Christmas Spirit (The Middle-aged Ghost Whisperer Book 1): (Ghost Cozy Mystery series) (8 page)

Chapter 14

“Oh my goodness! Look who it is!” Constance hissed excitedly in my ear as she gestured toward the doorway. “Don’t stare, Prudence! Just glance that way. No, Prudence, now you look like a mugger. Subtlety is not your thing!”

“Constance, please just tell me who I’m looking at,” I said with as much patience as I could muster. I gazed over the crowd of strangers. Truth be told, I couldn’t tell one from another. I couldn’t even remember the names of any of the twenty or so people Constance had already pointed out.

Constance sighed with open envy. “The one wearing the Louis Vuitton dress! Sylvia Hawkins. She’s a famous businesswoman. Of course, I used to date her brother, who was even more famous. And right beside her is the mining magnate, Todd Ross. He’s been remarried three times, and always to a younger model. It was quite the scandal. I wonder if he’s eyeballing Sylvia for wife number four?”

I sighed and looked around the room as Constance pointed out one person after another. I was out of place in the glitz and glam at the Tamworth Christmas Ball. The tables were lined with shimmering table clothes, sporting fresh gold and silver flowers and elaborate candlelight centerpieces. The champagne-colored balloons and spiraling streamers that dangled lazily overhead shimmered with glitter that drifted down to settle on the guests’ hair and shoulders.

The scene was too elegant and over the top for me to feel comfortable. I preferred the orderly crowds of my shows, not a sea of strangers milling around. If Constance had not bought me a ticket, I would have been at home watching television with the others. Hmm. Constance or Luke? That was a hard call. Perhaps this party wasn’t so bad after all.

Constance jabbed me in the ribs. “Prudence! Did you hear me?” She gestured to a well dressed young man who was chatting enthusiastically with a pair of ladies. “That is Paul Harris, the famous actor. His face was on the billboard we passed driving here.”

I did my best to look interested, but this was not my scene at all. These people dripped with jewels and Rolexes and custom tailored clothing lines, most of which were probably imported. I, on the other hand, was wearing a three-year-old gown I had acquired from the Target store bargain bin. My jewelry was 24-karat-fake zircons and cut glass, and I had not worn these heels since my bachelorette party. I had neither the desire nor the pocketbook to keep up with high-end fashion.

“Go talk to him,” Constance commanded me, trying to shoo me toward the young man. “You’re exactly his type. If you land him, you’ll be set for life! You can even quit that silly job of yours.”

My mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

Constance looked at me, a picture of innocence. I didn’t know whether her expression was real or well practiced.

“Okay, for one,” I continued, “he’s got to be half my age. For another, I happen to like my business. What’s wrong with it?”

Constance smirked. “Oh nothing! That is, not if you’re into being a sideshow attraction. It takes up so much of your time that there’s no way you’ll ever get ahead in society.” She tilted her head. “But then again, it might work for you. Harris happens to like eccentric stuff like that, and older women. You’ll at least get his attention.”

“I’m not that desperate.” I forced down a wave of irritation and took a tiny sip of my champagne. I needed more than a tiny sip to handle Constance one-on-one like this, but I was trying not to over indulge, especially after the Christmas Eve incident where I had dumped my woes and frustrations on the handsome ghost who was haunting my place. The holidays always tampered with my better judgment.

“You
should
be that desperate,” Constance said patiently. “Beggars can’t be choosers at our age, Prudence. You should be happy that a hot young stud with the biggest payroll in our county might find you sexy!”

I made a face and shuddered. “No, Constance. No! You have no idea how gross that sounds right now. That is twenty shades of never-in-a-million-years.”

“You’re making it way more complicated than it really is,” Constance huffed.

“Then you go snag him!” I gazed around for an escape from this conversation. Constance was like a dog with a bone once she got ideas like this in her head. “Just please don’t tell me any details later.”

“You’re so impossible, Prudence.” Constance rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, walking off to mingle with ‘her people.’

I watched Constance walk away, and saw Alum materialize a few yards away. I was glad he hadn’t appeared directly in front of me, as that would have made me jump.

