Big Ghosts Don’t Cry Read online

  I chewed my lower lip. “I don’t know. That might be too much.”

  The full force of Beechwood Harbor’s ghost brigade was overwhelming to me, and I saw a good majority of them on a daily basis.

  “Well, what do you suggest?” Gwen asked, tossing her hands up. “No funeral and no barbecue, so what? I could take her to Siren’s Song and let her decompress.”

  “The coffee shop? How would that help?”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “The espresso machine is like white noise.”

  Of my three permanent ghostly companions, Gwen was not the one I’d choose for new-ghost orientation. She was a vivacious spirit with a fuller afterlife than most of the living enjoyed while still breathing. She also had a tendency to talk a hundred miles an hour and forget that not everyone wants to be the life of the party.

  Why couldn’t Flapjack have been the one to come find me? He wouldn’t have given Sabrina more than a second glance.

  Which reminded me …

  “What are you even doing here?” I asked Gwen. “I thought you were down at the beach already. Flapjack and Hayward left a while ago to go meet you.”

  “Oh!” Gwen’s eyes brightened. “Well, I was at the beach and you’re never going to believe what I just heard!”

  I groaned. “You came all this way to gossip?”

  Gwen blinked. “Of course!”

  Sabrina turned. “What am I supposed to do, now? Why am I even here?”

  Torn between a ghost’s existential crisis and Gwen’s gossip-fest. Lucky me.

  “Usually, it means you have some kind of unfinished business. Any idea what that might be?” Gwen asked, her tone of voice overly cheery, as if asking the woman if she’d seen the most recent Nicolas Sparks movie.

  “I—I don’t know,” Sabrina replied. “I don’t even know what happened to me! How did I die?”

  Gwen looked at me expectantly.

  “I—I don’t know,” I said. “I’m just here to deliver the flowers.” I gestured at the nearest bouquet.

  “Who ordered them?” Sabrina asked, gliding a little more gracefully toward the wreath at the front of the room. “My parents?”

  “Yes,” I replied softly. “They picked out everything personally. They told me lilacs were your favorites. We used lavender here.”

  “It’s pretty. Thank you.”

  Gwen gave me a pained look. “Maybe you could do the … thing?”

  My eyes widened, shocked she’d even bring it up.

  “What thing?” Sabrina asked. “Please, if there’s anything you can do to help me--”

  “I have a support group for ghosts,” I told her, giving Gwen a warning glance. “Local ghosts come to my flower shop once a week to talk about their experiences and offer each other help and support. There are ghosts in every stage of, er, afterlife. It might help.”

  “I’ll be there, too,” Gwen offered helpfully. “Do you want me to come and get you? Will you be here, you think?” She glanced around the viewing room with a wary eye.

  “I—I don’t know. I guess so.” She shrugged and glanced around the room. “I haven’t tried leaving yet.”

  “Wait, you woke up here?” I asked.

  Sabrina nodded.

  That was a little odd. In my experience, ghosts usually started their new life at the place their previous one had ended. So, unless Sabrina kicked it at the funeral home, she was a little delayed. Her earthly life had ended a week and a half ago, according to the information I’d gathered from her parents. They’d pushed things out to make the arrangements for the service and to allow time for her extended family to make travel plans, as most of them lived out of state.

  I glanced at my watch. The barbecue was starting in fifteen minutes. Everyone would be trekking down to the sand carrying coolers, beach chairs, and picnic blankets. The kids would have all their sandcastle-making tools, and there were bound to be at least a dozen dogs running around, barking at seagulls. I’d told Lizzie I would meet her down there.

  Then there was the potato salad. And yes, it really was that good.

  “I have to get going,” I said, a new flurry of impatience welling up. “I have to go home and change and get my strawberry pie from the fridge. Listen, Sabrina, come to the support group. We’ll talk more then, okay?”

