Ghosts Beneath Us: A Third Spookie Town Murder Mystery (Spookie Town Murder Mysteries Book 3) by Kathryn Meyer Griffith Read Free Book Online

sighed, “There are no such things as ghosts, Beatrice,” and kept poking around in the wreckage.
    “That’s what you think. Are you in for a surprise if one decides to show himself to you. You just wait.” The old woman went back up the stairs. She didn’t appear too worried about the chaos on the lower floor; considering what the rest of her house looked like, Abigail thought, well, one mess was as good as another .
    Abigail went with her upstairs and the two women waited for Frank to return to the kitchen. When he did, he posed three or four more questions to Beatrice, told her they’d look into it for her best they could but she also needed to call the sheriff’s department, report the harassment and the damage and have them come out to see it themselves, make it official, and she and Frank left.
    The old lady stood in the doorway, doll cradled in her arms, her lined face confused, as they drove away.
    *****
    In the truck once they left the driveway Frank looked at her. “Oh my God, those dolls!” He slowly shook his head. “Those things gave me the creeps. I don’t know why but I could have sworn some of them appeared demonic. I had the urge to sprinkle holy water on them and watch my back with every step. As if when I wasn’t looking they’d lunge after me with a knife.”
    Abigail laughed. “Some of them certainly did look menacing. You know I don’t believe I’ve ever seen that many dolls in one place anywhere before. That woman sure loves her dolls.”
    “That she does.” The steering wheel in Frank’s hands rotated a notch or two. They were on the highway and the day’s light was fading around them. There were crickets and frogs humming on the air, and the scent of spring was everywhere. The normalcy of it made what they’d left behind harder to accept.
    “I think I’ll put a call into the sheriff’s department myself about this. I don’t think we can count on Beatrice to do it, do you?”
    “No I don’t. She seemed so sure it was supernatural she won’t call the sheriff. What do you think about that destruction in the basement? We both know unhappy spirits didn’t do that.” Abigail had her eyes on the windshield as a tiny rock pinged the window. Fortunately the glass didn’t crack.
    “I think she needs to clean it up, for one thing, but I don’t expect she will. I told her to at least get the windows fixed. Told her Luke at the hardware store would come out and put in new windows for a fair price. She said she’d call him.”
    “No, I meant, who or what do you think did it? And why?”
    Frank shrugged. “As you said, not spooks. When we first got there I sort of believed Beatrice had lost a few more of her marbles since I’d seen her last, with the dolls and the hoarding and all, but after seeing that basement,” he paused, “I think someone’s trying to scare her or worse. But for what reason I can’t fathom. Not yet anyway. I’m working on a motive. Got a couple possibilities but nothing that makes any sense at the moment.”
    “Hmm, I also think someone’s trying to scare her and I don’t buy the ghost explanation, either. So what do we do now?”
    “That’s a valid question. All we can do is wait and see what else happens. I gave Beatrice my cellphone number and asked her to call me immediately next time she hears anything weird in her house–anytime–and I’ll zip over and check it out. In the meantime, after further thinking about it, I’m going to visit Sheriff Mearl in person, not just call him; have a chat with him and see if he’ll provide an extra police patrol in Beatrice’s neighborhood, particularly at night. There should be some surveillance on her house for a while.”
    “Sounds like a plan.”
    “What do you make of Beatrice’s story about seeing her husband the ghost?” He drove up in front of her house.
    “I don’t know. Beatrice believes she’s seen a ghost. She isn’t sure it’s her husband. She just wants it to be. It’s not so