Empty Promises and Crowded Caskets Read online

  Grammie pulled the bread out of the warming oven, and I was overcome with the smells of home. She ladled two bowls of chowder, sliced and plated the bread, and placed one of each in front of me.

  “Is his daughter and her family in town?” I asked.

  “Yes, Angela and her family are currently at the Smith home. They are having the body laid out with visitors milling about the house. It is an old-fashioned tradition, but he wanted to do this as he would be the last of his family who could,” Grammie explained.

  “I heard about it. Nikki and Mel were going. I am picking them up after I get ready,” I said.

  “That doesn’t give us much time to talk, but it’s okay. If you're not ready to talk about what happened…” she started.

  “No, I am,” I said, “It's not hard to talk about, maybe because it's so hard for me to believe. I’m still in shock. Even now, I don't understand how what happened, actually happened.”

  "Well, start at the beginning. Then, take it one step at a time," she said.

  “First, I have to tell you something you aren’t going to like. I have been working very hard lately in an area that has some risk.”

  “What do you mean? What kind of risk?” Grammie asked.

  “Risky risks, you know, risks,” I babbled, then blurted it all out at once, “I’ve been sourcing a mob informant to put together a crime piece for the Gazette so I can get my byline in the paper on a more permanent schedule, instead of always being in the pool of those who sometimes get a few measly inches of space.”

  Grammie said nothing. Her spoon had stopped midair halfway to her mouth, but she said nothing. She closed her eyes, took a breath and continued to eat.

  “Anyway, I went into work late this morning. I had some sourcing information to clear first. When I got there, I was called into my editor's office. Tony was already there,” I said.

  I played with the crackers in my chowder as I always did. It was good, Grammie always makes good chowder. It is the best kind of comfort food for a New Englander.

  "My editor had this wide grin on his face, and I thought I was going to be let in on a joke. But no, the joke was on me. Tony took all my notes, he wrote up the article using my sources and told our editor we had decided to collaborate. Or so I thought, it was only afterward I found out our editor was in on it."

  "After what, exactly?" Grammie said, peering over a spoonful of chowder.

  "After I blew up at Tony," I said. "Then I blew up at both of them. I could not believe they would violate my work. Then, my editor said that the only way a woman could have a byline on the crime beat would be if I had a male partner. So, wasn’t it fantastic that Tony wanted to share with me? Argh!"

  “I can see now why you were so angry when you called,” Grammy said.

  We finished our meal. I took the plates to the sink to rinse them and she got up sliced the pie. She handed me a piece as we both sat back down.

  “Yeah well, it got a little more heated after that,” I said.

  “Oh?” Grammy asked.

  “That's when I told them where they could stick that byline.”

  “I understand. I might have said the same thing had I been in a similar position,” she said patting my hand. “It will be good for you to take some time out, think through your next steps. You could even think of it as an adventure. You have your whole future in front of you.”

  An adventure? I'm still not sure I can wrap my head around the fact that I just quit my dream job. She was right about one thing. I need to take some time out.

  “Did Tony agree to the break as well?” Grammie asked.

  “I don’t know if he agreed or not. Not sure what he thinks matters at this point. Not to me anyway. I can’t be with someone who will use me to get further in his career. It’s one thing to work together, and it is the complete opposite to take from your partner,” I said.

  “He isn’t the right one for you,” she said. To her, it was that simple. “I am going to finish getting ready for the service and go meet some ladies from the quilt guild. I will see you there?”

  “Yes, I will see you there. Thanks, Grammie.”

  “For what dear?”

  “For being here for me and for the amazing food. And not getting upset about the story I was working on,” I said.

  “You don’t have to thank me for being here, Libby. I’m your family. I love you. As for the other thing, I figure I have plenty of time to decide when the best time is to say my piece.” She smiled, kissed the top of my head, and left the room.

  My grandmother was a formidable woman, and she had a point: I needed a break. She was giving me one.

  And taking a break is what I'm going to do!

  But first I better warn my source that there might be a story coming out. I got out my phone and texted a quick message:

  Heads up, the paper may run a few things that I didn’t approve.

  I didn’t expect a message back today, if at all. I wanted him to know what could be coming before it does.

  The story couldn’t be too bad. There wasn’t that much private information in the notes they took. Most of that is on my phone or backed up on a hidden flash drive. Tony didn’t know about those.

  If I think about it, I am looking forward to the story coming out. They will have to print some hardcore stuff - the stuff they must prove. Some stuff they will have to talk to law enforcement about, some that was never corroborated. Without the rest of my sourced information, they won’t get too far and could be sued for slander. Wouldn’t that be nice?

