Read southern ghost hunters 01 - southern spirits Online
Authors: angie fox
Tags: #cozy mystery romance
My sister's eyes widened. "Verity, I—"
"Ellis abandoned the property after that. He was upset. It was a place he and his uncle planned to renovate together. When he went back to it, Steward realized he had to get the body off the property."
"Yes, but can you
prove
it?" Sheila Ward called out.
"Ellis can," I told her. He did, too. They found my bag in Steward's car, along with our keys, and the Taser he'd used on us. And Ellis's gun.
And that was the scandal that gave Sugarland something else to talk about.
***
Turns out the mayor wasn't as crippled as he'd claimed. He played up that old war injury for votes. And when he lost his property, he played hurt all the more.
No one would suspect a frail man could dig up a body, start a house fire, or hunt down an officer of the law. No one would suspect he struggled down a hill in order to shove me to my death.
The colonel had tried to warn me, just like he'd tried to warn Joy on the night of her death. Only he couldn't manifest so well outside the carriage house, and he couldn't stop Steward in any sort of physical way. So I'd fallen, and Joy had died all those years ago.
Poor Harry had been passed out in the alley just as Steward said, a sacrificial lamb ready to take the blame for the mayor's sins.
And they were many.
Judge Parsons didn't even grant him bail—said with all his money, he was a flight risk. I'd heard he was playing injured again in jail, trying for leniency. He could rot there for all I cared.
That night, I curled up on my futon with Lucy in my lap. The house smelled of the meatloaf Melody had brought over. She'd gotten takeout from the diner, and it was spectacular.
"You sure look happy," a voice echoed in my ear.
I jumped, startling Lucy. "Frankie!" I didn't even mind this time when he snuck up on me. "Where have you been?"
"On a ride with a killer," he said, as he settled in next to me, a mere flicker of his usual self.
"Are you all right?" He didn't look so good.
"My legs will grow back, along with the rest of me," he mused. "I'm getting too old for this sort of thing."
"You're not even a hundred," I protested. "Well, maybe not a hundred and fifty."
"It's not the years, it's you," he said, tactful as ever. "You get my urn back?"
"No." It had been in Steward's car. Ellis hadn't been able to retrieve it before they locked down the scene. "The sergeant said he'd have it back to me soon."
"He'd better, or else I'm gonna haunt the fuzz."
I supposed he could. It was the only place for Frankie to lurk unless he wanted to hang out at my place.
"The good news is we saved the house."
Ellis had somehow found the time to deposit twenty thousand dollars into my account. As if the man hadn't already been shot at, buried alive, and jumped on by yours truly.
"We're safe for now," I told him.
"When we get my urn back, we gotta work on getting me ungrounded."
"Right," I told him, fighting the urge to chew at my lip.
Like Scarlett O'Hara, we'd worry about the rest tomorrow.
***
When things had settled down a bit and Frankie's urn was back on my mantelpiece, Ellis called me up and invited me back to the carriage house to check on everyone. He wanted to see what more we could do to alleviate their stress about the renovation.
"Is Joy here?" he asked, as he closed the big doors behind me.
"She's not," the colonel said, from his favorite alcove. I went to join him as he fed a carrot to Annabelle the horse. Only this time, an elegant woman in an old-fashioned dress stood beside him. He smiled, drawing an arm around her. "Verity, please allow me to introduce you to my wife, Mary."
Her eyes sparkled as she gazed up at him. Then she inclined her head toward me. "Thank you."
She appeared happy, and at peace. "It's so good to see you," I told her.
The colonel took her hand, weaving his fingers with hers. "Mary was here all along," he said, "but it seems she was too terrified to show herself. You must understand, Joy was a good person, but she could be quite frightening."
I'd experienced that myself. "She went to the light?"
The colonel chuckled. "After she ran out of rocks."
If putting dents in the mayor's car helped her feel better, then I was glad. "She saved us," I said. "I just wish I could have thanked her."
"She knows," the colonel assured me, his eyes sparkling. "She said to thank you as well. She wishes us all the best."