  The woman nodded but I couldn’t decide whether she intended to follow through or not. Gwen glanced at me. There was no doubt she was itching to get back to the beach. When the whole town gathered, there was bound to be gossip buzzing like a hive of bees, and Gwen would be there to scoop up as much honey as she could. As much as she wanted to help Sabrina, she wouldn’t be able to resist the call back to the beach.

  “Are you sure you want to stay here?” she asked gently. “The barbecue will be a lot more fun.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Sabrina said, her jawline set.

  Gwen looked at me. I shrugged.

  “Okay. Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find us.”

  I left the viewing room with Gwen in tow. Karla came around the corner, clipboard in hand, and offered me a warm smile. Garth, her full-time employee, followed right behind, carefully carrying the large wreath of flowers.

  “Thank you, Garth. I got the easel all prepped,” I told him.

  He nodded and then continued into the viewing room.

  Karla smiled. “Beautiful work, as always.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you heading to the barbecue?” she asked.

  “After a quick pit stop back home,” I replied with a nod.

  “Maybe I’ll see you later then,” Karla replied. She gestured at the doors of the viewing room. “It’s a small affair tonight. I don’t imagine the service will take long and they’ve opted to have the reception offsite.”

  Smiling, I raised a hand and moved to sidestep her. “See you down there, then.”

  As soon as I started the delivery van’s engine, Gwen winked into the passenger seat and started babbling about Lizzie’s maybe-date with Bryant from the hardware store. “According to Tanya, Bryant just got out of a two year long-distance relationship with his high school sweetheart. He’s not exactly on the rebound, but he hasn’t been single long. Although, with those shoulders and that chin dimple—”

  “Gwen!” I snapped.

  She jolted, her eyes going wide. “What?”

  “Why did you tell that woman I could help her? And then to even suggest that I use my power on her! What were you thinking?”

  “Oh. Well, I don’t know, Scarlet. She seemed so sad, I thought maybe you could just … give her a little nudge.”

  I closed my eyes, silently counting to five when I stopped at the four-way intersection. When I opened them again, I smashed the heel of my hand against the turn signal and pulled the van to the left. “First of all, don’t make it sound like it’s not a big deal. It is and we both know it. I don’t have a handle on my powers. For all I know, I could try to help her cross over and end up sling-shotting her to who knows where! I know you were only trying to help, but I’m not comfortable discussing my powers. Especially not with strange ghosts.”

  “I’m sorry, Scarlet.” Gwen’s eyes dropped to the floor between us. “I wasn’t trying to cause problems.”

  “I know,” I said gently, wishing I could reach out and pat her arm for reassurance. I hadn’t meant to snap at her, but I needed to get the point across, and sometimes Gwen wasn’t the best at picking up subtleties.

  I drew in a deep breath and smiled at her. “It’s all right. No harm done. And I think after some time to think, Sabrina will join our group. Can you try to swing by and invite her again, once it’s closer to Tuesday’s meeting, I mean?”

  That made her brighten. Gwen was frozen in time right at her peak, barely out of her teen years when she took an ill-fated header off a stage at an outdoor music festival. Her feathered hair was silver hued, along with the rest of her, but I knew that if I’d met her in life, I’d have mistaken her for a young Farah
Fawcett from that iconic red bathing suit shot. She had an open face with expressive eyes and an easy smile. With Gwen, I never had to wonder what she was thinking. One, because she was a total chatterbox and always said exactly what was on her mind, and two, because the girl had zero chance of ever developing a poker face.

  Gwen had no desire to leave her spectral life. She loved being a ghost and spent her days as the maven of Beechwood Harbor’s spirit community. Since I’d moved to town, she’d latched onto me as a conduit to help her many friends and was nearly single-handedly responsible for the weekly meetings I held to help local ghosts. In exchange, she made sure—well, she did her best—to keep ghosts from interrupting me or approaching me cold on the street….

  Or while at the grocery store. Or visiting the local coffee house. Or dining at a restaurant. Or, and perhaps most importantly, whilst driving.

