Cursed With a Twist (Grumpy Chicken Irish Pub Series Book 4) Read online

  Dog mumbled, “This is his good mood?”

  Bones’ eyes drooped. “I better go make sure everything is caught up before we leave. Please wait, just a minute.” Ginger nodded in agreement and he sprinted back into the kitchen.

  Ginger glanced at me. “The air in here feels calm since Piper and Digger headed for Atlanta this morning. You think the chicken is quiet because the locket is gone?”

  I glanced around the bar. “I don’t know. But you’re right, it feels peaceful since they left.”

  While waiting for Bones, Ginger picked up and bent a plastic stir stick into a pretzel. After a minute she asked, “What do you think Star meant when she said the grumpy chicken is worried about what these other spirits wanted to communicate?” She did not address anyone in particular.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Star says lots of weird stuff. I’ve learned to just let it roll off my back and not fixate on it. Just like most of what is said in this place.”

  Ginger chuckled. “I guess that is a good trait for a bartender.” She threw the bent piece of plastic on the bar. “But Star has always been right when she gets that weird expression. Her voice even becomes softer and kind of eerie. You can tell she really sensed something.”

  Ida added, “I know it spooked me. I don’t like the idea of ghosts trying to tell us something. And the prospect of a concerned chicken ghost is not good.” Ida chuckled, then continued, “I can’t believe I live in a town where saying things like that make sense.”

  I cleaned some glasses, then said, “What about this. Maybe these other spirits want to move in on the pub, Kick the chicken out and make it their home. I hope not, I’m just getting used to the pain in the feathers. But maybe the new ghost tenants won’t break things like the ol’ grumper.”

  Guardrail interjected, “I'd like that. I'd have pickled eggs to eat then.”

  Ginger shook her head. “No, that’s not something they ‘know’ or want to communicate. What you described is a turf war. And that’s not what Star said.”

  Ida added, “Yeah, Star said they wanted to tell you something.”

  Dog asked, “Well, what could a spirit know to tell about another spirit? And in particular, a chicken ghost?”

  Ginger mulled. “You know that brings up some questions I’ve been chewing on. Who is the grumpy chicken and where did it come from? Why is it here?”

  I laughed. “Some things just seem right. Even though she freaks me out with most of the antics, this place has always been home to the grumpy chicken. So I never really thought about that. It feels right.”

  Ginger’s face grew stern. “If we knew a little more about who our chicken spirit is, why it’s here and not someplace else, maybe we would better understand why some other spirits are trying to send us a message concerning her.”

  “Good luck with that one. I’m not sure you can just look up information about a chicken spirit on Facebook.” I looked at Ginger sideways, the way you do when someone proposes a far fetched idea.

  Ginger ignored me and continued. “That’s why I want to ask around town today, Dixie. The grumpy chicken is part of Potter’s Mill history. I’m willing to bet someone knows a legend or some obscure story that can help us connect the locket and the grumpy chicken.”

  Ida threw out, “Well, did you ask your Dad? He seems like the first one to ask.”

  Ginger chuckled. “I did. He said it didn’t matter as long she stays put and sells souvenirs.”

  Tom hollered from the kitchen, “That’s all ya need to know. Stop making a souffle out of a potato.”

  I flinched. “What in the world does that mean, old man?”

  Ginger smiled. “You’re surprised to hear an Irishman relate to potatoes?”

  Tom bellowed from the kitchen. “Ya know what I mean, Dixie. Sometimes a potato is just a potato. Stop poking into the grumper’s story. Leave it alone.”

  I snorted. “That clears it up, Tom. Thanks.”

  Bones pushed open the swinging door and came into the dining room. He had combed his hair and put on a clean shirt. “Ready to go. Let’s do this!”

  Ginger laughed at his energy, rose off her stool, and made for the front door with Bones and Ida. They were chattering about something as they exited. Tom came out into the dining room and walked over to me at the bar. He seemed restless. “I don’t like this, I tell ya. She shouldn’t be spending so much time on that silly locket thing. She might not like what she finds.”

