A Ghost to Die For by Elizabeth Eagan-Cox Read Free Book Online

Greg Winslow and he said he’d send a courier over to pick up the materials. At three in the afternoon the courier rang the door. I answered with the portfolio in hand. The transaction was quick, the courier signed for acceptance of the materials, and I gave him a friendly good-bye and a monetary tip. After shutting the door, I stood in the foyer and looked around. Atlas had disappeared and it was not like him to so readily leave my side. I suspected he was padding about in the kitchen but before I could take more than a few steps in that direction, he came trotting through the kitchen’s swing door, and padded up to me. There was no mistaking what Atlas had in mind. He had his leash in his mouth. He stood gazing at me, tail gently wagging back and forth.
    “So, you’re so big that you can now take yourself for a walk? All I need do is attach the leash to your collar and let you hold the handle in your mouth?”
    He dropped the leash on the floor and then with his right forepaw he shuffled it toward me.
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get the hint. Okay big guy, let me grab the house key and we’ll take a walk.”
    Within two shakes of an Irish Wolfhound’s tail we were out the door and strolling down the sidewalk. When a hundred-and-ten pound petite woman walks with an Irish Wolfhound in tow, looks follow and comments pour in. Within two blocks I had received more than my fair share of silly observations, such as, hey little lady, why don’t you put a saddle on that dog and ride him. Truth be told, Atlas never tired of the gawking and was always polite in letting strangers pet him. And even more truth to be told, I did get tired of it. So, after ten minutes, we turned down one of the insider streets, the avenues that locals use, in order to avoid public traffic. Walking at a leisurely pace on these quiet streets we made contact with neighbors who knew us. We would stop and chat over little picket fences and since this was a regular walking route for us, Atlas had the occasional treat to look forward to. Such was the scenario as we approached the Van Wyck home, where Otis Van Wyck was out in the front trimming rose bushes. Atlas moseyed to a halt. Otis set down his pruning shears and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small dog biscuit and unobtrusively gave it to Atlas.
    “Afternoon Shannon, and you too, Atlas. How are you two today?”
    “Just fine. We finished up an assignment and Atlas, here, insisted on taking me out for a walk.”
    Otis chuckled at my comment and patted Atlas on his head. “Yep. Dogs are mighty good at making sure their owners get exercise and the social mingling they need.”
    “Atlas is good at providing comic relief, too. He fetched his own leash and brought it to me in his mouth. I thought he was trying to convince me that he could take himself for a stroll. I see you’re tidying up your garden, I hope the roses aren’t more trouble than they are beautiful?”
    “Beauty often comes with a price. But these lovelies are well worth it, thorns and all. Wish I could say that about all flowers. Harriet just loves her moonflowers that are underneath our bedroom window. They do put out a heady fragrance on summer nights when they are in full bloom. But this time of year, after they go to seed, the darn seed pods are troublesome.”
    “Oh, why is that?”
    “Well if I don’t get to them just at the right time, the pods crack open and spill the seeds everywhere. They’re quite toxic to humans and animals alike. We worry about our young grandchildren accidentally getting into them. It doesn’t take much more than a breeze to scatter the seeds.”
    “Otis, wouldn’t it be worth having some peace of mind to pull up the moonflowers?”
    He winked at me and said, “I reckon it would be, to me. But, Harriet so loves them.”
    “Are the seeds ready to be picked up, if so, I can help. Really, I’m glad to.”
    “All done for this year. But, I’ll take you up on that offer for next