Concern was etched on his face. “Are you okay?”

I nodded slightly, hoping the gesture was not too obvious in the crowd. I carefully wriggled my way through the milling crowd to the relative quiet of a side hallway. I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly in a sigh of relief. “Nothing chocolate mint ice cream won’t cure later.”

Alum frowned. “Prudence, I know you have your reasons, but that woman is as toxic as it gets.”

“She means well.” I didn’t know who I was trying to convince, Alum or myself.

Alum looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he shrugged. “You look lovely tonight, by the way.”

“Thank you.” My face burned at the sudden compliment. “You look pretty good yourself.”

Alum grinned and he pretended to show off his ensemble. He looked the same as ever, still appearing in the street clothes that he had died in. “Latest in underworld fashion.”

I smiled. I could imagine him sauntering through the crowd in a perfectly fitting tuxedo. Had he been alive, he would have turned a few heads.

“I think I’ll stick with what I have. If it’s not broke, don’t fix it.” Alum shook his head. “Besides, I’ve done my time at these sorts of events. I always found them too stuffy.”

That’s right, his model ex-wife
, I thought. He must have been to tons of super-formal events when he was married. The idea of some super hot, impossibly skinny woman draped possessively over his well-dressed arm dampened my curiosity. “That makes two of us. Oh, the stuffy bit I mean. I for one haven’t done my time at these events.”

“Why don’t we sneak out?”

It was a tempting offer. Still, it would be awkward to go somewhere with Alum when I wouldn’t be able to speak if other people were present. I could hardly go to a café with him and talk to myself. That would be how it would look to others. And then there was the fact that Constance had given me the ticket as a Christmas gift. Still, if I left, Constance would likely not notice. I could see her darting from group to group like a hyperactive bee. She was definitely where she wanted to be.

I smiled an apology. “I really shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what?” a strange voice said from the doorway.

I turned around to see the actor that Constance had pointed out. Pete? Pablo? Rumpelstiltskin? His name evaded me. He looked so young, his name might as well have been Peter Pan, although the cocky, leering grin he gave me tempted me to give him a few choice grown-up words.

“Your friend did not do you justice. You look absolutely ravishing tonight, if I might be so bold.” He made his way into the hallway and looked around, a brow raised. Not another soul was anywhere in sight. “You’re the ghost whisperer, aren’t you?”

“I’m a medium,” I corrected him, wishing those silly movies hadn’t given people strange notions about my work. There were no candles, séances, possessions, or other Hollywood myths involved, and definitely no spinning heads. I had never coaxed any wild-eyed children from the ceiling. For some reason, I thought of Luke.

He gave me what he no doubt thought was his best Prince Charming smile. “I’ve always had a fascination with the occult. Why don’t you come to my place after the party? We could have a little séance.”

I did my best to keep my expression politely neutral. By his tone and shifty attempt at bedroom eyes, I could tell that he was looking for more than a connection with the dead. I was sorely tempted to ask him if his mother knew he was out past his curfew.

“No, thank you,” I said coldly. “I already have plans for tonight.” I hoped my tone was firm but not downright rude. I was aware of Alum’s presence close beside me. I didn’t need to be a clairvoyant medium to pick up on the anger emanating from him. “I need to go and speak to my friend now.”
And give her a few choice words
, I added silently. I had distinctly told Constance that I wanted nothing to do with Junior, but she had apparently pointed him in my direction regardless. I was keen to know what Constance had said to him to make him seek me out.

I pushed past the man to head back out of the corridor. I had made plans all right, and they were to ditch Constance, leave the party, and go somewhere with Alum. I’d rather spend time with Alum, even if people did think I was talking to myself.

I had only taken one step when the man suddenly reached out and forced me against the wall. “Come on, there’s no need to act shy about it. Why don’t we have our own party?”

“Hey!” Alum yelled. He lunged for the man’s shoulder. Only after his hand slipped through did he seem to remember that his protests were ineffectual.