  I exhaled. “You’re overprotective of her sometimes. Especially when it comes to the history of this place. At some point, you have to tell her the whole story. She can handle it.”

  Tom sighed. “I know. But she’s my little girl.”

  “She’s all grown up, married and divorced, solved crimes, including murder. And she deals with you every day. I think she’s tough enough to know the real history of The Grumpy Chicken.”

  “That’s not it. Her mother knew things. She always said that when Ginger knows who she really is, where she came from, it will change her forever.”

  “I hate when you say creepy stuff like that.”

  Tom sighed. “It is no coincidence that this necklace was found on my wife’s headstone. I can feel it in me bones. Jessica is still trying to help me and Ginger.”

  “And how is it helping?”

  “Right now, I don’t know. It’s a mystery and we’ll have to wait and see.”

  “Do you know something you’re not telling me, old man?”

  “Nope. But like you said, Dixie, I’m old and may have forgotten things.” He smiled at me like a big brother who just took a lollipop from his little sister.

  “Jeez, sorry. I’m just your bartender and I can be a little pushy. I know. But I raised three kids on my own, so I have an excuse.” After a pause, I added, “But I do care about you and Ginger and will do whatever I can to help you both.”

  Tom lowered his head and chuckled. “A little pushy? More like a lot. But I know you care, and I appreciate it.” He took a deep breath to collect his thoughts. “This is all happening too soon for me and I’m powerless to do anything. I don’t want to think about this anymore.”

  He turned and went through the swinging door into the kitchen. After a few seconds, from the back of the cook-room the office door clacked shut. Tom hid a special bottle of single-malt Jameson in one of the desk drawers and I was certain he went to commiserate with it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Edith

  The general store took so long to get my knitting materials, but I wanted to give the business to Freddie Warner. It was proper to help our local merchants when you could. My sister Lily disagreed, but she could buy her things her way and I bought mine my way.

  We have lived together our whole lives and Lily and I never managed to marry. But back in our younger days, the boys loved to chase us and we dated our fair share of eligible bachelors. We loved to have fun, especially if it involved motorcycles. One time I took off on Jimmy Parker's prized Indian motorcycle. He ran down the street behind me cussing a blue streak. I laughed the entire time. Suffice it to say it was the last time I ever rode on JP's bike. Our antics also upset our father, a career military man. He was strict, but we loved him to death and he would do anything to make us happy.

  Everyone in our family pushed us to get hitched, but we were having too much fun and the years passed. As we grew older, age forced us to settle down and we started to enjoy some of the simpler things in life, including each other’s company. A portrait of Dad watches over us now. Life is funny that way and it’s just how it turned out for the two of us.

  One of my orders was in, so I walked over to the general store to retrieve it. I needed the yarn to work on a sweater I was making for my nephew stationed in Germany. Freddie was attentive as usual and went in back to get my package, so I waited by strolling the aisles to search for anything new or on sale. Ginger, Ida, and Bones came in with a burst of energy. Ginger said, “Good afternoon, Edith. Nice to see you today.”


  I put down the pregnancy test. “Nice to see you too.”

  Ida blurted out, “You expecting?”

  I huffed at her silliness. “At my age? Heavens no. We didn’t have things like this when I was young. And it was on sale. I was curious, just checking it out.” I noted Bones blushing.

  Ginger said, “Let’s please change the subject, if I can. We’re checking around for information and spotted you in here, thought you might help us. We need to learn about a woman named Erin Byrnes. You ever hear that name?”

  I blinked a few times. “No, I don’t think so. Maybe Lily has. She knows the lineage of the townsfolk better than me.”

  Freddie Warner came out of the stock room with my package and said, “Well hello. When did the crowd show up?”

  Ida answered, “Hello Freddie, we’re not shopping. Sorry. We’re poking around town asking about an Erin Byrnes. You ever hear that name?”

