A Shade of Murder Read online

  “Augustus, be serious. Someone was killed,” Mary Jane tutted, and the man continued to chuckle a bit as he wiped an imaginary tear of joy from his eye.

  “Oh please, Mary. Hundreds died here. If it puts a stop to that foolish charade—,” he raved, only to be interrupted by the surly feline.

  “If only it were that easy to end this ridiculous tradition, I would have clawed someone’s eyes out years ago. No, Fern and the forensics team collected all of the evidence from the crime scene, and the owner of the museum decided that the show must go on. He explained it away with the ridiculous notion that they would be paying tribute to good old Norma,” Moody grumbled. Before the spirits could reply, there was a sudden flash of light towards the back of the field. The group exchanged looks, and all eyes fell upon Little Timmy.

  “I guess I’ll go investigate?” The young spirit supplied, receiving a collective nod for his efforts. He sighed a bit, slipping towards the treeline on the edge of the field. The Colonel and Moody resumed their conversation as if nothing had happened, though Mary Jane fretted as she looked in the direction the young man had gone.

  “What’s got your goat, sweet cheeks? It’s not as if he can be killed twice. Such is the wonder of the spirit world,” Moody murmured, circling the woman’s incorporeal ankles from sheer force of habit.

  “It’s just... our grip with the mortal realm is rather tenuous when we return from...,” she trailed off, shaking her head. “It would present the perfect opportunity to be exorcised, or worse, corrupted,” the nurse explained. Moody scoffed, glancing in the direction the other spirit had gone.

  “Like anyone in this Podunk old town would know how to do something like that. Tim-Tom’s fine,” the feline said comfortingly, considering the troubled look on the spirit’s face. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll go check on him. Questionable traits aside, there’s nothing to be exorcised from me,” Moody continued, turning to confidently stride towards the back of the field. She could feel the eyes of the elder spirits watching as she walked with all the confidence in the world... at least, until they were no longer in view of her. Though the feline didn’t consider herself the sort to be easily spooked, something inside of her went cold as she heard the sound of soft weeping in the distance. She paused, focusing her efforts on her superior hearing.

  “There, there. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it...?” Moody heard the familiar voice of Little Timmy inquire soothingly. Emboldened by the fact that the spirit was in one piece—not that she’d had any doubts—she continued her steady trot in the direction his voice had come from. The sinking sensation returned as she realized how close she was getting to the crime scene that had housed a corpse only a few days prior. There was nothing to be concerned about, however, the scene had been wiped absolutely clean for the sake of the reenactment.

  “I don’t understand...,” a soft feminine voice spoke up, and Moody couldn’t shake the sense that it was vaguely familiar as well. The feline darted the final distance, eyes widening as she spotted not one, but two spirits, lingering near the crime scene.

  “Oh wow, this ought to be interesting,” Moody muttered somewhat bitterly, the faint outline of the deceased Norma’s form becoming evident. Little Timmy, for his part, looked utterly bewildered by the turn of events, but Moody supposed she should have expected something as ridiculous would happen.

  “Come on Norma, don’t tell me you’re clinging to this sad excuse for an existence like the other goons in this field,” Moody said harshly, and the female ghost jolted, staring at the cat as if she had grown a second head. Little Timmy glowered at Moody, who only rolled her eyes. “I mean, you kinda have to admit, it’s a little sad,” she pointed out.

  “Well, haunting the battlefield I died on is better than doing tricks for smelly liver treats—,” Little Timmy began, cutting himself short as Norma shot towards the cat. Moody resisted the desire to yowl in fear, holding her ground as she considered the newly formed spirit.

  “You... can talk? Can all cats talk to... to...,” Norma trailed off. Moody tried not to be put off by the steady stream of pitch black tears spilling down Norma’s cheeks, especially when she was seeing them in such close proximity.

  “No. Talking to dead people isn’t a typical talent the rest of my species possesses. Seeing spirits? Well, that’s one thing. But the chit chat and good, old fashioned banter? That’s all the Moody Stuart special,” the feline purred, not seeming concerned with the idea of seeming self absorbed. Norma could only stare at her, blinking slowly as she made an effort to process the situation.

