Diamonds Are a Ghost's Best Friend

  Diamonds Are a Ghost’s Best Friend

  A Beechwood Harbor Ghost Mystery

  Danielle Garrett

  Roots & Wings Press

  Copyright © 2019 by Danielle Garrett

  Edited by Royal Editorial

  Cover Design by Alchemy Book Covers

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Books By Danielle Garrett

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Also by Danielle Garrett

  About the Author

  Books By Danielle Garrett

  BEECHWOOD HARBOR MAGIC MYSTERIES

  Murder’s a Witch

  Twice the Witch

  Witch Slapped

  Witch Way Home

  Along Came a Ghost

  Lucky Witch

  Betwixt: A Beechwood Harbor Collection

  One Bad Witch

  A Royal Witch

  First Place Witch (Coming Soon)

  BEECHWOOR HARBOR GHOST MYSTERIES

  The Ghost Hunter Next Door

  Ghosts Gone Wild

  When Good Ghosts Get the Blues

  Big Ghosts Don’t Cry

  Diamonds are a Ghost’s Best Friend

  HAVEN PARANORMAL ROMANCES

  Once Upon a Hallow’s Eve

  A TOUCH OF MAGIC MYSTERIES

  Cupid in a Bottle

  Newly Wed and Slightly Dead

  Couture and Curses

  Wedding Bells and Deadly Spells

  Introduction

  Diamonds are a Ghost’s Best Friend

  Going to the chapel and we’re gonna get … haunted?

  I’ve got a ring on my finger and a date circled on the calendar, let the wedding planning begin!

  As luck would have it, the little wooded chapel I’ve got my heart set on, is plagued by the not-so-nice spirit of a former bride. She died on what was meant to be her wedding day and isn’t going to step aside to let anyone else take her place at the altar. She claims the chapel is cursed and points to her own murder as a sure sign, but I’m not convinced.

  I’ll have to keep my new reaper powers in check and solve this case the old-fashioned way if Lucas and I have any shot at starting our happily ever after underneath the majestic pines.

  Chapter One

  “Scar, why couldn’t you have found a flower shop to run in Barbados?”

  One hand resting on my broom, I turned to smile at Flapjack, my ghostified Himalayan. “You miss the sun, too?”

  He frowned down at me from his perch in the front window display. According to him, the high shelf gave the best view of the main strip through town, perfect for people watching. Or, in Flapjack’s case, people judging. “I’m a cat. What do you think?”

  “At least it’s quiet,” I said with a wistful sigh. Outside the flower shop, the gray skies stretched as far as I could see, and a fresh downpour pelted the windows with icy raindrops. Even in November, there was beauty to be found along the rustic coastline of Washington State, granted it was a little harder to find.

  “Have you even had a single customer all day?” Flapjack asked.

  I scowled at the reminder. Maybe it was a little too quiet. Then again, business always slumped in the off-season. It was simply the nature of life in a small coastal town. Summertime was always bursting with tourists and each day flew by in a blur, but in the fall and winter, things slowed back down and let everyone catch their breath. As the only flower shop in town, I managed to stay busy enough to keep the lights on, even when the harbor wasn’t up to its neck in tourists, but I still had to be careful and not burn through my savings before the following June.

  “I like the winter,” Gwen, another spirit, chimed in. “People get bored and bored people tend to get into trouble.” A mischievous smile danced across her lips. “And trouble always makes for a good story.”

  Gwen was the town’s gossip maven. She knew everything about everyone and then some. It didn’t matter if you were living or dead—if you resided within a ten-mile radius of the harbor, she had you on her radar. Her forty-plus years as a ghost had largely been spent mining the locals and spinning a narrative that rivaled any of the daytime soap operas. For a small, barely-a-dot-on-the-map kind of town, there was more than enough drama to go around.

  “Speaking of stories,” I said, reaching for my coffee cup, “how’s the Tuesday crowd?”

  “Oh, they’re all fine.” Gwen dismissed the question, waving her hand. “It’s the same old, same old with that group.”

  I arched a brow. “You’re not regretting taking over my position, are you?”

  “No, no. I like hosting everyone, but you know how it is.” She shrugged. “Nothing really changes and there haven’t been any new members to liven things up.”

  Flapjack snorted. “That should be the definition of insanity: waiting for a group of dead people to liven up a party.”

  Gwen ignored the sarcastic feline. “Truth be told, Scarlet, we end up talking about you most of the time.”

  “What? Why?” I asked, slightly taken aback. I’d formed the informal ghost support group shortly after moving into town as a way to keep my day-to-day life as spirit-free as possible. It had never been about me. In fact, most of the time, I’d had little to contribute. I’d been seeing and speaking with ghosts since I was eight years old but still lacked the experience of walking a mile in their proverbial shoes, and I often felt unqualified to offer much more than a sympathetic ear and occasional blanket advice to those processing their new life after death.

