Who Invited the Ghost to Dinner: A Ghost Writer Mystery (5 page)

Susan looked at Mother. “Charlotte, I think we need to reconsider this. Mr. Showalter is a very important person. We can’t…”

“He’s not important to anyone here in Waxahachie, Susan,” Mother said. “He’s going to see us just as we are, warts and all. I’m sorry you won’t be able to join us for the show.”

“What do you mean? Of course I’ll be here.”

Mother shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid not. All the tables have been booked and paid for, and the fire marshal says we are already at capacity. We’re not allowed to include anyone else, or add any more tables. There’s simply no room.”

“That’s easily fixed,” she said. “Just call someone and tell them that you’re giving their table to the Ingram family.”

“I’m afraid not,” Mother said.

“Are you refusing to allow the Ingrams to attend?”

“No, just you,” I said.

“Camille,” Mother said reproachfully. “Again, I’m afraid that we cannot accommodate you, Susan. And don’t think of trying to crash the party. There is a guest list, and only those on the list are allowed to attend. No stragglers, no plus ones. But if you’d like to reserve a table for the next show in six months, I’ll be glad to do that for you.”

“This is unbelievable,” Susan said. She picked up her shawl, wrapped it around her shoulders, and then grabbed her clutch. “You do realize that this will cost you and your husband our yearly donation to the church.”

“That’s your choice, of course,” Mother said. “I’m sure the Good Lord will provide what we need to make up for your pettiness.”

Susan didn’t say anything. She turned and marched out of the kitchen. “Thanks for stopping by, Mrs. Ingram,” I called after her. “Have a good evening and drive safely!”

We heard the front door slam. “That woman is unbelievable,” I said, leaning against the island.

“I’m proud of you,” Mother said, patting me on the back.

“Of me? What did I do?”

“You stood up to her, and you stood up for me. Thank you,” she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

I straightened up and gave her a hug. “Anytime, Mother. We gals have to stick together.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lillian watching us, still with the same sad look on her face.

Chapter 7

Friday

“I
heard you told off Susan Ingram last night,” Mike said to me the next morning at my parents’ coffeehouse.

“How did you hear about that? I thought you were working that accident most of the night.”

“I told him,” Randy said as he sat down at the table with us. He took a drink of his coffee. “I had a shipment come in early this morning, so I came over here for a latte. Your mother told me what happened. Mike stopped by the bookstore about an hour later, and I told him.”

“It sounds like the two of you really let her have it last night,” Mike said.

I shrugged. “She had it coming.”

“The Ingrams have a lot of influence in North Texas,” Randy pointed out. “This might come back to bite you at some point.”

“It already has,” I replied. “Susan indicated that she and her husband would not be making their yearly donation to the church.”

“Ouch,” Mike winced, “that’s going to hurt.”

“I’m afraid so,” I nodded sadly. “But I’m past the point of worrying about upsetting the money people. Dad’s retired; I don’t have to live my life that way anymore.”

“You may not have to,” Dad said as he brought over a plate of fresh blueberry muffins, “but the church still has to be able to pay their apportionments every year.”

“They’ll find the money another way, Pops,” I said, placing my hand on top of his.

“How are things going with your new father-in-law?” Randy said as he reached for a muffin.

Dad pulled the plate out of Randy’s reach. “Just fine. Walt is a wonderful man.”

“Funny, I’ve never heard you say anything that nice about your mother-in-law,” Randy replied.

“I love the old battleax,” Dad said. “I just enjoy giving her a hard time a bit more.”

“Funny, she says the same thing about you,” Randy laughed as he quickly reached over and snatched a muffin.

Dad muttered something under his breath as he walked away. “Stop giving my dad a hard time,” I admonished Randy.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. She says pretty much the same thing about him that he says about her. Good thing they love each other, or people would really believe they hate one another.”

“If you want to see two people who hate each other, you should have been at the dress rehearsal last night,” I said. I told them what happened.

Mike whistled. “Holy cow, why didn’t you call me? That’s assault.”

“To be honest, I didn’t think about it,” I admitted.

“So you only call me when you find dead bodies?”

“Ooh, low blow,” Randy said, taking a bite of muffin. I could tell he was enjoying this.