  “Hrm. I always thought you were a creepy little nuisance,” Norma said decisively, and although the sad tremble of her voice had abated, the tears continued to stream.

  “You flatter me,” Moody muttered, glancing up as Mary Jane and Colonel Augustus suddenly appeared on the scene, guns blazing. Well, Moody wasn’t sure whether the ‘ghost’ weapon would accomplish anything, but if it comforted the spirits—more power to them.

  “Sweet mother Mary, is that Norma?” The Colonel blurted, clearly surprising the newly formed spirit.

  “You... know who I am?” She asked gingerly, receiving a sharp laugh in response.

  “Oh, dear woman, of course I know who you are. You were the only one who brought any measure of entertainment to that wretched reenactment. I must say, I wish you would have sought my permission before deciding to stomp my personal stomping grounds, as it were...,” the Colonel trailed off, and Norma raised a brow.

  “I’m not even sure this is reality, or just some really sick dream,” she pointed out.

  “Dreamscapes can be pretty weird,” Moody mused amicably, licking her paw. “But this is the real deal, friend,” she added with a casual air.

  “You seem strangely okay with this. I’m dead. I died. I was murdered by... well, I was murdered. I don’t even know why I got dumped out on this battlefield. I thought there would be some... walking into the light, I suppose. There was no light. Everything was just dark,” Norma ranted, throwing her hands up in frustration.

  “No light...?” Little Timmy asked gently, resting a hand on Norma’s shoulder. She glanced towards him, shrugging off his hand.

  “Ghost or not, I have morals. What are you, twelve? And no, there wasn’t a light. I guess all those bible studies were wasted,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. Little Timmy looked taken aback, his voice cracking as he indignantly replied.

  “I’m sixteen, thank you!” He blurted, though Norma only rolled her eyes.

  “Enough! We need to get to the bottom of this. She should have crossed over!” Mary Jane said urgently, glancing towards the Colonel for confirmation.

  “Right... Right, of course. Not seeing the light is strange, but I’ve experienced it once before,” the older man muttered. “Not personally, of course. You would be surprised by the sorts of things that took place before this museum was even built. To make a long story short, the absence of light when one dies... well, it generally points to some sort of unfinished business,” he explained carefully, and Norma’s eyes widened visibly. Moody made a sound of disinterest, busying with grooming herself.

  “Makes sense, I guess. Maybe it’s because you want to see your killer brought to justice,” the feline suggested idly. Norma scoffed, although Moody refused to look her in the face. The cat was, frankly, a bit creeped out by the newly formed spirit’s appearance.

  “That’s not it,” Norma said sourly, receiving a noncommittal grunt in response.

  “Well, Mazie has been a bit preoccupied with the whole... reenactment, but I’m sure she would be interested in the fact that a new spirit has made an appearance,” Moody mused aloud.

  “What good is the tour guide going to do?” Norma pressed, but Mary Jane spoke up as well.

  “Be sure Fern comes along as well, Moody! I’m sure there’s a lot she could glean from Norma’s story,” the older spirit said cheerfully.

  “Excuse me!? What do the Stuart sis
ters have to do with any of this?” Norma said more loudly, getting the attention of the group gathered around her.

  “Oh, you know. Fern is trying to solve your case, and Mazie is always sticking her nose in the situation. Who better to catch the culprit than a couple of witches, right?” Moody said with a small smile, already darting off the scene. Moody could feel eyes upon her, and could just scarcely make out a single bewildered word as she strode away.

  “...Witches?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When an unfamiliar weight settled on my chest sometime in the early hours of the morning, my sleep addled mind idly wondered if some demon had come to suck my soul out through my nostrils. A strange thought to have had, I know, and even stranger for it to be a lingering fear of mine. Just the same, I was sure that struggling would only make the situation worse, so with a stillness I had no idea I was capable of, I blinked an eye open. Scrutinizing green eyes peered into my own, and I inhaled a sharp breath before realizing that I recognized that demonic stare—and demonic is right!

