Who Killed the Ghost in the Library: A Ghost writer Mystery (9 page)

Chapter 16

“What did you say to her?” Randy asked as we drove away.

“I asked her if she killed her husband.”

Jo gasped from the back seat. “You didn’t!” I nodded. “What did she say?”

“Nothing. But she got this crazy lady look on her face before she slammed the door.”

Randy whistled. “Sounds like a guilty conscience to me.”

“We can’t prove anything, and Mike isn’t going to listen to our gut instincts.”

“Maybe he really did leave on his own,” Jo suggested. “I imagine it was kind of creepy for Ray to be living in a dead man’s guest house while his wife spent all of her time with his ghost.”

Randy and Jo continued to speculate while I stared out the window into the darkness. None of this made sense, although I was sure this had something to do with Cliff Scott’s death. Could Aggie have hired someone to kill him to keep whatever secret she has? “What if Ray’s disappearance has something to do with Stanley’s death?” I said as Randy parked in my driveway.

Randy looked over at me. “You think Ray killed him?”

I shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”

“Then why did he wait fourteen years to disappear?” Jo said as we got out of the car.

“A better question is how can Aggie afford to keep the power on at the house, heck, how is she paying for anything?”

“How much was in his bank account when it was closed in 1969?” Randy asked.

“It couldn’t have been much, if he hadn’t had a steady job since Aggie started working for the Ashtons.” I shook my head as I unlocked the front door. “We’re coming up with more questions than answers,” I replied, opening the door and flipping on the living room light.

Jo gasped as the light revealed a huge mess. It looked like a tornado had ripped through the house. Papers were scattered everywhere in the living room.

“Holy cow,” Randy said. “Go back outside and call
Penhall. I’ll look around to make sure no one’s here.”

I couldn’t make myself move, so Jo grabbed my arm and dragged me outside. She made the call to Mike while I leaned against Randy’
s car, trying to stop shaking. “Are you alright?” she asked as she leaned on the car next to me.

“I’ve certainly had better days.”

“Penhall is on his way,” she said as Randy came out of the house.

“Not sure how they got in,” Randy said. “All the doors and windows are intact
. Maybe the lock was picked. And the mess is confined to the living room.”

I felt it was best to leave this to the professionals, mainly because I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture about interfering in police business. I was pretty sure I was going to get the lecture anyway. I didn’t know how I was going to go back in there. Someone had invaded my personal space. It was going to be a while before I felt comfortable in my own home.

Mike pulled up ten minutes later. After making sure we were all okay, he took out his gun, a Colt 1911 .45 and entered the house. He came out a few minutes later, his gun back in his holster. “Randy’s right. There’s nothing to indicate how they got in. Are you sure you locked the door when you left?”

“Positive.”

“Anyone besides you have a key?”

“My parents and Randy, who was with me this evening.”

“And where were you?”

Glancing at Randy, I said, “Making a social call.”

“On who?”

“Agatha Foley.”

Mike sighed. “I thought I told you to stay out of police business.”

“Aggie asked me for help, which has absolutely nothing do with your case,” I replied, pushing myself off the car to stand in front of him.

“Bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“I can’t help it if you think stupid things.”

“Did you just call me stupid?”

“If the badge fits, wear it.”

“Now you’re calling me a dumb cop?!”

Randy and Jo quickly stepped between us. “Are you going to take any fingerprints or anything?” Randy asked as he steered Mike toward his patrol car.

“I can try, but the only things that seemed to be disturbed are a bunch of papers in the living room.”

I knew what he was talking about: all the files on the Ashton family. We hadn’t even looked at them much, and it would probably take a couple of days to get everything in order. “Forget it,” I said, walking toward the house. “If there’s anything missing, I’ll let you know.”

“Randy, I have an early morning appointment,” Jo said. “Could you take me home?”

He looked at Mike, then me. I nodded. “Play nice,
Penhall,” Randy said. Mike just glared at him. Randy came over and gave me a hug. “You need anything, call me.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I was trying to reassure him or me.