The man leaned in, the smell of bourbon strong on his breath as it brushed against my face. He looked smug in his venture, not a trace of embarrassment or remorse to be seen. I brought up a hand to push him away, but he at once moved to pin it with a huge, forceful hand.

I had no choice. I kneed him as hard as I could. His grip slackened; his eyes bulged in shock, and he gaped like a fish, as all color drained from his face. He slumped down on the floor, and groaned as his hands fluttered and gripped his—no, that was not his chest he was gripping.

My sore knee throbbed in protest as I stumbled away from the man huddled and groaning on the carpet. I wasted no time getting back to the safety of the crowd.

“Where’s that Harris guy?” Constance asked within seconds of my escape. She was grinning like a cat that caught a canary. “Did he run into you?”

“Yes!” I said angrily. “Into my knee, to be exact!”

Constance gasped. “What happened?”

“He tried to kiss me against my will,” I snapped. “What on earth did you say to him?”

Constance looked horrified, but not, it seemed, at my distress. “Prudence! You need to go and apologize!”

“Are you crazy?” I said loudly enough to turn a few heads. Did I just hear Constance right?

Constance wagged her finger in my face. “You haven’t dated since the Dark Ages. I get it. Men are more forward these days. They all act that way. It’s just a normal part of dating in modern society.”

“Um hello! Man here,” Alum said irritably. He raised his hand for emphasis despite the fact Constance could not see him. “I can testify that we do
not
all act like that!”

“What nonsense, Constance!” I was furious with her.

“Okay, okay, just calm down. You’ll embarrass us both if you make a scene.”

“Seriously?” I snapped at her. “I’ve just been manhandled by someone half my age and you’re worried about what people think about me? I’m leaving.” I needed to get out.

Constance made no move to stop me as she turned to talk to someone else. No doubt they were famous. “Well, this was fun,” I said to Alum, as I made my way through the crowd.

Alum looked troubled. “I’m sorry you went through that.”

“Thanks,” I said, “but it’s not your fault.”

He nodded. “I know it’s none of my business, but you really need some new friends.”

“Not many people are willing to deal with a woman who speaks for the dead,” I said with a sigh of resignation. “I’ll put it on my list of New Year’s resolutions.”

He lifted a brow. “No one follows through on those things.”

“You never know. Maybe I’ll be an anomaly. I have one friend I can start the New Year off with, at least.” I turned to him, past caring if anyone thought I was talking to myself.

He smiled slightly, but the smile promptly disappeared as he stared ahead of him. I didn’t know it was possible for a ghost to look paler than he already was. I followed his gaze to a table where a group of sharply dressed men were mingling.

“That one. Right there.” Alum pointed out the young man at the head of the table. He had a neatly trimmed mustache, and his hair had too much gel. “That’s Jason Taylor, Martin Taylor’s son. Now, look at the next table to the left. That’s my partner.”

I stared at the man who had killed Alum. I could not hide my shock. My blood ran cold.

He noticed me staring and fixed his gaze on me, but right then, the door burst open and police swarmed in like ants. They shouted for nobody to move. I was in too much shock at seeing Alum’s murderer to make any sense of the sudden intrusion.

Chapter 15

I watched in disbelief as the police headed for the table of Jason Taylor and his friends. I thought they might be there to arrest Jason Taylor, but they seized a man at his table. His eyes widened as two cops stopped in front of him, and more approached.

“Me?” he choked out. He turned to the men he had been speaking with, as if to say, ‘What about them?”

The crowd was buzzing with whispers as everyone watched. I regained my senses and tried to edge closer, forcing myself into small gaps, and no doubt annoying people as I bumped my way past them. I found myself within ten or so feet of the man the police appeared to be arresting before I could go no further.

“Glenn Curtis?” a cop asked.

“You know who I am,” the man said defiantly. Where at first his eyes had been wide with shock, now they were angry, narrow slits in his face. “I’ve done nothing!” he insisted loudly.

The crowd’s murmurings grew louder, but I managed to hear the police tell Glenn Curtis that he was under arrest.

