Ghostly Deceits (A Harper Harlow Mystery Book 3) Page 7

  “I’ll still beat you if you don’t stop hitting on her,” Jared threatened.

  “Sometimes you just have to put up with a beating if something is worth the pain,” Josh teased, pushing himself up from his chair. “You guys have time for another mug of coffee … or more food if you haven’t had enough. The murder mystery will start in about forty minutes, and I have to check on a few things beforehand.”

  “We’ll see you later,” Jared said. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks,” Josh replied. “I think I’m going to need it.”

  “LOOK at this,” Harper said, her voice barely a whisper as she walked into the Stokes Hotel library twenty minutes later. The body was supposed to be discovered in the distinguished room relatively soon and Harper wanted to see it before everyone descended and ruined the ambiance. “I’ve never seen this many books in my life.”

  “I think this must be what the inside of your head looks like,” Jared said, his eyes wide as he took in the two-story room. Every wall was covered with bookshelves and every shelf was packed to the brim with antique books. The shelves had wrought iron ladders attached and they slid the length of the shelves. “This really is beautiful.”

  “Now this is a room I would like,” Harper said, giggling when her voice echoed. “Of course, you could fit our entire house in this place and still have room for Zander’s ego.”

  “What do you think all of these books are?” Jared asked, pulling a leather tome from the shelf and glancing inside. “I think this is Latin.”

  Harper glanced over his shoulder and nodded. “I think it’s a Latin textbook. I can’t be sure, though. The only Latin book I ever saw was in a poetry class I took in college.”

  “I can’t picture you in a poetry class,” Jared said, slapping the book shut and returning it to the shelf. “You seem like more of a horror girl, if you ask me. King … Koontz … those types of things.”

  “I do love a scary novel,” Harper admitted. “I took poetry because Zander was insistent that he was going to learn how to write it to attract men. We read and wrote it for the class, and I barely passed.”

  Jared snickered. “Please tell me you have these poems hidden away at your house somewhere.”

  Harper averted her eyes. “Nope. I lost them years ago.”

  Jared didn’t believe that for a second. “Zander will find them for me,” he said. “I’ll just bet he will do a dramatic reading for me, too.”

  “Ugh. Don’t you dare,” Harper said. “My poetry was terrible.”

  “How was Zander’s?”

  “He got stuck on the ‘roses are red, violets are blue, look in my pants and you’ll find something to surprise you’ vein of poetry,” Harper answered.

  Jared’s laugh was loud enough to fill the entire room just when the butler Trask entered.

  “Do you need something?” Trask asked, his gaze busy as he looked Harper and Jared up and down. Apparently he wasn’t impressed. “The mystery won’t start for fifteen minutes.”

  “We’re here for the ambiance,” Harper replied, wrinkling her nose. “It’s delightful.”

  “I see,” Trask said. “I believe you’re Josh’s friend from college, right? Mr. Monroe?”

  “I am,” Jared confirmed, narrowing his eyes as he tried to get a handle on Trask’s attitude. “I understand you’ve been working for the Stokes family for quite some time.”

  “Since Josh was five,” Trask answered. “This house has been my home for the better part of my life.”

  “It’s a hotel now,” Harper pointed out. “Do you still live here?”

  “I do,” Trask said, walking to the bookshelf and pushing in the book Jared handled so it lined up with the other items on the shelf. “Hopefully this hotel thing will be a temporary measure.”

  “Don’t you like the house being turned into a hotel?” Jared asked.

  “Of course not,” Trask sniffed. “It’s undignified. This is a grand home. It’s a showplace. It is not a spot for wayward travelers and … derelicts … to hang their hats for a night. The house was meant to house the finest family in the area. It certainly wasn’t meant to be a place where people pretend to murder others for sport.”

  Harper pursed her lips to keep from laughing, Trask’s outrage amusing her. Jared was merely puzzled.

  “If you hate it so much, why not find another job?” Jared asked. “I have a feeling the hotel is going to be sticking around for some time. Josh made it sound as if this is going to be a permanent business.”

