Ghost Hunter (The Middle-aged Ghost Whisperer Book 2): (Ghost Cozy Mystery series) (6 page)

Chapter 11

Once again, I was heading back down to Tamworth. I know a one hour commute is nothing to city people, but I was a country girl, and it was a long way for me. I was going to go to Oxley Grove Police Station, to see if I could catch Constable Summers leaving. If he left, then I was going to follow and see if he would lead me to the safe house. I had spent several hours the previous night memorizing every detail of his face—still, most police officers look the same from a distance when in uniform. It was yet another long shot, but this was the way my life was going at the moment.

I had no idea where Oxley Grove Police Station was, and I wasn’t able to select it on my GPS.

I had left early, before breakfast, so decided to stop at a café and get some sandwiches and two large lattes. I planned to pour one of the lattes into my thermos.

If there’s one thing that stake outs had taught me, it was to take a lot of food.

I thought I caught a glimpse of a white car following me. I had thought I had seen that car following me before, but had put it down to my imagination. After all, white cars are everywhere, so I thought I was mistaken. It wasn’t as if I thought I saw a bright green Audi or a silver BMW following me. This one looked like any common white car, and although I’m not psychic as such, I do have a good measure of women’s intuition.

When I reached the double lanes just before the Moonbi mountain descent, I slowed down and looked in my rear view mirror, only to see that the white car also appeared to slow down. No one in this district ever really kept to the speed limit, and I was well under. It was suspicious by itself that the car didn’t speed up and try to pass me, as most cars did before going down the mountain. It was easy to burn out one’s brakes going down one of the mountains in the area, and as a result, no one wanted to get stuck behind a slow moving car, given that it was next to impossible to pass.

I stopped for gas at Moonbi, and kept my eye on the white car when I pulled off the road. It went past at a greater speed, and I made a mental note to watch for it parked on the side of the road when I continued on to Tamworth.

I went to the restroom at the gas station—stake outs had taught me to take every possible opportunity to use any available restroom—and I resisted the urge to buy coffee.

I got in my car and drove away and, sure enough, I was sure I saw the white car parked down a side lane at Kootingal. I was past it before I noticed it, and if it hadn’t been for the truck that was far too close behind me, I would have considered going back to investigate. As it was, I decided to push on to Tamworth and keep an eye out for the offending vehicle. After all, it could be quite innocent. White cars are a dime a dozen.

I turned on the air conditioning. It was always hotter once down the mountain. I drove along to Tamworth, dreading the dreary, boring day I expected to have. Still, the thought of food cheered me up immeasurably. I wanted to get good food, which is why I had resisted the pre-packed sandwiches at the gas station.

Barbara had told me that there was a very good coffee shop with excellent coffee and wonderful sandwiches, as well as delicious cakes, at a certain location in Tamworth. She didn’t know the address, but had given me directions, poor directions as it turned out. I had googled the place before I’d left home, but it must’ve had a recent name change. Either that, or the owners had no idea how to promote their café on the Internet.

I drove around and around the crowded Tamworth streets for ages. Finally, I spotted the coffee shop, but there was no parking outside. At least I knew where it was, and so I planned to park at the next available parking place.

After three more circuits of the block, I decided to park much further away. I wasn’t getting my usual exercise with all the stake outs I’d been doing, so I thought a long walk wouldn’t do me any harm, even though the heat was intense at this time of day.

I walked the long walk to the coffee shop, fervently hoping that Barbara had not led me astray. I’d hate to go to all this trouble only to get mediocre coffee. Nevertheless, I was fairly confident. Barbara and I did have one thing in common, and that was a liking for really good coffee.

The café was housed in an old brick building, and when I went inside, the first thing I noticed was that they had packet after packet of T2 tea. I was delighted. These teas were not available locally, and I had to order them online. There is nothing quite like T2 tea.

The music, however, was quite loud, and was from the sixties. There were people looking in the gift section, but I headed straight for the place where the delightful and compelling scent of coffee was taking me.