“Keep your voice down,” I said. “You want to chase away the customers?”

Mike looked around. “We’re the only ones here, Cam.”

I sat back in my chair and sighed. “It’s over and done with now, so let’s not worry about it.”

“Sounds to me like tonight’s performance is going to be very interesting,” Randy chuckled.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“Our leading ladies could kill each other live on stage in front of an audience.”

“That’s not even funny, Randy,” I said.

“You seriously should have called me, Cam,” Mike said.

“I doubt either woman is going to press charges, not with Mr. Showalter in town. Not to mention that Richard would have a cow if you arrested them.”

“I’m sure Charlotte would never forgive you, Mike, if you ruined her big event,” Randy pointed out.

Mike sighed. “I get it, I get it. Calm down, both of you,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “What time do you want me to pick you up tonight?”

“Maybe you should just meet me there. Mother wants me to be there at five to take care of the last minute details.”

“I can do that,” he said. “Maybe we should have dessert at your place afterwards?”

“You might be able to talk me into that,” I smiled at him.

“What do you want me to bring for dessert?” Randy said.

Mike and I just looked at him.

“What?”

“Who said that you’re invited to join us?” Mike replied.

“You said ‘we’.”

“When I said ‘we’, I meant Cam and I, not Cam, Randy, and I.”

“Oh,” Randy said, looking very disappointed. Then a look of understanding crossed his face. “Oh! You’re right, I so do not want to go back to your place for dessert.” He looked at his watch. “In fact, I should get out of here right now. Boxes to unpack, shelves to fill, plenty of things to do.” He grabbed his coffee cup and another muffin before hurrying out the door.

“We’ve really got to set him up with someone,” Mike said.

“Good luck with that,” I replied, taking a drink of my Dr Pepper. “I’ve been trying for years. No one lasts more than two months.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “I usually get rather vague answers from him when I ask for specifics. Maybe he has a fear of commitment, or he likes being alone. I have no clue. But if you want to give it a try, be my guest.”

“I accept the challenge. What’s his type?”

“Not what you think.”

“We have a new deputy at the station, Joanne Reagan. About your height, black hair, brown eyes, great personality. She just moved here from Idaho. Maybe he could show her around.”

“Does she have a brother?”

“Why?” Mike asked, a bit puzzled.

“Because Randy would rather date her brother.”

“Ah, gotcha. Hm, that makes things a bit more difficult, but not impossible. I’ll do some checking around.”

“Good luck with that. You’re going to need it.”

Mike checked the time. “As much as I would love to sit here and talk to you all day, I’ve got to get to work. What time are they serving dinner?”

“Six-thirty. We’ve saved you a seat at our table.”

“Great. I can’t wait to spend the evening with you,” he said, leaning over to kiss me. “See you tonight.”

I smiled as I watched him leave. It was going to be nice to spend a nice, quiet evening with a man I was totally crazy about. The butterflies did a little dance in my stomach.

If I had only known then what I knew now, I’d have stayed home.

Chapter 8

Friday evening

I
had allowed my mother to boss me around for an hour before telling her that everything was simply perfect, and that she didn’t need to change anything else. I don’t think she believed me, but I needed time to get ready before the dinner.

Carrying a garment bag in one hand, my overnight bag in the other, I hurried toward the backstage dressing rooms. I knocked on the first door I came to, and heard a female voice say, “Come in.”

I put down my bag, opened the door, and shoved the bag inside with my foot. Rachel was sitting down in front of a large oval mirror, putting on her stage makeup. “What do you want?” she said as she applied her eyeliner.

“I’m sorry to intrude, but I was wondering if I could change clothes right quick. It won’t take me more than five minutes.”

She waved her hand at me. “Knock yourself out, sweetie. You won’t bother me any.”

“Thank you so much,” I said gratefully, closing the door.

“Didn’t I see you last night?”

“Yeah, I was there when…”

“Diane went nuts?” she laughed. “It’s not the first time she’s done that. It certainly won’t be the last.”

“Glad I don’t have to work with her,” I said as I hung the garment bag on the back of the door and looked around.

Rachel watched me in the mirror. “Don’t be shy. When you’re an actress, you learn to change in front of anyone. I don’t embarrass easily.”