“Hey, what’s the meaning of this?” another man at the table yelled. He was older and bigger than Glenn, broad in the shoulder and chest. His hands were big and beefy, and as he spoke he clenched them and unclenched them. “This is a party.”

“Let us do our job,” another police officer said, putting his hand on the beefy man’s chest and pushing him back a step.

Glenn turned back to the table. “Not one of you will say anything?”

“I told you!” a shrill voice rang out, and for a moment I was confused as to who was speaking. Then I saw a woman standing nearby. She rushed toward Glenn, but was restrained by one of the police officers. “I told you they were bad news!” she yelled.

“Sarah,” Glenn said. “Be quiet.”

“You’ve set him up!” the woman screamed, turning to look at the men at the table. “I told him not to trust you. You’re all schemers! You set him up!”

“Sarah!” a voice boomed, and every head turned to look at Glenn, who was now being handcuffed, because the thundering voice belonged to him. “Enough!”

“But, but….” Sarah stammered.

Glenn shook his head. “But nothing,” he said. “Stop talking.”

Sarah looked at the floor.

“We can go over it all down at the station,” one officer said. “Let these people get back to their party.” He took Glenn by the arm and led him through the crowd, which parted like an ocean around a slow moving boat.

I looked back at the table to see the men whispering to each other. I noted that Stanfield Kelly was speaking with a small group of police officers. I then turned my attention to Sarah. I had expected her to sprint out the door after her husband, but she seemed frozen in place. Large sobs racked her body. She looked like a lost woman, unsure of what to do next.

Three women approached her. All were elegantly dressed, dripping with jewels, and beautifully tanned. I figured they were the wives of some of the men at Jason Taylor’s table. I hurried forward, working my way through the crowd, which was slowly starting to disperse. When I reached Sarah, she didn’t look at me, but the other three women did.

I ignored them and crouched as well as I could in my dress next to Sarah’s chair. “I’m Prudence,” I said. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry that you had to go through that.” I had no idea what to say next, but I wanted to say something, because I wanted to make a connection to those men. If they had killed Brady Wayland, then Sarah might provide a clue in some way. It was worth a try.

At that moment, I got a lucky break. One of the women snapped her fingers. “That’s where I know you from!” she said. “My sister and I went to one of your shows! You’re Prudence Wallflower!”

Sarah looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “Shows?”

“Sure, Prudence here can speak to the dead. My sister never believed in stuff like that, but she did after that night.”

Sarah scoffed. “I don’t need to talk to any dead people. I need my husband.”

“Prudence Wallflower?” a man interjected. “I’m Randal Hamilton, from the Newcastle Broadcaster.” I must have looked blank, as he continued. “You know, the newspaper?”

I didn’t know, but I nodded anyway.

“I’d love to interview you. I’m in town for a few days. Any possibility that could happen in the next day or two? Look, I know it’s bad time of year and everything, but can you give me your contact details?”

I pulled out one of my business cards from my small clutch and handed it to him. “I suppose so,” I said.

He looked it over, thanked me, and left.

I held out another business card to Sarah. Slowly, reluctantly, she reached out and took it. It was a long shot, but the suspects in the murder of Brady Wayland were the men she believed had turned on her husband. After she took my card, I stood up, and looked straight into a pair of eyes. Stanfield Kelly.

His face was set and neutral, hard to read. There was no doubt about it through—he was staring right at me. At that moment, Constance moved between us.

“Isn’t this the absolute best party?” Her voice was breathless. “This is just too fantastic. Everyone’s going to be talking about this party, and to think that we were actually here! Did you see them taking that man out in handcuffs? It’s like something out of a movie.”

I moved away from Sarah. I was sure she had already overheard Constance’s glee over her husband being arrested. “I’m going home,” I said flatly. “Goodnight.”

“What?” Constance asked, “Are you tired? How can you be tired? I don’t think I could sit still. I’m not sure if that’s because of the excitement, or the eight glasses of white wine I’ve had. It could be the wine. I need to find the restroom.”

I was too angry with Constance to trust myself to speak, so I hurried away to call a cab.

It was only then that I noticed that Alum had vanished.