I ordered two large lattes, an avocado and spinach wrap, and some sort of a slice that appeared to be covered with chocolate, and full of sugar. Just the thing one needed on a stake out, I figured. As a nod to being healthy, I also bought a bottle of water. I had filled bottles of water at home, but had left them on the car roof. Who knows where they were now? That’s one of the drawbacks of doing things first thing in the morning before coffee.

I put the bottle of water and the wrap in my purse, and stuck my keys into my jeans pocket. I was halfway back to my car when I was tempted to have a drink of the water. I couldn’t believe the heat.

I heard footsteps running behind me and instinctively moved over to the right side of the pavement to let whoever it was pass. Next thing I knew, someone had barreled into me, spilling some of my coffee. I whirled around, to see a man wearing a ski mask grabbing for my purse.

Firstly, my instinct was to save my coffee. I was holding a takeout cup of coffee in each hand and he was dragging my purse from my shoulder. Secondly, I realized that I had spilled some of one coffee anyway, so I threw the remains in the man’s face. He screamed and pushed me hard, and I fell into the gutter.

He disappeared down the street at a fast pace. People rushed to help me. I was sitting in the gutter. The first thing I thought was that I had saved one coffee, and my second thought was that there was a burning hot pain stabbing right through my left ankle.

A young man leaned over me. “Did he steal anything?”

I looked up to see an elderly lady picking my belongings off the road. I felt in my jeans pocket. My keys were still there. “No, I don’t think so,” I said. “My wallet is there, and my keys were in my pocket. I think throwing my coffee in his face scared him away.” After I spoke, I took a long gulp of my remaining coffee.

“Are you hurt?” the young man said, looking at my ankle which was already swelling.

“Yes,” I said. “My ankle really hurts. I think I’ve twisted it.”

“It could be broken,” another person said. “I already called the police.”

Police
. I beamed. It would be wonderful if the police wanted me to make a statement at the Oxley Grove Police Station. I hoped like crazy that it was the nearest police station.

I gingerly stood up. I could weight bear, which made me think my ankle wasn’t broken—not that I really knew anything about these things—but it hurt like crazy.

“Do you think it’s broken?” the young man asked me.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I twisted it, so it’s probably sprained or just swollen or something. I don’t know,” I said again, fighting the urge to burst into tears. The shock of the incident was starting to affect me. I took another sip of coffee.

There was a bus stop seat behind me, and the young man helped me to it. The passers by collected all of my belongings into my purse and handed my purse to me. I thanked them and they all left. The young man and the elderly lady stayed, as they had seen the whole incident and figured the police would want them to answer questions.

The police arrived soon after: two officers, a man and a woman. “Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?” the woman officer asked me.

I shook my head. “No, I’m just shaken,” I lied. I dearly wanted to be taken to the Oxley Grove Police Station so I could look for Constable Summers.

“Was anything stolen?” the officer asked me.

I looked in my purse again, just to double check. “No,” I said, “just my coffee.” The officers exchanged glances. “I threw my coffee in his face,” I said. “That’s what made him run off.”

“Are you sure it was a man?” the male officer asked me.

“Yes, no. Um, I’m not sure, sorry.”

“It was definitely a man,” the young man said, and the elderly lady nodded her agreement.

The male officer scratched his chin. “That’s the first incident we’ve had around here lately,” he said.

“In years!” the female officer said. “Did you get a good look at him?”

I shook my head. “No, he was wearing a ski mask.”

The officers asked all three of us to give a description of height and clothes, but it was all a blur, as my ankle was now throbbing so painfully that I felt I might burst into tears.

“Do you feel up to coming down to the station to make a statement?” the female officer asked me.

I jumped to my feet, or rather, foot. “Yes!” I said, altogether too eagerly, and ignoring the sharp pain in my ankle.

I didn’t think I’d be able to walk to my car, and a thought occurred to me. “I’m not from around these parts, and my foot is sore,” I said. “Could you take me to the police station and then give me a ride back to my car?”