She might not, but I certainly did. However, I didn’t have much of a choice, and beggars can’t be choosers when they’re desperate. I quickly stripped off my jeans and T-shirt, unzipped the garment bag, and took out my outfit. It was a royal blue blouse, black pants, and black heels.

“That’s a beautiful color on you,” Rachel said. “Here, sit down in the chair for a minute, and I’ll fix your hair.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that,” I told her. “I know you’re trying to get ready…”

“It’s all right,” she said. “Do you have a brush or something in your bag?”

I dug out my hairbrush and handed it to her as I sat down. “I appreciate this.”

“I used to work at a beauty parlor before I started acting,” she replied, brushing my auburn hair. She shoved things around on top of the vanity, and picked up a couple of bobby pins. She pulled my hair back on the right side and shoved the pins in. Using her curling iron, she added some curls, then brushed them out until they looked like gentle waves.

“Wow,” I said when she was done.

“You look like Rita Hayworth,” she said, obviously satisfied with her handiwork.

“I could never do this by myself. The last time I used a curling iron, I dropped it and burned my shoulder.”

“Thank you for letting me do it,” Rachel said as I stood up. “Sometimes I wish I was still working at the beauty parlor.”

“Don’t you enjoy acting?” I said as I pulled out the black heels and a small jewelry bag from the overnight bag.

“Most of the time, I do,” she replied, sitting back down in front of the mirror. “Then there are times, like last night, when I just want to walk away and go home.”

I put on a pair of diamond earrings, followed by a gold chain with a heart that Mike had given me, and slipped my feet into the heels. “Where are you from?”

“A very tiny town in Illinois called Downs. Not much there, but it’s home,” she said wistfully.

“How long has it been since you’ve been home?” I asked her as I shoved my other clothes into the bag.

“Too long, although I saw my mother for two days a couple of weeks ago.”

“Maybe you’re just homesick,” I said, zipping up the garment bag.

“Maybe.”

I went over and placed my hand on her shoulder. “Rachel, why don’t you call your mother before the show starts? Or better yet, why don’t you go home for a visit after the show closes here? I’m sure your family would be thrilled to see you.”

She shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”

There was a knock on the door. “Rachel,” Richard said as he opened the door. He stopped when he saw me. “Oh, I’m sorry, I was looking for Rachel.”

“What is it, Richard?” Rachel said.

“There you are,” he said, coming all the way into the room. “I wanted to talk to you about the scene at the end of Act I for a minute.”

“I better go,” I said, picking up my things. “Thank you again, Rachel. Break a leg.”

“Thanks, and you’re welcome.”

I left them alone, and took the bags out to my car. When I went back inside, I heard my mother calling my name from the main room. I walked in to find her standing next to my father, and I stopped to look at them for a minute. Mother was wearing a black dress, her short silver hair neatly styled in soft curls. She was gazing up at my father, who was dressed in a pair of black pants, white shirt and purple tie, with a look of pure love. After forty years, I thought it was wonderful that they still acted like newlyweds, holding hands or stealing a kiss when they thought no one was looking. I secretly hoped that when I found my true love, our marriage was just like theirs.

Mother saw me watching them, and she actually blushed. I smiled at her as I wiped a stray tear away. “Did you need me for something?” I asked as I walked over to join them.

“I just wanted to make sure that Mike was still joining us tonight.”

“He told me he was this morning.”

“Good,” she nodded, “I have a place for him and Randy with us.”

“Who else is joining us?” I asked, noticing two other seats at our table.

“Walt and Mother.”

“Really? I thought Grandma didn’t like going to plays.”

“I think she’s coming for the food, not the show,” Dad said. “When there’s pie involved, there your grandmother will be also.”

“Are you talking about me again?” Grandma Alma said as she came in behind us. “How do you know I’m not here for the company?”

Dad started to reply, but Mother gently placed her hand on his arm and shook her head. “Of course you’re here to spend the evening with your family,” Mother said, giving her mother  a big hug.

“No, I’m not,” she snorted. “I’m here to see if there’s going to be a cat fight on the stage. I heard what happened at rehearsals last night.” She looked me up and down. “Don’t you look snazzy tonight? Just saw your boyfriend in the parking lot.”