  Thinking through the next month, I had enough money to be okay without having to go into my trust fund. I hated the thought of going into my trust fund for anything. By staying at Grammie, I’ll be able to keep expenses low. But I should start looking for some freelance work within a few weeks if I don’t find something else.

  For now, I will pick up my girlfriends and put this miserable day behind me. Time to relax and enjoy the company of people I love and trust, even if all we are doing is going to a memorial service to celebrate someone who has died.

  At least nothing worse could happen, right?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  There are only a few roads in Black Ridge Cove, but they wind around the town hitting every tree filled corner breaking out to see the edge of the lighthouses which call out to the ships in the ocean keeping them off our ridge. The Smith home sat on one of the highest points of our town, not far from one of the lighthouses.

  I pulled into the U-shaped driveway of the Smith home. The three-story house sat a quarter of a mile back from the road, its driveway lined with pine trees and at the moment, cars. It was a beautiful house, and I hoped it wouldn't go empty and deteriorate now that no one from the family lived in town. Unfortunately, that's just what happens to big old homes in small towns in Maine these days.

  While there was no line of cars to get to the home, there were some starting to line up to get out of the driveway and on to the road. As I got closer to the house, I noted a couple of interesting figures on the wrap-around porch. One was a young woman in a dress that looked to be from the 19th century. She was looking out over the lawn toward the road. She resembled a hologram, shimmering in and out of focus. But the second figure took my breath away. It was the same ghost from the carriage house, leather jacket and all, except now he seemed in control as if someone clued him into his current status of not among the living.

  I did my best to ignore both as I wasn’t interested in their path to wherever they needed to go. I told myself that I am here to pick up my friends. If I concern myself with every ghost I see in town, I’m going to be too exhausted to take part in the life I was currently living.

  I stopped in front of the house and caught the look on the hoodlum ghost. He looked frustrated trying to open the door and seemed to be unable to walk through it into the house. But the young lady ghost turned and with tears in her eyes, walked past him right through the door. I don’t think he could see her as he didn’t react or stop
trying to open it.

  All of a sudden the door opened, Mel and Nikki ran out. The ghost tried to walk through the open space into the house but was unable to do so. He had my full attention now, although he didn’t know it. He began to have a fit, right there on the porch amid everyone who could not see him. But he had moved to a spot where no people were standing. I wondered why he hadn’t developed the ability to not worry about the living around him because they are unable to see him. I feel most ghosts gain this ability at some point or they act like they have it. Just something I’ve gleaned over the years of observing spirits.

  My friends hopped in the vehicle, Nikki to the right of me, Mel in the back. The second Nikki clicked her seatbelt, she turned to Mel and said, "I can't believe you left that in there! It smelled so bad, everyone in the next room cleared out."

  "No one is going to find out it was us. They'll think it's a dead mouse or something," Mel said wearing her colorful fleece unicorn hat. The mane of the hat was done in purples and matched Mel’s lipstick and current hair color of lilac. They were both dressed in black, with Nikki wearing a suit with a ruffled white top and a wool overcoat that had leather trim. She had her raven colored hair up, neatly as opposed to the messy buns she usually sports. She looked chic and made me feel dowdy in my simple black skirt, white sweater, and a gray wool coat. But, I was wearing a stylish black, and gray scarf with rose gold threads weaved in. Yay, me! I’ll take small fashion victories wherever I can get them.

  “What are we talking about?” I asked.

  “Mel put a spell on the house,” Nikki said, exasperated.

  “It was not a spell,” Mel began to explain. She stopped because the house blew up in a loud explosion. Not the whole house, although the sound could lead you to believe it was. Just one of the rooms on the first floor towards the back right-hand side of the house seemed to be affected. As far as we could see, looking out the back of my vehicle one of the side windows had been blown out, and smoke was billowing out of it. People were running out of the house, off the porch and onto the front drive. Snow kept them from moving further away, but I believe they would have braved the few inches we currently had on the ground if there was another explosion.

  “What was in the spell thing you put in the wall?” Nikki pointedly asked Mel.

  “Nothing that could do that,” Mel said, her eyes big as saucers. “It was just cumin, garlic, sage, and a few other simple ingredients. Plus, that looks like the kitchen. No where near where I stuck the charm. What do you think, Nikki? What could've gone wrong in the kitchen?”

  "Maybe the caterers used one of the old appliances? I hope I'm not seeing my dreams go up in smoke," she said.

  “Dreams up in smoke? Explain.”

  “Nikki wants to buy the Smith house and turn it into a spa,” said Mel. “That is why I charmed it, to get rid of any bad vibes before she purchases. Old houses can be full of all kinds of things.”

  “Should get you a discount on the place,” I said.

  “There is that,” Nikki agreed.