The officers seem to think that was a normal request and readily agreed, much to my relief. The pain in my ankle was growing steadily worse, and I was worried that it was broken, after all. A broken ankle would put an end to all my stake outs. What rotten luck.

Then it occurred to me—what if it had nothing to do with luck? What if it wasn’t a random mugging after all? What if the mugger had targeted me specifically? But what would he hope to gain? I had no idea.

I had to protest a couple more times that I didn’t need to see a doctor. Presently, we pulled up outside an imposing brick and glass building. There to my delight, out the front of the building, were the words
Oxley Grove Police Station
on a big blue and white sign at the top of a huge blue pole.

Could my attack have been a blessing in disguise? I had hoped to stake out the front of the Oxley Grove Police Station, but now, I was actually inside. I couldn’t have been happier.

I was presently even happier, because as soon as I hobbled in the entrance of the police station, a uniformed officer walked past me. From behind the desk, one of his colleagues called out, “Hey, Summers! You forgot this.”

Constable Summers turned back to the man with a smile. I took a good look at him, and was sure I would recognize him again. Maybe my luck
had
changed.

Later that night, I wasn’t so quite happy. I was lying on my couch, my ankle elevated and covered with ice packs. I was full of Advil and wine, perhaps not the recommended combination, but it had the desired effect. It had been a difficult drive home with my foot. I hadn’t seen a doctor, but I was fairly certain that my ankle wasn’t broken. It was taking my weight better as time wore on, although it was still quite painful.

At any rate, my foot was improving to the degree where I didn’t think it would hinder any future stake outs. And although my stake out attempt today had been thwarted, I had indeed had a good look at Constable Summers himself. Now all I had to do was follow him to the safe house and rescue Alum.

Chapter 12

I was awoken the following morning by the insistent tone of my phone. I groggily reached for it and answered it. As soon as I heard my agent’s voice, I knew it was big trouble. William very rarely called—he generally only emailed.

“Prudence, I have some bad news. Everyone has canceled!”

I struggled to sit up in bed and both cats meowed in protest as I did so. “What?” I said in my best No You Didn’t Wake Me Up voice.

“Yes, I’m afraid it’s true,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Tonight, too?” I said.

William didn’t speak for a moment, so I prepared myself for the worst. “No, not tonight. It’s going ahead, but Prudence, I’m awfully sorry to say that I don’t have anything else booked for you now.”

“Thanks anyway, William, for all your help,” I said wearily. “I’ll just have to think of another source of income.” I had visions of walking twenty dogs at once on my way to thrift stores where I would buy interesting bits of china for a pittance and sell them for fifty times as much on eBay. I should be so lucky!

William was still apologizing. “I’m doing my best, really I am. I’ll keep pushing for more shows for you. And this is just a suggestion, and I won’t get any royalties from this, but the highway runs through your town, doesn’t it? Is there a coffee shop or some sort of place in your town where you could give tourists tea leaf readings or something like that?”

I sighed. “William, you of all people should know I’m not psychic. Anyway, thanks for the suggestion, and I know you’re doing your very best.” I thanked him again and hung up.

As I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, I noticed that my ankle was no longer throbbing. All that Advil and ice compresses the night before must have worked, after all. The bruising had subsided, but the ankle was still swollen. I gingerly tested it as I stood up. It was vastly better, but not yet right.

I hobbled to the bathroom, hoping fervently that my ankle would be improved by my show that night. I felt a moment of panic as I thought it might be the last show that I would ever do. And at that, it was only a show in Armidale, not even a show in one of the big cities. Nevertheless, it was fully booked, but that was a small consolation if it was going to be the last bit of income I would ever receive as a clairvoyant medium.

I washed my face and stared in the mirror, and then instantly wished I hadn’t. There were dark circles under my eyes, but I supposed it was nothing that half a bottle of concealer couldn’t fix.

I was desperate for my morning caffeine, but thought I should lie on the couch for a while, just to process the information and give my ankle another rest for a few moments. Possum and Lily complained so loudly that they hadn’t been fed, that I had to abandon that plan and struggle to the kitchen. After I had fed them, I thought I might as well make the coffee, but just as I did so, there was insistent knocking on my door.