Jo waved as they drove off. “I didn’t know you knew the town nut case,” Mike said as he pulled a black case from the trunk of his car.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Jo,” he replied, slamming the trunk lid down. “She thinks she sees ghosts everywhere she goes. On the plus side, she’s a computer genius. She reminds me of that blonde from “Criminal Minds”. There’s nothing she can’t find.” I would have to ask her to help me find Amelia and the kids.

Mike wouldn’t let me in the house while he checked for fingerprints, so I stood on the front porch and watched him work. Looking around the room, I noticed the papers looked like they had been swept up by a whirlwind…suddenly, I knew what had happened. To say I was furious would be a mild understatement. “Find anything yet?”

“A few fingerprints, but I’ll have to eliminate the people who normally come here so I can focus on the right person.”

“Of course. Makes sense.” Although I knew he wouldn’t find any.

“I’ll need to get your prints for elimination, as well as Randy, your parents, and Jo. Anyone else?”

“Yours. You were here this evening.
You didn’t come back here looking for anything, did you?”

“Is there something else I should be looking for?”

“All these papers are for research. Nothing of value in them to anyone but me.”

“Obviously someone doesn’t agree,” Mike said as he pulled a camera out of his case. He took several pictures. “Are you sure all this is about the Ashtons?”

“I told you, I’m writing a book. It’s just background information. There’s absolutely nothing of value here. All anyone would have to do is go to the library and find the same stuff I did. It’s where I got it.”

He put the camera back in the case and closed it. “Would you mind walking through the house to see if anything is missing?”

I agreed, and we walked around the house. Nothing appeared out of place, which I had expected. I needed to get Mike out of the house so I could have a chat with the one responsible. “Everything is right where it should be.”

Mike shook his head as he picked up the case. “Make sure you lock the door behind me. If you have any problems during the night, call me.”

“I don’t want to bother you. I’ll be fine.”

“Call me. Promise me.”

“Fine, I’ll call, but I’m sure I won’t have to.”

Nodding, he opened the door and walked out. He waited while I closed and locked the door. I heard him step off the porch
, followed by a car door slamming. His car started and he drove off. I turned around and faced the room. “I know you’re here, Stanley. I thought we had a deal.”

A piece of paper on the floor floated up in the air and drifted down again. “Very cute. Are you going to help me clean up this mess?” The answer was several pieces of paper going airborne at once. “You asked me to help you, and that’s what I’m trying to do. I’m not going to stop just because you and Aggie don’t like my questions.”

No response. Had he left? I had no way of knowing, which was creepy in so many ways. “Just one thing, Stanley. Did it ever occur to you that the reason Ray left was because he had something to do with your death? Or maybe he disappeared because Aggie killed him?”

Papers started flying everywhere, swirling around like a tornado. Seems Stanley was throwing a fit. After a couple of minutes it stopped, and the papers fell to the floor. “Maybe we should talk about this
face-to-face tomorrow. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve had an extremely long, hard day, and I would like to get some rest. If you are the 1950s gentleman I believe you are, then you’ll leave. If not, get out anyway.

The curtains in the living room fluttered, and for a moment, I thought I saw an outline of a person in the fabric before it disappeared.

Sighing, I looked at the mess briefly before deciding to leave it until morning. I changed into my favorite purple t-shirt and crawled into bed. As I fell asleep, one last thought crossed my mind.

What if Aggie killed Stanley?

Chapter 17 - Thursday

Randy showed up at my house at ten the next morning with blueberry and strawberry muffins. I was sitting in the middle of the living room floor, sorting through the papers. “Your mother got worried when you didn’t show up for breakfast,” he said, placing the muffins on the coffee table.

“Artie still has my car,” I reminded him. “Besides, I need to clean up this mess Stanley made.”

“Stanley?” he said. “You’re kidding!”

“No, I’m not,” I replied, pulling my red hair into a ponytail. “I figured it out before Mike left last night.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Are you crazy? He already thinks Jo is a nutcase for talking about ghosts all over town.”

“So what are you going to do?” Randy said, grabbing a blueberry muffin and plopping down on the couch.

“I’m going to go back out there and have a chat with Mr. Troublemaker. For someone who acts so dignified, he’s acting like a bit of a spoiled brat.”

