushed, that's all.” I steered the car to the side of the road and shoved it into park.

A few cars had lined up on the road, waiting to get through the intersection. I climbed out from behind the wheel and crossed the street. Dylan spotted me just as I made it to the other side. He frowned and immediately headed my way.

“Cookie, what are you doing here?” Concern filled Dylan's voice.

“I was supposed to meet someone at the diner down the road.” I glanced at my watch. “Looks like I need to call her and let her know I'll be late. Was there an accident?”

“We're not sure what happened yet.” His answer was cryptic.

“I hope it's not serious.” I craned my neck for a closer look at the black car. “Why are they covering the car with that . . .”

Before I finished the sentence I realized what was going on. The person in the car was dead. When I looked at Dylan, he gave me a look of understanding.

“The person's a goner, can't you tell,” Charlotte said with a cluck of her tongue.

Leave it to Charlotte to get right to the point.

“Do you know who it is?” I asked.

Dylan ran his hand through his thick hair. “Not yet . . . a young female.”

“That's tragic,” I said, almost under my breath.

We stared in silence at the scene for a moment. Law enforcement and other emergency workers moved around the scene like a colony of ants. A few other people looked on in curiosity like us. An officer waved at Dylan, grabbing our attention.

Dylan's blue eyes held a magnetism that I couldn't quite put into words. “I'll be back in a minute, wait for me, okay?”

I wrapped my arms in front of my waist. “Sure. I'll be here.”

Where else was I going anyway?

“He's so handsome and sweet. You really got a good one with him,” Charlotte said dreamily.

“I don't know that I have him.” I looked down at my shoes so it wouldn't look as if I was talking to myself. “We'll see where things go.”

Dylan and I had gone out a few times and I enjoyed his company. My grandmother Pearl always told me to be cautious though, never give my heart away too soon. She'd been full of great advice, like never leave home without your red lipstick, pearls, and mascara. Granny Pearl was a Southern woman who never left home without a full face of makeup, white gloves, and hat.

Granny Pearl had been the one who gave me my nickname Cookie. My real name is Cassandra Chanel. Not only did Granny Pearl and I look alike with the same brown hair and eyes, but just like me, fashion was her passion. Her favorite designer was Coco Chanel. So with my love of cookies, the name Cookie seemed like a perfect fit with the last name Chanel. Now everyone called me Cookie.

“She's right, you know. The man is handsome. Are you dating?” the woman asked, breaking my thoughts.

I looked to my left to see a young blond woman standing next to me in the spot where Dylan had just been. I hadn't seen her approach. Upon further inspection, I noticed she was wearing a cute 1960s white vintage skirt with a little pink floral pattern. If my memory was correct, the designer was Pauline Trigere. Her top was a pretty pale pink, and although not vintage, it matched perfectly with the skirt. There was something strange about this woman though, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. She caught me staring at the skirt, so I had to say something.

“Your skirt, it's vintage.” I pointed.

She reached down and touched the fabric. “Yes, I love vintage.”

“Me too. What a coincidence. I own a vintage clothing store. It's Vintage Y'all in Sugar Creek.” I motioned toward downtown Sugar Creek.

The blonde didn't look at me. Instead she was fixated on the scene of the accident, studying every move everyone made.

“I was supposed to meet you,” she said in a soft voice.

“Oh, you're Juliana. I'm glad that you made it past the traffic.” I stuck out my hand. “It's nice to finally meet you.”

That explained why she was wearing vintage.

“I'm not sure what happened to me. It happened so fast.” She still didn't take her eyes off the accident.

I quirked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“That's my car.” She pointed at the black Toyota surrounded by police.

A small gasp slipped from my lips. Oh no, not again.

Chapter 2

Charlotte sat in the front seat of my car because she refused to give up her seniority. She always called shotgun. Juliana was too shocked about the fact that she was dead to even care if she sat in the backseat. Charlotte had been in ghost form longer, and had come to grips with it. Juliana had not. Like everything Charlotte had done while living, she mastered the whole haunting thing. She knew all the details of navigating the spirit world. Charlotte would be able to show Juliana the ins and outs.

Dylan had said he'd be in touch since he would be on the scene for a while longer. He had no idea I had the victim in the car with me. Obviously, my meeting plans had changed, so I'd decided to go back to my boutique. I was headed to downtown Sugar Creek with one more ghost than I'd left with.

I peeked in the rearview mirror at Juliana. She stared straight ahead in shock. I was at a loss for words. Even though I was growing accustomed to being around ghosts by now, it was still awkward finding just the right words to say. If someone had told me six months ago that I would be communicating with the dead, I would've never believed it. Just walking past the cemetery had creeped me out. Now I was driving around with two ghosts as passengers in my car. It was like I was the shuttle service for the afterlife. Next stop, eternity.

I exchanged a look with Charlotte. She tossed her hands up as if to say “I don't know what to do.” She was supposed to be the expert at this whole death thing. She should know what to do.

“Can I do anything for you?” I directed my question toward Juliana.

She leaned forward and placed her elbows on the back of the leather seat. “This just doesn't make sense. One minute I'm driving along the highway enjoying my favorite Taylor Swift song, and then the next minute, I'm dead.”

“Did you have an accident? What happened?” I made a right turn.

She plopped back onto the seat. “I knew I was dead instantly because I was looking at my body in the car. Can you believe it? I was literally standing outside the car, looking at myself. I mean, I've heard about these situations where people die and tell you what it's like when it happened. But they go back into their bodies. I stayed out.” She threw her hands up. “So here I am. Now what?”

Now what indeed.

“She's a dramatic one, isn't she?” Charlotte rolled her eyes.

Juliana glared at Charlotte. “Who are you?”

Charlotte turned slightly in her seat so that she could eye Juliana up and down with her laser-like focus. “Who am I? Who am I?”

Uh-oh. Charlotte did have a bit of a quick temper.

“I'm the first ghost around here and I will always be first. So don't you forget it.” She waved her finger at Juliana.

“Juliana, this is Charlotte Meadows. She's dead too. She was murdered a few months back.”

“Please tell her that I was the best businesswoman this side of the Mason Dixon line.” Charlotte tilted her head up.

“I think you just told her, Charlotte,” I said.

“She just follows you around?” Juliana asked.

“And what do you think you're doing, missy?” Charlotte huffed.

“I just got here. I don't know what I'm doing,” Juliana said. “Cookie, you will let me know as soon as the detective tells you what happened to me?”

I steered the car onto Main Street. “Of course, absolutely, I will let you know right away.”

I had a feeling Juliana would be around to hear the whole thing. How could I get rid of Juliana? I couldn't have two ghosts again. Deep down I knew this ghost wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.