  “Nothing is permanent, Mr. Monroe,” Trask said. “This sad chapter in a great house’s history will not last. You can be sure of that.”

  “You’re a real charmer, aren’t you?” Jared wasn’t amused in the least with Trask’s attitude.

  “I am a professional,” Trask said. “I’m sure you don’t understand what that means.”

  “You’d be surprised what I understand,” Jared said. “What you should understand is that Josh is doing the best that he can to save this place. It’s not some personal slap at you. It’s business, and I think Josh can turn this place into a real moneymaker if he’s given the tools to do it.”

  “Of course you would think that,” Trask said. “You’re a police officer, correct?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “While I believe you have an important job to do, you cannot possibly understand the history of this house,” Trask said. “It’s out of your area of expertise. You should excel at the mystery game, though. I would think you’d have a leg up.”

  “Wow,” Jared muttered, turning his attention to Harper. “Do you want to hang out with Mr. Friendly or go somewhere else until the fun begins?”

  “I’m actually curious why you would go around telling people all of this when you’re supposed to be working for the Stokes family,” Harper said, her eyes dark as they fixed on Trask. “They’re trying to build this into a business and they need strong word of mouth to do that. It seems to me that you’re working against Josh’s efforts. Why would he keep you here if that’s the case?”

  “Josh was always a good boy and he’s turned into a charming man,” Trask replied. “That doesn’t mean he’s lord of the manor.”

  “I think he is lord of the manor,” Harper countered, crossing her arms over her chest. She clearly didn’t like Trask any more than Jared did. “My understanding is that he’s in charge of all of this. Doesn’t that make him your boss?”

  “You run haunted cemetery tours, right?” Trask asked, his tone derisive. “Do you really think you have the knowledge base to be involved in this conversation?”

  “Hey!” Jared barked, taking a step forward. “What’s your problem?”

  “I’m sure I don’t have a problem,” Trask replied, flicking a piece of imaginary lint from his shoulder. “I think you must be confused.”

  “Is something going on here?”

  Jared turned his attention to the doorway where Linden Stokes, Josh’s father, hovered. “Nothing is going on,” Jared said. “How are you, Mr. Stokes? I didn’t really get a chance to talk to you last night. Thank you so much for inviting us.”

  “I was happy to see you, too,” Linden said, his smile welcoming as his eyes darted worriedly in Trask’s direction. “It’s been a long time. You’re certainly not the rabble rouser you were back then.”

  “I hope not,” Jared said, smirking. “Josh isn’t either.”

  “No, he’s grown into a fine man,” Linden said. “I understand you have, too. You work at the Whisper Cove Police Department, right?”

  Jared nodded.

  “How did you end up there?”

  “I really wanted to work for a bigger department but there weren’t a lot of openings,” Jared explained. “I thought I could start at Whisper Cove and work my way to another department in a few years.”

  “That sounds smart,” Linden said. “Whisper Cove is a beautiful area.”

  “It is,” Jared agreed. “Now that I’m there and I’ve seen all that the town has to
offer, I’m not sure I want to move on to a bigger job. I haven’t made any decisions yet, but I think the smaller job might be the perfect job now that I’m in it.”

  “I think your decision hinges on Ms. Harlow more than the job,” Linden said, his eyes twinkling as he glanced at Harper. “I can’t say that I wouldn’t be swayed by her either, though. She is a vision.”

  Jared couldn’t be sure, but he was almost positive he heard Trask snort.

  “I wouldn’t say I’m a vision,” Harper said, moving closer. “I do love Whisper Cove, though.”

  “Harper Harlow,” Linden said, his voice taking off a faraway quality as he racked his brain. “You aren’t related to Phil Harlow, are you?”

  Harper sighed. “It depends,” she answered. “What did he do?”

  Linden chuckled. “He didn’t do anything, my dear,” he said. “We went to summer camp together several years in a row. I always found him delightful. He’s your father, correct?”