He pointed at the pile of papers I had sorted. “Have you had a chance to read any of those yet?”

I shook my head. “Not really. I thought it would be better to get it all straightened out first, otherwise I would spend more time reading. I need to look at it in the correct order to make sense of it all.”

“Are you sure it wouldn’t be easier to print everything again and use this mess for scrap paper?” he said as the sound of car tires crunched across the gravel driveway.

“Seems like a waste of paper,” I said, standing up and walking to the front window. “It’s Artie. He brought my car.”

I went outside and met Artie Shatton by the car. “Good morning,
Ms. Shaw. I thought I would drop it off for you,” he said, handing me the keys.

I appreciate this very much, Mr. Shatton,” I replied. “How much do I owe you?”

“Just Artie, please,” he said. He took his brown baseball cap off and wiped his forehead with a blue hankerchief. “And the bill’s already paid.”

“By who?”

“I was asked to keep that information a secret,” Artie said with a sly smile.

My curiosity was definitely piqued, but I didn’t press the issue. “Do you need a ride back to your garage?”

“No ma’am, although I appreciate the offer. One of my men should be here shortly,” he replied, pushing his handkerchief into the back pocket of his grease covered overalls.

“Artie, may I ask how old you are?”

“I’m sixty-three, ma’am. Why?”

“I was just wondering if you knew the Ashton family.”

He shook his head. “I’ve only lived here thirty years,” he said as a truck from his garage pulled up. “Why?”

“No reason,” I replied, shaking his hand. “Thanks again for dropping off my car.”

“You’re very welcome. You’ve got a great car there. There is some minor body damage, I imagine from flying debris. I can match the paint and fix that for you, no problem. But overall, it’s in wonderful condition for such an old car.”

I ran my hand lovingly over the left front fender as Artie got in the passenger side of the truck and left. Tossing my keys in the air and catching them, I went back inside. Randy had taken
my place on the floor and was sifting through the papers. “Find anything interesting yet?”

“Family trees, history, complaints, birth and death certificates, things like that.”

“Wait a minute, where are those certificates?”

Randy thumbed through a stack of papers to his left.
“Right here,” he said, handing them to me.

Looking through the papers, I noticed birth certificates dating back to the 1800s, and the most recent birth certificates were for Stanley
IV and his sister Cecilia.

“There are bills of sale for parcels of land around the Ashton place,” Randy said, “plus letters from the Ashton lawyer to their neighbors, trying to negotiate the sales. And many nasty letters addressed to Ashton, giving him explicit directions and locations on where he could place his offers.”

“Really?” I replied, sitting down on the floor. “Any of them particularly threatening?”

“No, I’d say they’re all equally murderous.”

“I wonder if any of these people are still alive,” I said, shuffling through them. “The best thing to do is to take them to my grandmother.” I grabbed a pen off the coffee table, rammed it into the splint and scratched. “I hate this stupid thing.”

“You’ve only had it for one day,” Randy said, taking the pen away from me. “Let’s go through the rest of this mess to see if there are any other letters before we go see her.”

For the next thirty minutes, we went through as much as we could, setting aside the letters and certificates in one pile. We were so focused on what we were doing that we didn’t hear a car pull up. It was the pounding on the door that got our attention. Randy got up and answered the door. “Oh look, it’s Chief Surly Pants.”

I looked up at Mike came in. “Have you been cleaning this up all night?” he asked, ignoring Randy.

“No, just this morning.”

He leaned over and plucked a blueberry muffin from the plate on the coffee table before I could stop him. “Were you home all night?”

“Of course I was. Where else would I go? I didn’t have a car.”

“Then what’s that sitting in your driveway, a paperweight?”

“Artie just dropped it off this morning.”

“Can anyone verify that?”

“You mean besides Artie, Randy, and the guy that picked Artie up? Is that good enough for you?”

“Why are you asking all these questions?” Randy said.

“There’s a small problem at the Ashton place.”

“What kind of problem?” I said.

Mike took a bite of the muffin, chewed and swallowed before answering. “I went out to talk to Agatha Foley this morning.”

“And?”

“She’s missing.”