  Not to mention, Hayward had a massive crush on her, and I was fairly certain those feelings were reciprocated. They’d gone back and forth a little in recent weeks, but at my last inquiry, they were inching ever nearer to making things official. Though, I wasn’t 100% sure what that entailed, considering they were both dead. I’d never asked, unsure I ever wanted to find out what went on behind the closed doors of a spirit-world boudoir.

  I pulled the van into its designated spot and cut the engine.

  “Go on ahead,” I told Gwen. “I’m going to go upstairs and change. I’ll meet you down at the beach. Try to scare off anyone by the potato salad.”

  She laughed and then made a mock salute. “You got it! Bye, Scar!”

  With a swirl, she zoomed out the side of the van door.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, my toes were buried in the sand and a plate of Mrs. Garland’s potato salad balanced on my knees. I’d changed into a pair of denim shorts and a black tank top. I wore a floppy sunhat to keep my fair skin away from the sun’s harsh rays, all the while hoping for a tiny bit of color on my stems.

  The beach was packed with locals. Most congregated around the two folding tables laden down with the potluck dishes. A volleyball net was set up closer to the surf and currently hosted a three-on-three of high school teens. The boys had stripped their t-shirts off and the girls were trying—and failing miserably—not to ogle.

  “Ah, young love.”

  I snorted at Flapjack’s sudden appearance in the beach chair beside me. “I think you’ve got the wrong L-word, my friend. After all, no one does desperate lust quite like a pack of teenagers.”

  Flapjack smiled. “I miss those days. Back when you kissed a Justin Timberlake poster every night before bed.”

  “I did not!” I protested, even as my cheeks warmed, no doubt a tomato red that I couldn’t blame on the late afternoon sun.

  “Scar, that thing had enough lip gloss kiss prints, it could have doubled as a Revlon ad.”

  “Gee, how lucky I am to have a walking, talking time capsule,” I muttered, sinking down in my chair. I shoveled in a bite of potato salad, the tangy bliss perking up my mood.

  Flapjack swished his tail, clearly pleased with himself. “I’ll always be here to remind you of your glory days.”

  “Wonderful.”

  I shoved another bite of potato salad into my mouth and swallowed hard when a shadow appeared in the sand beside my own. “This seat taken?”

  I craned around and saw Chief Jeffery Lincoln standing behind Flapjack’s chair. “No, please, sit.”

  Flapjack shot me a dirty look and jumped down a moment before Chief sat on—or, rather, through—him. He hiked his tail in the air and started down the beach. A few other ghosts dotted the party, invisible guests to the afternoon barbecue, some of whom had been in town since its founding. Across the way, chatting with Gwen and Hayward, were Posy and Earl, the town’s original founders.

  “Are you enjoying the barbecue?” Chief Lincoln asked, stabbing his fork through a juicy piece of late-season watermelon.

  “I am, thanks. And you?”

  “Definitely. It’s one of my favorite annual celebrations,” he replied, bobbing his head. “It’s nice when everyone gets together like this, and the beach cleanup was a big success.”

  “It does look great. And so much quieter now.”

  He chuckled. “I can’t stay long, though.”

  “Oh?”

  “There’s a service up at the funeral home, and I’m making it a point to be there for the family.”

  “You mean Sabrina Hutchins’ service?”

  “That’s right.” He gave me a curious look.

  “I just dropped off the flowers,” I explained.

  “Oh, right! Of course.”

  “Did you know her?” I asked, scooping up my next bite.

  “Not personally. I’m part of the investigation, working with the Pine Shoals PD.”

  My spoon stilled midway to my mouth. “Investigation?”

  Chief nodded. “Tragically, Sabrina was murdered.”

  A hot knife of guilt sliced through me and I put my fork down, my appetite gone.

  Chapter 4

  The festive barbecue faded to the background as Chief Lincoln’s words sunk in, echoing through my mind. “Murdered?” I repeated, suddenly feeling too cold.

  Chief Lincoln looked pained. “Sorry. I assumed you knew. It was in the paper.”

  “Oh, I don’t usually get around to reading it,” I said.

  He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “She was attacked in her home. At this point, we think it might be a copycat to the Seaside Strangler.”