I hurried toward the front door. Mike came in just as I reached for the door, and he stopped in his tracks when he saw me. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at me like he’d never seen me before. Finally, he moved toward me and took my hands in his. “You look…wow…you look so beautiful,” he said, brushing a loose hair off my cheek.

“Thank you,” I said, feeling extremely shy all of a sudden.

Randy almost ran us over as he came in. “Are you two planning to block the door all night?”

“Sorry,” Mike said as we moved to the side.

“You look nice,” Randy said, barely glancing at me. “Was that your grandmother I saw come in as we got here?”

“Yes, she and Walt are inside with my parents.”

For a minute, I thought about staying close to the front door, just to make sure that no one tried to slip past the two doormen standing on the steps outside. Namely, Susan Ingram. I just had a sneaking suspicion that she was going to weasel her way in here, and try to ruin things for Mother. Before I could make up my mind, Mike draped my arm through his, and escorted me toward our table, with Randy trailing behind us.

By six thirty, everyone was seated at their assigned tables, and chatting with each other amiably. Thankfully, there was no sign of Susan Ingram, although I did see her husband, Joey, sitting with a group of people at the table Mac, Lillian, and I had used the previous evening. He seemed to be having a very intense conversation with one gentleman in particular. The gentleman was dressed in a tweed jacket, white shirt and black tie, with a pipe sticking out of his mouth. I hoped he didn’t light it; the fire marshal would have a fit. It looked like he was chewing on the mouthpiece as Joey continued talking, gesturing with his hands, and even pounding on the table at one point, much to the chagrin of the other people around them.

I leaned closer to Mother. “Have you seen this hotshot director everyone’s talking about?” I asked her.

She turned slightly in her chair. “There he is, I think, over in the corner with Joey Ingram. That’s Joey’s son, Reed, sitting next to him.”

So that was Stephen Showalter. I wonder what they were arguing about so vehemently. A better question was how did Joey know a Broadway director?

The buffet style worked well. I noticed people chatting with each other as they went through the line. I forgot about Joey Ingram and Stephen Showalter. It was nice to sit down with my family and friends without any interruptions. Mike had assured me that all of the evening patrols were covered, and the dispatcher knew not to contact him unless someone died. He had his phone with him, but it was on silent, lying face down on the table.

I saw Richard go over and introduce himself to Stephen, who smiled and nodded at whatever Richard was saying to him. They talked for a few minutes before Richard rushed off to get ready for the opening act.

The waiters cleared away the dinner plates, and served coffee and other refreshments to their guests. As they hurried off, the lights flashed three times, then dimmed. Everyone turned their chairs and attention to the stage. I had to admit that I was extremely nervous about Rachel and Diane. But I was hoping that they would be professionals, and give the performance of their lives for their audience.

The first act went off without a hitch. The woman playing Madame Arcati was from the Dallas troupe, and she was fantastic. The three leads did a wonderful job, and there was no evidence of the tension that had been present during the dress rehearsal. Maybe it was true what they said: A bad dress rehearsal meant a great show.

The curtain dropped on Act I, and the house lights came up. People wandered over to the dessert tables, while the wait staff went from table to table refilling drinks. Several people came over to Mother, congratulating her on a job well done. Mother seemed a bit overwhelmed by all the attention, but I was happy for her, and I could tell Dad was, too.

The lights dimmed, and the curtain rose on the second act. When Diane (as the character Ruth) walked behind the couch, she suddenly stopped. She appeared to be looking at something on the floor. Just as she started screaming, I noticed a pair of feet wearing red heels sticking out.

Mike jumped from his seat and rushed onto the stage. I was right behind him. He grabbed Diane by the arms and gently pushed her toward me. She was shaking like a leaf, and I wrapped my left arm around her waist to steady her. While I did that, Mike knelt down on one knee beside the person on the floor. I couldn’t tell who it was at first, because he was blocking my view. He checked for a pulse, then turned to look at me and shook his head. That’s when I saw who it was.

Susan Ingram had managed to find a way to ruin Mother’s night after all, but not in the way she had probably planned.

Ding, dong, the witch is dead.