  As I waited in line in the driveway, I watched the crowd come out of the house. There were a lot of people paying their respects, including John Smith’s daughter and family. Then, some others who caught my eye. "Is that the family that moved into the old Reynold’s mansion last year?" I asked.

  "Yeah that’s some of them," said Nikki, "The dad, his two sons and his daughter. Her husband was here too, but I don’t see him."

  “The sons are good-looking if you’re into the tall, dark and handsome type,” Mel giggled poking Nikki in the back.

  “The older one, Lorenzo, is named after his dad. I don’t have a read on him because he is hardly ever in town. Goes back and forth to Boston on family business. Mario runs the restaurant in town. He comes into the bar some nights. Seems okay,” Nikki said.

  “He has a crush on Nikki,” Mel said in her a-matter-of-fact tone, which means she felt it and as an Empath, she knows it to be true. As her longtime friends, we know the things she says to be true as well.

  “I’m not interested. I have plans and things to do that do not include being involved with anyone,” said Nikki. “I am going to buy this house, as long as it doesn’t burn down, and start my spa business.”

  I had heard about the Romano family in the Boston crime circles. While they were not part of my current investigations, they were thought to be on the fringes of mafia involvement. Lorenzo Romano, Sr., was considered a force to be reckoned with at one time. Currently, he was pushed out and forced to move to Maine by the Vena family head, Victor, who has a vendetta against Romano, according to what she had found out. Maybe she could do some digging there and see what she turned up.

  I continued to wait in the line of cars going out in front of us while they watched the house. As we got to the end of the line and we’re about to pull out on the road, we heard the fire engine sirens.

  “It’s about time,” Nikki said. “You’re positive nothing you put in that charm could have blown up?”

  “Honestly no!” Mel said shaking her head, "it was a simple little spell to eject all bad mojo from the dwelling… and keep anyone from taking it from you."

  I thought about the hoodlum ghost that couldn’t get in and all the people who poured out of the place right after the explosion.

  "It worked," I said.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Since we had forty-five minutes to kill before we were expected at the memorial service, Nikki, Mel, and I decided to stop at the Shady Pines Bar on the edge of town. This is an activity that we often did, as Nikki’s father used to own it. He went missing years ago and is presumed dead. Currently, both Nikki and her brother, Neal, own the bar and it’s accompanying rental properties. But, Nikki is looking to allow her brother to buy her out so she can purchase another property in town to start a day spa.

  It took all of five minutes to get to the town watering hole from the Smith house. We were still talking about the explosion when we walked in and sat at the highly polished wood bar. As Nikki still had the run of the place, she left to take her files into the office. I had a sneaking suspicion she was going to make a note to call the real estate agent while she was there. Hopefully, whatever had blown up at the Smith house didn’t do too much damage.

  “What’s all the commotion about?” Neal came up and asked.

  “Mel blew up the Smith house,” Nikki said rejoining our little party.

  “How did you do that, Mel?” Neal asked her, knowing instinctively Nikki was teasing her.

  “I put a little spell on it, but I really don’t think that’s what blew it up,” Mel said staring daggers at Nikki.

  “So, it did get blown up?” a confused Neal asked.

  “Not the whole house, thank goodness. But yeah, something happened in the kitchen right after we had left,” Nikki said.

  He whistled and shook his head, pointing at each of us, “There’s never a dull moment with you three. What can I get you?” While he was asking the three of us, he was looking at Mel. For an Empath, I thought, she always missed the signals with him.

  “I think we better have coffee, so we stay awake during the service,” I said.

  “Good idea, I’ll brew it up fresh,” he said grabbing the pot. “I’ll have it to you in a few minutes.”

  He left to put on a pot of fresh coffee and take care of some new customers. As soon as he was out of hearing distance, my friends decided that they had waited long enough for an explanation of what was happening in my life and why I was back in town.

  “So, what is going on Libby? We are happy that you are here, but we would like to know why and for how long,” Nikki said trying to sound interested and not worried. She didn’t quite pull it off.

  I love that my best friends had my back, and they were interested in what was going on in my life, but I had not prepared for the emotional backlash I felt when I explained to them about Tony. I can’t be sure it was him I was upset about. I thought it was more what he represented in this part o
f my life as he was my first real relationship outside of Black Ridge Cove. Something that was all mine and private, it didn't happen because my grandparents allowed it. Was I going to lose the privacy I so valued by coming back to my hometown? It had to be that because he wasn’t who I thought he was.

  “Why didn’t you knock some sense into him before you left? Do you have an in with the mob family you covered in the paper? Couldn’t they break his knees or something?” Nikki asked.

  “I wasn’t thinking, just doing. I wanted to get out of there. And no, I never did have an in with the mob,” I said.

  “You know I do not dabble in dark arts, Libby, but I would be willing to send him a few warts,” Mel said.