  “Moody,” I grumbled, turning on my side and pulling the pillow over my head. The feline chuckled, seeming unbothered by my lack of enthusiasm. “Why aren’t you bugging Fern? She’s probably having coffee or something, go beg for a liver treat,” I continued, my voice muffled by the pillow.

  “As tempting as that sounds, I thought you would enjoy being the first to receive the intel,” Moody said with a casual air of disinterest. I grumbled unhappily, fully aware that the feline was probably just looking to have a bit of entertainment at my expense. She stretched out across my side, her weight making it a bit difficult to get a proper lungful of breath. “Aren’t you curious? It’s very interesting,” she continued, beginning to groom herself while strewn across me.

  “Ugh!” I grunted, removing the pillow from my head and glowering. Moody considered me from the corner of her eye, grinning much like the cat who got the canary.

  “What is it? What absolutely could not wait until a reasonable hour of day?” I drawled, too tired to be actively angry. Moody snickered, dragging herself off of my side and stretching languidly.

  “If you’d like me to come back later...,” she purred, moving to hop off the bed.

  “Come on. I’m awake now, I might as well know what’s going on,” I sighed, sitting upright in bed and brushing a hand through my hair. Moody paused, obviously for dramatic effect, before looking at me with a frown.

  “Do a drum roll,” she insisted. I stared blankly at the feline, making no move to oblige. “Come on, Mazie. Not an actual drum, you’d need talent for that. Just... make the noise, come on,” she whined. In spite of being forced awake at such an early hour, I found it within me to humor her. Making a lackluster drum roll sound, I waited for what I was sure would be disappointing news.

  “Norma’s a ghost and is haunting the battlefield,” she crowed excitedly, and I’m sure if she had the funds, there would be confetti and balloons. The actual words struck me rather belatedly, and I nearly choked on my own saliva. Moody looked all too pleased with herself, and I barely resisted the desire to reach out and strangle her.

  “Are you serious!? That’s not good news. Fern is going to be devastated. This whole thing has been really hard on her,” I hissed, though Moody only rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, maybe I’m just being silly. I was under the impression you and Fern wanted to solve this murder,” Moody said snarkily. I groaned, burying my face in my hands as I tried to figure out how to approach the situation. This wasn’t just a crisis, this was a plethora of crises. If the murder weren’t enough, the fact that Norma’s spirit was lingering made it obvious that the situation was worse than I expected (or perhaps about as awful as Fern feared). To make matters worse, I had no idea what would keep the old biddy tied to the mortal realm. At the very least, Moody had a point as far as solving the murder. Who better to tell us the culprit than the very person who had been killed?

  “Well, okay. Maybe there’s a way we can gently break the news to Fern,” I sighed, shuffling out of bed. Moody hopped down, slinking through the door to my room as I took a moment to lay out my work uniform. A shower to clear my mind would potentially make this situation easier to deal with. Then, after getting dressed, I could calmly explain the situation to my sister, and we’d make our way to the museum to deal with—

  “A ghost!?” Fern’s scream echoed through the house, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed for a week or so. I heard footsteps banging up the stairs, glancing towards the door where Fern—still clad in pajamas, was clutching her car keys. She opened and closed her mouth for several moments, and I exhaled a sigh.

  “I know. I know. Moody already told me. Can I at least get dressed before we go out on our newest ghost adventure?” I pleaded. Fern frowned, gesturing wildly. She seemed unable to form words, so I gave her a moment to regain her composure.

  “Mom called after you went to bed last night. Apparently George has been acting... really erratic. He says he feels guilty about all he did to Norma. I asked her to clarify, and she just brushed it off as being upset about the argument,” Fern ranted, her keys jangling as she threw her hands up.

  “To add to the festering pile, The Sheriff has been speaking to the brother to get an idea of the time line. Apparently Todd was in town the night it happened, having drinks with some of the reenactment actors. According to some of the others, he and Billie Jean really hit it off,” she paused, a sound of frustration escaping her. “Is she trying to get close to him to make herself seem an unlikely suspect? Is George crazier than even we gave him credit for?” She asked desperately, though I knew she didn’t expect an answer.