  “We have a pool going for when and where you and Lucas will be getting married. All the little details, right down to the style of dress and type of flowers,” she replied.

  Flapjack scoffed. “Good thing you’re all already dead, otherwise I’d say you’re in danger of boring yourselves to death.”

  Gwen smiled sweetly at the fluffy cat. “Oh, Flapjack, you really should pursue a career in stand-up comedy. You’ve clearly missed your calling.”

  I snorted into my coffee cup.

  “I must say, I’m of a like mind with Flapjack on this, my dear,” Hayward Kensington III interjected. He stood before the other store window as Flapjack, watching the dreary morning fog roll by. He glanced back to me with a slight grimace. “I don’t intend that as a slight against you, Lady Scarlet. Truly, I am ecstatic over your pending nuptials, but the wedding talk can become—”

  “Duller than a rusty butter knife?” Flapjack offered helpfully.

  Hayward scowled at
the cat. “It can be quite dry.”

  Gwen planted her fists on her slim hips and tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “You don’t have to listen, then. I’m sure there’s a TV somewhere you could plop your butts in front of.”

  I returned the broom to the closet and circled back to the computer on the front counter. My coffee was lukewarm but I drank the last of it anyway while I waited for my inbox to fully populate. No time like the present to get started on the day’s orders. As I placed my hands on the keyboard, my gaze snagged on the cushion-cut emerald sparkler on my left ring finger and I smiled to myself. I’d been wearing it since Lucas’s proposal at the end of the summer, but its presence on my hand still caught me off guard sometimes and I’d get a giddy, butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling.

  “We could go to McNally’s,” Flapjack suggested to Hayward. “Sturgeon hangs out there before they open, and he can work the remote control.”

  Hayward frowned, even as he started gliding toward the front door. “Yes, but we have to come to an agreement on what to watch, otherwise we’ll be stuck watching one of his infernal automobile races!”

  “See you later,” Flapjack said. “Try not to have too much fun talking about veils and tiaras!”

  I rolled my eyes as the cat and old-timey English gentleman slipped through the door.

  “I honestly don’t know if I like it better when they’re arguing or being friendly with each other,” Gwen mused, her eyes trailing the unlikely duo as they wandered down the sidewalk.

  I laughed softly as the printer whirred into action. “I’ve been asking myself that same question for a long time. I’ll let you know if I come up with the answer.”

  Flapjack had been my childhood cat, first in living color and then as a ghost after his untimely passing, ironically winding up as both my first pet and my first encounter with the spirit world. Hayward was a more recent companion, but we’d spent several years together at this point and it was hard to remember what life had been like without his regal presence.

  “They’re happy for you,” Gwen told me in an earnest tone. “You know that, don’t you?”

  I nodded. “I do.”

  Gwen squealed. “I do!”

  Walked right into that one.

  “So, come on, now that those fuddy-duddies are gone, tell me all about the wedding plans!” she gushed, her feather earrings swaying as she clapped excitedly. “You’re going to make the most beautiful bride!”

  “Thank you,” I replied, smiling. “To be honest, we haven’t really decided on anything yet. It’s still early days.”

  Gwen’s smile faded. “Scarlet, it’s been three months!”

  Judging by the crestfallen look on her face, three months was an eternity in wedding planning years.

  “I mean, it’s November. If you have any hope of pulling together a half-decent spring wedding, you need to be on the ball!”

  “Oh, we’re not trying for spring,” I said, sorting through the orders and placing them in order of importance. “We’re thinking next September.” I glanced up. “At the earliest.”

  Across the work bench, Gwen deflated like a leaky balloon.

  I laughed. “Come on, don’t give me that face. Waiting a year isn’t the end of the world. It’s just that we have a lot of things to untangle before we get to I do.”

  “Like what?” Gwen asked, her eyes going wide. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

  “No!”

  “Okay, whew.” She mimed wiping her brow and sank back down in her chair.

  “Nothing like that,” I assured her. “I meant logistical stuff. Where we’re going to live, what I’m going to do with the flower shop, where to go on the honeymoon. That kind of thing.”

  Lucas had recently landed a job with a high-tech international security firm based out of Seattle. It was a lot closer to home than his last job, traveling the country with a home renovation TV show, but Seattle was still a good three-hour drive from Beechwood Harbor. Balancing a long-distance relationship on top of two demanding jobs, a house hunt, and wedding plans was going to be a delicate dance. We were willing to take our time to make sure we didn’t miss a step.