Constance!
I thought with fear. Perhaps I could pretend I wasn’t home, but then again she would have seen my car. She was likely to keep banging on the door until I answered. Of course, it might be someone else entirely.

I walked over to the door as fast as my ankle permitted. “Who is it?” I asked.

“It’s me, Barbara,” a voice said.

I opened the door.

“Who were you expecting?” Barbara asked. “You never ask who’s there. Were you expecting Constance?” She sniggered.

“Sort of,” I said, clutching onto the door and resting my bad foot. “But I was mugged in Tamworth yesterday.”

Barbara gasped, and then looked down at my foot. “Why didn’t you call me and tell me? Are you hurt?”

“I twisted my ankle when he pushed me in the gutter.”

Barbara gasped. “What? Who?”

“Come in, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Barbara helped me to the couch and fussed over me, putting cushions under my foot so that it was elevated. “Can I get you anything?”

“Yes, please,” I said. “I’ve just made coffee in the kitchen. Please bring me a large cup, and get yourself one, too.”

Barbara did as I requested, and I filled her in on the previous day’s events. She sat there the whole time with her jaw hanging open. “But I’ve never heard of a mugging in Tamworth,” she said, puzzled. “I’m glad he didn’t get away with your keys or your purse.”

I nodded absently, as something she had said just struck me. I in fact had been thinking it was a random mugging. But what if it was to do with my murder investigation? The man had clearly not been trying to hurt me, but had in fact been after my purse. That was why I thought it had nothing to do with my investigation, but what if I was getting too close to the constable’s murderer? I had asked questions of both Constable Decker’s wife and his mistress. If either of them was the murderer, then perhaps they wanted my personal effects to see if they could get more information on me.

I shook my head. No, that didn’t make sense. They both knew I was a clairvoyant medium. I had given each of them my business card, and Christine had even googled me.

“Toast?”

I looked at Barbara blankly. “Sorry, what did you say? I was away with the fairies.”

Barbara smiled patiently. “I asked if you would like toast? Or cereal? Have you had breakfast yet?”

“I haven’t had breakfast yet, and I would love some toast, please. With vegemite.”

Barbara went back into the kitchen, and I tried to push Possum and Lily away from my foot. They seemed intrigued by it and wanted to swat at it.

“You have a show tonight, don’t you?” Barbara asked when she returned and handed me a plate of vegemite toast.

I nodded. “I hope my ankle’s okay by then.”

“You look very pale, Prudence, if you don’t mind me saying so. Do you think your foot will be okay tonight, or should you cancel?”

I shook my head. “I’ve just had some bad news, in fact. My agent called this morning to tell me that the show’s now the only one he has booked for me. I’m going to have to look for another line of work.”

Barbara appeared to be puzzled. “But why? You’re been making a living doing this for years, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” I said sadly. “My agent thinks it’s all the international clairvoyant mediums coming to Australia lately. Plus there are now a lot of local clairvoyant mediums. There used to be hardly any professional mediums in the country, but that situation has changed radically. I don’t think I can make a living out of it for much longer. In fact, I don’t think I can make a living out of it at all. Tonight’s probably going to be the last show I’ll ever do.” I did my best to bite back the tears that were threatening to fall.

“Oh, but that’s awful!” Barbara said. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

I shrugged, and readjusted my foot on the pile of cushions. “I’ve only just found out myself,” I told her. “It’s only been in the last few days that people have started canceling shows.”

“But what will you do?” she asked urgently.

“I don’t have a clue,” I said, “but I’ll have to think of something soon.”

“What could you do?”

I shook my head. “I don’t have a clue, not a single clue at all.” My life had gone from carefree to a life of worry. My main concern was, of course, that Alum’s partner would track him down and kill him. Then there were the secondary worries, such as what on earth I was going to do for a living now, and the further worry that Alum mightn’t recognize me in his waking state. I shook my head. It seemed my life was spiraling downhill.