  Harper nodded. “He is my dad.”

  “That would make Earl Harlow your grandfather,” Linden said. “I knew him through business dealings he had with my father. They worked together on a development near the shoreline a good fifty years ago. He was a wonderful man.”

  “He was,” Harper said, an odd lump lodging in her throat. Her grandfather died more than twenty years before and she still missed him. Ironically, it was her grandfather’s death that revealed she could see and talk to ghosts. He visited her after passing away and before moving on. Her parents didn’t believe her at the time when she said her grandfather was there, but they did now – even though they weren’t remotely interested in her job. “I miss him a lot.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Linden said, his expression thoughtful. “Did your grandfather ever take you golfing with him?”

  Harper nodded. “He did,” she confirmed. “He would let me drive the cart even though I could barely reach the pedals.”

  “I know,” Linden said. “You ran his cart into mine one day at the course in New Baltimore. You were tiny, barely up to my waist. That blond hair of yours was wild and you kept denying you drove into my cart on purpose and instead claimed a woman in an evening gown ran in front of you and caused you to swerve.”

  Harper stilled, surprised. She had no memory of the incident, but if she had to guess she didn’t think it was a woman she saw, but a ghost. She thought her grandfather was the first ghost she encountered. Perhaps she was wrong. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t remember that.”

  “You were very small and your grandfather bribed you with ice cream not to tell anyone what you did, if I remember correctly,” Linden said. “You got Blue Moon and your mouth and tongue were stained for hours.”

  “It’s weird that you two have met,” Jared said.

  “It’s a small world,” Linden agreed. “Well, we’ll have to catch up later. I would love to hear how your father is doing, Ms. Harlow. Is he still as crazy as ever?”

  “You have no idea,” Harper said.

  “Well, I have to make sure a murder goes off without a hitch. Will you excuse me?”

  “Absolutely,” Harper said, flashing him a smile before she shot Trask a sneer as he followed his boss out the door.

  “That was interesting,” Jared said once it was just the two of them. “You knew Josh’s father.”

  “I didn’t really know him,” Harper argued. “My grandfather knew him.”

  “You were tight with your grandfather, right?”

  Harper nodded. “I loved him.”

  “Well, maybe Linden will have some good stories for you later on,” Jared said. “For now, we have to prepare ourselves for a fake murder. I don’t know what to expect, but it has to be better than a real murder.”

  “And people say you’re not smart,” Harper teased.

  Nine

  Cameron Wilkinson’s death was a thing of beauty. He was stabbed through the heart with an ornate letter opener, his body left at the foot of one of the library ladders. A pool of fake blood cascaded to the floor next to his body and Jared had to swallow his laughter when he saw the horrified look on Trask’s face.

  Harper and Jared watched the proceedings with unveiled interest. They positioned themselves at the far side of the room so they could hear and see everything and yet not get in the way.

  The murder mystery participants took things seriously. They snapped photos with their cell phones, they looked in the dead man’s pockets, and they scoured every inch of the library for clues.

  It was lunchtime when they finally finished, and once Jared and Harper were the only ones left, Cameron Wilkinson climbed up from the ground with little pomp and circumstance and shot Harper a rueful smile. “It pays the bills.”

  “I think it looks fun,” Harper said, grinning. “You made an excellent dead man.”

  “It’s not my first time,” the man said. “My real name is Hal Baker, by the way. I run the Michigan Mystery Troupe. Josh said you guys are here to observe how things go instead of participate. What do you think so far?”

  “I think it looks fun and your presentation was marvelous,” Harper replied.

  “It looked pretty real,” Jared agreed, moving closer to Hal so he could study the man’s shirt. “What did you use for blood?”

  “It’s a mixture of corn syrup and food coloring,” Hal replied. “It’s sticky and gross – and I have to take a shower before lunch – but it’s fairly believable.”

  “I’ll say,” Harper said, glancing closer at the letter opener. “Is that a plastic prop?”