  “I suppose I should be glad the wedding is a little ways off,” Gwen said, “as that will mean you’ll be here in Beechwood for another summer.”

  A swell of emotion lodged itself in my throat.

  As successful as Lily Pond had become since I’d opened its doors a little over a year ago, it was never going to be able to compete with the salary Lucas netted at his job in Seattle, and Lucas couldn’t relocate to the small town. He liked visiting Beechwood Harbor, but he wouldn’t enjoy living here full time. He liked big cities with lots of things to do and see. I did, too. Prior to moving to Beechwood Harbor, I’d have never imagined myself settling down in general, but even less so in a small town.

  Both of us suffered from an ingrained sense of wanderlust and had initially bonded over our shared love of travel and adventure. The majority of our first dates had been spent sharing a meal while comparing stamps in our passports and telling the stories that went along with them. Travel would always be a part of our life, but somewhere along the way, I’d transformed into a little bit of a homebody in my small-town cocoon.

  A cocoon I wasn’t sure how to leave.

  Gwen knotted her hands together. “I hate to even think of you not being here anymore, Scarlet.”

  “I know,” I said, a familiar pang in my chest. “But I can’t ask Lucas to move here and give up his career.”

  “Maybe he could find something here in town,” Gwen suggested. “I think I saw a hiring sign in the front window of that sporting goods store they just built over in Pine Shoals.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, Gwen, but I’m pretty sure he’d go crazy within a week doing something like that.”

  The ’70s-era ghost shimmered as she slid from the chair and took a turn about the room. Change was hard for anyone, even ghosts. Maybe especially so for ghosts. They were constantly left in the dust, all but forgotten, as the world changed around them.

  Now it was my life that was moving on, threatening to leave her behind.

  “Gwen?” I said gently.

  She turned. “Hmm?”

  “Lucas is coming into town this weekend and I think we’re going to see a chapel on Saturday. Would you maybe want to go with us?”

  “You mean it?” Gwen asked, clasping her hands together as she surged up a few inches off the floor, her semitransparent feet dangling over the hardwoods.

  “Sure,” I replied with a soft smile. “You’ve got a great eye. You’ll be a big help when it comes time to choose a venue.”

  Gwen beamed at the compliment. “I won’t let you down!”

  “I don’t understand why Gwen gets to go and you’re leaving us here.”

  Gwen’s invitation got back to Flapjack and Hayward sometime Saturday morning, and to say Flapjack wasn’t happy about it would be a major understatement.

  “Flapjack,” I sighed, trying not to blink as I swiped a mascara wand over my lashes. I’d overslept the alarm and was scrambling to get ready. With no time to make breakfast or coffee, Lucas had offered to run down to Siren’s Song, the local coffee house, for provisions. He was likely waiting at the curb, wondering what on Earth was taking me so long. The last thing I needed was a pint-sized furball giving me hell over the perceived snub. “It’s not your thing. I mean, we’re going to walk around, meet the minister, er, pastor, and talk about our options. Does that really sound like fun to you?”

  “No,” Flapjack groused, “but I still would have liked the chance to tell you I wasn’t interested.”

  I rolled my eyes and then swore as little black specks stuck to my eyelids. “Peachy,” I mumbled, wiping at the stray mascara with my thumb.

  “Be sure to inspect the water closets, Lady Scarlet!” Hayward said from the hallway. “When I wed my dear Mary, we found ourselves in quite the predicament. I’ll spare you the details, but believe me wh
en I say it’s imperative that your honored guests have the proper facilities.” Hayward gave an unsavory shake of his head before adding, “Granted, it was the 1800s and plumbing wasn’t quite up to your modern standards.”

  I tried hard not to laugh as I quickly finished applying my mascara. “Noted. I’ll check out the bathrooms.”

  Flapjack scoffed. “I get why you don’t want Mr. Bathroom Inspector tagging along, but come on, Scar.”

  Gwen rolled her eyes. “Flapjack, if you’re getting all marshmallowy about your little girl getting married, it’s okay to just say so.”

  “Marshmallowy?” Flapjack scoffed. “Hardly!”

  Gwen gave me a knowing smile.

  “He’s just nosey,” I replied, even as a little warm and fuzzy squiggle wrapped around my heart. He knew me better than anyone, my own family included. “All right, you win. You’ve worn me down. Flapjack, would you like to come to the chapel today?” I flicked off the bathroom lights. “You have to behave yourself, though. No peanut gallery commentary. Making wedding decisions is hard enough without your mockery.”

  “All right, fine,” he agreed with a swish of his fluffy tail. “We can discuss my preference in fish varieties on the way over. I’m leaning toward salmon. Mackerel or sardines would be my first choice, but I’ve been informed by Martha Stewart over here that those aren’t classy fish. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”