I reminded myself to focus. If I could find Constable Decker’s murderer, I could ask him or her where the safe house was. I had to rescue Alum, and that was my primary drive right now. That, in fact, was a matter of life and death. I could worry about my finances later.

“You don’t think a rival medium sent that man to hurt you so you couldn’t do the show tonight, do you?” Barbara slapped herself on the head. “Forget I said that. That was a silly thing to say.”

“He wasn’t actually trying to hurt me,” I said. “He was definitely after my purse. Besides, I’m no threat to any of the mediums out there right now. Tonight will be my last show; I’m sure of that.”

“Try not to worry, Prudence,” Barbara said. “I know it’s easy to say, but things often have a way of working out.”

“I sure hope you’re right,” I said with a big sigh.

Barbara laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I asked her.

“I think I’m just getting paranoid,” she said, running her hands through her hair. “I thought Constance had bought a new car and was spying on you. When I pulled up in your driveway today, a car hightailed it out of there.”

My breath caught in my throat and my stomach clenched. “What color was the car?” I asked her. “Was it a white car?”

Barbara raised her eyebrows. “Yes, as a matter of fact it was. I think it was a white Toyota. Why?”

I felt myself shivering uncontrollably. “Barbara, that car’s been following me for days, well, for the last few days anyway. I thought I was imagining it at first.”

Barbara’s face was filled with concern. “Should you call the police?”

“But what could I tell them? I have no idea why anyone would want to follow me. It just doesn’t make sense. “

“And then you were mugged in Tamworth, of all places!” Barbara said. “Surely those things must be related.”

I agreed. “Yes they must be.” I could hardly tell Barbara that I was investigating the murder of a police officer and that I had been told about the murder by a ghost who wasn’t dead. In fact, I must be losing my mind to tell Barbara that I had been followed in the first place. I needed to be more careful.

Just then, the front door flew open, and Barbara and I squealed with shock. I had clearly forgotten to lock it when I’d let Barbara in earlier. I couldn’t be so careless again, not after being mugged and with someone following me.

Constance flung herself into the room. “I’ve been listening at the door,” she said without so much as an ounce of shame. “I was on my way to see why you weren’t speaking to me, Prudence, when I overheard what you said about being followed. I should appoint myself as your personal bodyguard. Did I ever tell you that I got my private detective’s license years ago? And that I hold black belts in karate, ninjutsu, aikido in two different styles, and judo?”

Barbara and I exchanged glances.

I figured that the most exercise Constance had ever done was lifting a glass of wine to her mouth. Then again, I supposed ordering people around took up a lot of energy, too.

“Prudence was mugged yesterday, and she is resting up now so that she can do her show tonight,” Barbara told Constance.

“Yes, I’ve already told you that I overheard that when I was listening outside the door,” Constance said waspishly.

I picked up a cushion and stuffed it over my face. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about, and now Constance hadn’t taken the hint that I wanted a break from her. And I hadn’t been tactful either—I had told her in no uncertain terms. What more did I have to do to get through to the woman?

“I’ll come to your show tonight and be your bodyguard and watch dog,” Constance declared proudly.

I waved my arm at her urgently. “No! Please don’t come to my show. It makes me nervous when friends come,” I added.

Constance simply ignored me. “No, I
am
coming, Prudence, and
you
can’t stop me.”

“Yes, I
can
stop you,” I said through gritted teeth. “It’s fully booked, and you need a ticket to get in.”

Constance’s eyes darted from side to side, as they always did when she was trying to find her way around someone’s wishes.

Barbara came to my rescue. She took Constance by the arm. “Come on, Constance. We need to leave Prudence to sleep. She needs a lot of rest before she does the show.”

“But you’re here!” Constance said in an accusing tone.

“I only got Constance some coffee and some toast, and then I was going to leave her in
peace
,” Barbara said, emphasizing the word
peace
.

She managed to get Constance through the front door, quite an amazing feat, given that Constance was struggling and complaining all the way.

As soon as they were outside, I hurried as best I could to the door and locked it. I leaned against it, and then the tears fell.