Then she was well and truly free.
Authorities had been by the day after Steward's arrest to remove the body. They'd positively identified it as Joy Sullivan. And they'd formally charged Thad Steward with her murder. It seemed he'd left DNA evidence behind.
I startled a bit as a trumpet blew in the kitchen. A few thump-thumps of a drum followed, and before I knew it, a jazz band had started up.
"Frankie?" I asked, nudging the urn in my bag. He had to see this.
My gangster friend's head popped out from the middle of one of the kitchen doors. "What?"
"Never mind," I said. He'd already made it to the party.
A bald headed guy that I assumed was Frankie's brother stuck his head out as well. He caught my eye, winked, then grabbed Frankie in a playful headlock and dragged him back to the party.
"Gird your loins," I said to no one in particular. "The South Town gang is at it again."
The colonel wound an arm around his wife's shoulders. "They like to stick to the dance hall."
"And here I thought that was the kitchen," I said dryly.
"What you see must be very new," Mary reminded me.
Right.
"So no more damage?" Ellis asked, joining me.
The colonel gave a wry smile. "Perhaps a trick or two every once in a while, to remind you we're here."
"We should do something special for you and Annabelle," I said, nudging Ellis. "We know you were here first. Ellis could spare the table. We could display a picture of the Rough Rider with his war horse, maybe add a plate of carrots every now and again or encourage patrons to leave apples behind.
"We'd like that very much," the colonel said, nodding farewell as Ellis very gallantly slipped my arm into his and led me away.
"I'm going to tell my brother how you helped," he said, drawing me close, "that I know what you're really like."
"Please don't." I leaned into him. "Your good opinion is enough."
What we had was fragile, special. I didn't want to let others force their views on it.
Truth be told, I'd really like to kiss him again.
He stopped and I turned to face him.
"How's your sister?" he asked.
I had to smile at that. "Good. She's just hoping we don't go on a jewel hunt."
He grinned. "Maybe we'll find them. Harry and I still have a lot to do around here."
I felt bad at the mention of Harry. "I'm sorry I suspected him."
Ellis grew serious. "I'm not. You say what you think. It's refreshing. And you know, we never did get around to our dinner."
"I fell off a cliff instead," I told him. "I promise, I didn't do it so I could avoid you."
"No," he grinned. "You followed me home." He took my hands in his. His grip felt warm, safe. "You want to try again?"
The promise of a fresh scandal brewed. Of course, I jumped in with both feet. "I'd like that."
He relaxed, as if he'd been worried I'd say 'no.' I probably should have. "I'll pick you up tonight at six."
"Good. That'll give me plenty of time with Lucy." I'd been neglecting that skunk lately.
Ellis smiled. "Just leave her at home this time. I'm not sure I can find a skunk-friendly restaurant in this town."
"Okay, but you'll owe her one," I teased.
"I'll see if I can find some skunk treats," Ellis promised. Little did he know, Lucy would hold him to it.
I couldn't help but smile. I had my health, my house, and a date with a most unusual man.
I couldn't ask for anything more.
-THE END-
Okay, warm fuzzy time. I have to say how much I appreciate you reading my book. It's a dream come true to write for a living and Southern Spirits was a pure joy to write. I'm excited to report that I'll be continuing the series for at least five more books. If you'd like an email on the day the next book releases, click the link to
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Angie
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About the Author
New York Times
bestselling author Angie Fox writes sweet, fun, action-packed mysteries. Her characters are clever and fearless, but in real life, Angie is afraid of basements, bees, going up stairs when it's all dark behind her, and (her friends have way too much fun with this one) puppets.
Angie earned a Journalism degree from the University of Missouri. During that time, she also skipped class for an entire week so she could read Anne Rice's vampire series straight through. Angie has always loved books and is shocked, honored and tickled pink that she now gets to write books for a living. Although, she did skip writing for a week this past fall so she could read Victoria Laurie's Abby Cooper psychic eye mysteries straight through.
Angie makes her home in St. Louis, Missouri with a football-addicted husband, two kids, and Moxie the dog.
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