  “Nope. It’s the real deal,” Hal said. “It’s about two centuries old. We have a number of pieces we use for this type of thing. I even have an ancient revolver. It doesn’t work, but it’s gorgeous to look at.”

  Jared took the letter opener from Hal so he could study it up close. “This thing could be legitimately dangerous if someone isn’t careful,” he said. “Aren’t you worried one of these mystery mavens is accidentally going to flip out and stab someone?”

  “Not really,” Hal replied. “It’s never happened before. I don’t know why it would happen now. It’s a prop. The people who come to these things are geeks. They’re not murderers.”

  “Ignore him,” Harper said. “He’s a police officer. He sees danger around every corner.”

  “Maybe that’s because you keep finding trouble,” Jared shot back.

  “I don’t think you’re allowed to talk to me like that after what you said to Josh this morning,” Harper chided. “In fact, I’m going to expect a very long massage in the bathtub tonight if you want to get back in my good graces again.”

  “Oh, Heart, you had me at bath,” Jared said, handing the letter opener back to Hal. “I hope you recover from your death quickly, Hal. I have to take my girl to lunch and then I think I’m going to have busy hands.”

  Hal chuckled. “I think you’re going to have more fun than I am.”

  “I think you’re right,” Jared said.

  “THE SKY is getting dark,” Harper said two hours later, pointing toward the western skyline and shielding her eyes from the sun. “I think a storm is coming.”

  Jared followed her gaze and frowned. Instead of returning to their room after lunch Harper suggested a walk by the water. She loved the lake and wanted to wade for a little bit while they soaked up some rays and shared a few minutes alone. Jared would’ve preferred swimming in their tub, but he refused to be a spoilsport.

  “I’ll check my phone for a forecast,” Jared said. “If it’s going to storm, that’s going to make our evening with the mystery freaks really creepy. You just know they’re going to start seeing murderers behind every curtain and crouching in every shadow.”

  “It could be fun,” Harper hedged. “Although, I was hoping to spend time on our balcony tonight. We kind of forgot about that part of the plan when we got back to our room last night.”

  “Yes, well … that tub is as magical as you are,” Jared said. “It has the ability to distr
act me in the same manner you do.” Jared didn’t witness Harper rolling her eyes because he was focused on his phone. “I’ve got some bad news for you.”

  “I like a storm,” Harper volunteered. “It will cut into our balcony plans, but there’s nothing I love more than a good thunderstorm to cuddle my way through.”

  “You’re definitely going to get that,” Jared said. “I think you might get more than that, though. According to this we’re supposed to get almost two full days of storms. They’re supposed to keep rolling in one after the other.”

  “It’s the heat and humidity,” Harper said. “That always happens during the summer months. It’s especially bad close to the water.”

  “I guess that means we’re going to be doing a lot of cuddling,” Jared said, winking at Harper. “I think I’m up for it, but I might need some motivation.” He suggestively tapped his cheek and Harper rolled up to the balls of her feet and planted a kiss on him.

  “Are you happy?” she asked.

  “I’m getting there,” Jared said, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “I think the storm is still two hours away.”

  “Not according to those clouds,” Harper said.

  “We’ll watch them and see,” Jared said. “We’ll have plenty of time to get back to the hotel if it gets darker. For now, you can enjoy your wading.”

  Harper smirked as she turned back to the water. She’d been dying to ask Jared a question since his conversation with Linden earlier in the day, but now she wasn’t sure if she should.

  She watched as Jared sidled up beside her and dipped his toes into the water.

  “That’s cold,” he said.

  “It’s refreshing.”

  “I think you might secretly be an Eskimo,” Jared said, kicking his toes through the water. He leaned over when something caught his eye and rummaged through the sand with his hand until he came up with a gold necklace. It glinted beneath the sun and Jared studied it with impassioned eyes.

  “What’s that?” Harper asked.

  “It’s a necklace,” Jared said, trying to open the hinged heart. “It’s a locket.”

  “Don’t do that,” Harper said. “You might break it. You should give it to someone at the hotel and see if anyone lost it.”