  Freddie replied, “No, not Erin. But Byrnes was a family way back when that helped to start this town. Just after the civil war ended”

  That tweaked my memory. “Ya know, I think I have heard Lily talk about the civil war and the Byrnes name, now that you say that.”

  Ginger asked, “Did they have anything to do with the tavern?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Why do you ask, dear?”

  Ginger sighed, then answered. “Something strange happened yesterday. A locket with the name Erin Byrnes inscribed on the back made the grumpy chicken act up. Star says it was because the locket is part of a message other spirits are trying to communicate to us and it worried the grumper.”

  “Dang! Lily and I missed it. We decided to stay in yesterday.” The chicken spirit could be spooky, but it was so exhilarating to experience its presence. Lily would be upset, too, for missing the excitement.

  Ginger added, “It was pretty empty in the pub when it happened, so just about everyone missed it. Don’t feel bad.”

  I said, “Ya know, speaking of the Civil War, I’ve heard all kinds of ghost stories associated with the war. And you do have a ghost chicken.”

  Ida laughed. “That’s a thin connection.”

  I persisted. “But when did the pub start? Just after the war, right?”

  Ginger nodded. “Yes, I believe so.”

  Bones was antsy and burst. “Well, what kind of ghost stories were told during the war? Anything like the grumpy chicken?”

  I snickered. “No. I don’t know any chicken ghosts from the civil war. But weird things happened all the time back then.”

  Freddie cut in, “Edith, tell them about Shiloh. That story always spooked me as a kid.”

  I took a deep breath. “Well, during the Battle of Shiloh, thousands of soldiers were injured and left lying in mud for days. While waiting for help, some of the injured noticed that many of the wounds glowed green in the dark. And even more strange, when they were finally taken to the sorely lacking field hospitals, those who had green glowing wounds had better survival rates. So the troops starting calling the event “Angels’ Glow.”

  Bones shivered. “Angels' Glow, that’s so creepy. That can’t be true.”

  “I can check that out easy enough. Let’s see what the internet has to say.” Ida took her phone out and did a quick search.

  Ginger said, “So that’s interesting, but Shiloh is in Tennessee. This is Georgia.”

  Ida popped, “Well, seems that there is lots of stuff about Angels’ Glow at Shiloh. It really happened.”

  I laughed. “I told you. You’re all too young to know most of them, but, there are all kinds of ghost stories from the Civil War. And Ginger, sweetie, Georgia does have its fair share.”

  Freddie added, “I heard that the old cemetery has ghost sightings every now and then, mostly near or on the anniversary of Sherman passing through here on his March to the Sea.”

  I said, “As a little girl, Lily once saw a woman in a long, flowing white night gown at the old church. She was floating in the air and Lily could see straight through her.”

  Ginger’s eye grew, slightly. “That’s kind of a coincidence. Digger found this locket on my Mom’s headstone. That’s the new cemetery, but it’s just across from the old cemetery. And right next to the old church”

  I wondered, “Did you find this locket you mentioned, dear?” Ginger shook her head no, so I asked, “Well who did?”

  “Digger.” Ginger tilted her head back after answering me.

  Freddie asked, “Is there any significance to who found it?”

  “That’s a good question. And Star asked the same question yesterday. Maybe?” Ida put her phone away as she replied.

  Ginger said, “Maybe we should be going. We were actually on our way to town hall when we saw you in here, Edith. Bones here has bravely offered to go see Abbey there, see if she will let us go through some of the archives they have.”

  Freddie scrunched up his face. “Why is that brave of Bones.”

  I laughed. “Did you forget already, Freddie? Bones went on a date with her while living with another girl.”

  Ida chuckled. “Bones proved it’s impossible to date two women at the same time in a small town.”

  Freddie laughed. “I remember now. Didn’t she throw you out for it?”

  Bones hung his head. “Yeah, slept in my car for a week, but we got back together. So it is kind of pushing it for me to go to town hall. But she’s the clerk there and we need to see the archives. And I know Abbey better than anyone else from the pub.”