  Now that case I’d heard about. Two summers ago, before I’d even moved to Beechwood Harbor, a serial killer had moved up the coast, murdering three women and attempting a fourth, before he was apprehended. The case made national news and had caught my attention even while I’d been home with my family in Arizona.

  “My mom tried to talk me out of moving here because of that case,” I told Chief Lincoln. “If he hadn’t been caught in the weeks before my move, I’m pretty sure she would have followed me to the airport and staged a sit-in, right there on the tarmac.”

  Chief smiled. “She sounds like my mother. During my first few weeks of police training, I was convinced she was going to pop out of the bushes and try to kidnap me.”

  I laughed softly. “I imagine you’d never have heard the end of that one, if she’d tried.”

  “No kidding!” He chuckled and popped the piece of watermelon into his mouth. “My grandmother calls me weekly to tell me that she has her whole church praying over me, and right before we hang up, she always reminds me to put the safety on on my gun.”

  “That’s adorable,” I replied, grinning at him.

  The darkness seeped away, and I put Sabrina in the back of my mind with a brief mental note to make sure Gwen looked after her.

  “Are you here alone tonight?” Chief Lincoln asked, glancing around. “Where’s Lucas? Holly mentioned he was moving to town.”

  “Oh, well, not quite.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “He’s in Seattle now. He got a job offer with an international security firm and they put him up in a fancy corporate rental until he finds a more permanent place.”

  “Aha. Well good for him! I’ll bet you’re glad he’s closer.”

  I smiled. “Seattle’s still a little far away for my taste, but I’m glad he’s in one place, at least for the most part.”

  Chief took a bite and chewed it thoughtfully while watching the volleyball players for a moment before scanning the beach. He was clearly off duty, but even so, there was something about the set of his shoulders and keenness to his eyes that told me he wasn’t fully relaxed. He paused, something catching his eye, and a smile spread across his lips.

  I followed his line of sight and found his fiancée, Cassie Frank, standing at the buffet line chatting with Holly Boldt and Adam St. James.

  It always entertained me to think about Beechwood’s residents interacting with supernatural beings, completely clueless to the power and magic
that pulsed just under the surface of the sleepy town. The Haven Council and Supernatural Protection Agency would never let supernaturals go public, but I sometimes liked to think about the looks on people’s faces if they were to ever realize a witch had been serving up their coffee or the shaggy black dog that raided the town dumpsters, rummaging for food, was actually the town’s heartthrob.

  Cassie and Chief Lincoln were both human and blissfully unaware of the magic world they lived in.

  “How are the wedding plans coming along?” I asked.

  Chief shrugged, still smiling. “I told Cassie to tell me when and where. The rest is up to her unless she needs help.”

  I laughed. “Smart man.”

  Chief Lincoln’s phone chirped, and he reached for the case he wore clipped to his belt to silence it. “That’s my cue,” he said, pushing to his feet. “Enjoy the rest of the barbecue, Scarlet.”

  “Thanks, Chief.”

  I waved and he set off, his stride as purposeful as possible in the deep sand.

  “Who was murdered?” Flapjack asked, winking back into the chair.

  I jolted. “Don’t do that!”

  “What?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “We’ve discussed the blinking in and out thing.”

  He sighed. “You really do take all the fun out of the afterlife, you know.”

  I rolled my eyes and scooped up my final bite before the wind could kick up sand and ruin it.

  “Seriously, though. Are you gearing up for another turn as the ginger Nancy Drew?”

  Mouth full, I shot him a scowl.

  Flapjack swished his tail. “Fine. I’ll make Gwen tell me. You know she can’t keep a secret to save her life. Well,” he smirked, his whiskers twitching, “guess it’s a little late for that anyway.”

  I leaned over, tugged at the beach tote I’d brought with me, and grabbed a small silver mister bottle. With two pumps, a lemon-infused mist sailed in Flapjack’s direction. In the blink of an eye, the Himalayan arched his back, hackles raised. He hissed at me and then vanished.