  I wondered if she had even heard my comment about getting dressed, but after a moment, she dragged a hand down her face and growled. “Anyway, we’re going now. From what Moody said, she has some form of unfinished business. I doubt seeing us in our matching teddy bear pajamas is going to be of consequence to her,” she muttered, waiting for me to fall into step beside her as we descended the stairs.

  “Why don’t you just... ask her? Who killed her?” I asked gently, causing my sister to shudder unhappily.

  “She’s probably already reliving the moment over and over. I hate to deepen the wound,” she muttered. I rolled my eyes, giving my sister a slight nudge.

  “Priorities, Fern. We promised Todd that we would solve his sister’s murder. And if you don’t ask her what happened, her managing to cross over will be nearly impossible,” I pointed out, smiling gently as she pouted at me. “Come on. I’m not happy that Norma’s suffering is being prolonged, but we need to take advantage of the situation as much as we can. At least you can get some idea of what leads to follow, what evidence to prioritize with the forensics team,” I continued, grabbing Fern by the hand and swinging our arms even as we stepped into the cold morning air. She smiled weakly, and I smothered a yawn as I held out a hand for the keys. “Now, you’re probably not in any shape to drive. I’ll get us there,” I offered.

  “Oh, please. At least I have some measure of caffeine in my system. I’m not as hysterical as I thought I would be, anyway,” she replied, nudging me to the passenger side of the car before sliding into the driver’s seat herself. Moody hopped in just before she shut the door, settling on the center console with an air of excitement. “You could at least seem a little less excited, Moodster,” she mumbled, and in short order, we were on our way to the museum. I could only wonder what dealing with Norma’s spirit would entail, especially considering what a pain she had been when she was alive. Perhaps it was unkind to speak—well, think, ill of the dead. I comforted myself with the thought that I wasn’t the only person annoyed by her abrasive personality. Her brother had told us she had trouble making friends, and I could definitely see that. The fact that she even talked about us to the young man made a vague sensation of grief wash over me.

  “Do you think I should have just given her the nurse role? I mean, would it have really hurt anything?” I aske
d quietly, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.

  “I mean, ultimately, I doubt that would have changed her fate. It might have made her feel better for a day or so, but... I imagine death sort of puts things in perspective,” she replied, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “Or maybe we’ll get lucky, and hearing that she would have gotten the role is just what she needs to hear to cross over,” she said with a chagrined smile, and I couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. “Sorry. It’s just... I am upset over the idea of her lingering, I genuinely am, but... at least I can ask her what caused her such devastation. I’m sure it would have haunted me...” she trailed off, and I felt terrible when I immediately erupted into giggles.

  “Not as literally as it seems to be now, I’m sure,” I teased. She made a face, and I realized belatedly we had pulled into the parking lot of the museum. “So... I guess we’re going to talk to Norma’s ghost. You sure you can handle this?” I asked gently. She inhaled deeply, breathing a sigh before pushing the door open.

  “I think so. I mean, it’s not like I have a choice. Like you said, I promised Todd that I would solve this whole thing. Maybe, in the end, Norma just wants her brother to find peace with the situation,” she hummed.

  “Before we go—,” I said abruptly, taking her by the arm. She paused, considering me with a raised brow. “We’re pretty much in a lose-lose situation here. Billie Jean is a friend and George... well George is dating our mom. I can’t imagine anyone else would have a motive, and... what are we going to do? I know you have your job, but... what if it really is George? Where do we go from there?” I asked nervously. Fern gave pause, tilting her head a bit curiously.

  “Well, he’ll go to jail and we’ll never have to deal with him again. We’ll thank our lucky stars that mom...,” Fern trailed off, looking forlorn. “Well, thank goodness mom is here with us. I just realized the reenactment is really soon, but we’ve scarcely spent any time with her. Regardless of what happens, this whole thing with Todd and Norma... it’s just shown me that nothing is permanent. Even the things that mean the most to us,” she murmured, resting her hand atop my own. We were silent for a moment, contemplating how our future might play out. However, the tension in the car dissipated when Moody burped loudly, nudging her way into Fern’s lap to paw at the door.