  Ginger smiled. “Thanks, Edith, Freddie, but we should be off. We need to make the rounds. See ya around.”

  Freddie and I waved goodbye. The trio left with the same burst energy as when they arrived. After the front door closed, tinkling the bell on the door as it did whenever the door moved, Freddie said, “Byrnes was the family that did a lot to get this town established, they should find something in the archives.”

  I smiled at the shopkeeper, “My memory is too frail at seventy-three to remember who started Potter’s Mill, but I’m pretty sure if there is something to find, Ginger will find it. She has proved to be a good detective.”

  Freddie added, “Well, she better be careful. If she is stirring up old history, going back to the war, people may get upset. That was a bad time and changed the lives of everybody for the worse. Some of the town’s families still have hard feelings.”

  “I’m aware, Freddie. And the old arguments over who owes who what, or who owns what lands should be left alone. I agree.”

  Freddie continued, “But if that chicken spook is acting up in her pub, I guess she has no choice.”

  I laughed, “The grumpy chicken does get your attention when she is upset. So Ginger has another mess on her hands. Maybe Lily and I should visit the pub tonight, get the gang together to help her.”

  Freddie wondered, “Why do Y'all like to work together like that?”

  “It’s what we do in a small town. We help each other. And Lily and I love the thrill of sleuthing. Sometimes, it even includes motorcycle rides”

  Freddie smiled at the image of Edith on a motorbike. “I heard about you on the back of Guardrail’s bike that one time. Dog Breath was in here one time, called your group some weird name. Does your group have a name.”

  I laughed. “Oh, pish posh. Since when do you listen to Dog. We’re just a group of friends helping each other.”

  “OK. I’m not being nosy, just wondering. Let me know if I can help ya with anything else and thanks for the order. It is so hard to make a profit with everyone ordering online these days. I appreciate you coming here.”

  “I know and I’m glad to give you my business. But I should go now and catch Lily up on the latest news. Bye for now.”

  I made my way from the general store, jingling the vigilant bell on the door. I sensed pending mayhem and needed to get home quick. The Grumpy Chicken was at the center of another strange mystery. Lily and I would want to partake in the fun.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Piper


  After an early start, Digger and I spied Atlanta’s skyline at ten-thirty a.m. and we made a beeline for my former employer, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. While I currently write news articles for my own paper, The Potter’s Mill Oracle, I had new business with my old editor slash boss. After the Ghost Hounds filmed an episode in The Grumpy Chicken, a larger market for many of my written pieces emerged and contacts at the Atlanta newspaper helped syndicate my stories of the strange events in the pub. The series developed a growing audience, plus recent pub events suggested future narratives were forthcoming. We had plenty to discuss.

  Digger shifted his seat belt and twisted to get comfortable. “Why do you go back to an old workplace so much?”

  “Well, I still have friends there and we keep in touch. And we do some business together. It’s good for both of us.”

  Digger shook his head. “I don’t get big city life. When you quit a job in my book, it’s includes leaving and not going back to do business with them. But oh well.”

  “When we get there, you want to come in, see the press rooms and printing presses?”

  “Sure. Only seen that in a movie.”

  Atlanta was my home for a number of years. After my parents divorced, my Mom left Potter’s Mill but still tried to domineer my life and Dad was a mess, so I decided to move to the big city and work for a real newspaper. It was an exciting time working at the paper and I made a ton of friends. But after a while, newsroom politics and big city life grew stale. Then I started to have an odd compulsion to play Keno and ran up some debt. After six years in the city, I also started to miss my childhood friends, so it was time for me to move back to small-town life, a simpler existence. However, every other month, at times more, I journey back to the metropolis to visit acquaintances and explore some of my favorite spots. This is a compromise that satisfies my need for the culture and energy of a major city without turning my back on my real home, Potter’s Mill. And I don’t have a chance to play Keno and get into more trouble.