4 The Ghost of Christmas (6 page)

Nearby her, within the circle of candles, mist formed in slithering tendrils. She let it happen, let the bridge between this world and the next solidify as she poured her own self into that connection, reaching out for Roger August.

She waited. Nothing happened.

“Roger?” she asked. “Are you there?” No one answered her. She couldn’t get any feel for him at all, which was very unusual. The last time that had happened, it had meant the supposedly dead person she was trying to contact was still alive. She didn’t get the feeling that was the case here, though. There was something else going on. It was like something was blocking her. Keeping her from communicating with Roger’s spirit.

Standing up, stretching, she checked the clock and only then realized that three hours had passed. When she put herself into that state time had no meaning. She could have sat there for a day or more without realizing it, and in truth she had done that once. It was dangerous, to sit there for that long. There was a real risk that her body could die from inattention even as her spirit continued to search for a connection.

A wave of dizziness swept over her and she caught herself against a nearby wall. Smudge looked up at her, his head cocked. “I’m all right, boy. Just need some water.” She collected the candles, snuffing them out in proper order, and then put them away again for next time.

It was when she was heading to the sink for a glass of water that the thought hit her. What if the Santa suit that Katrina had told her about was the same one she had now, the same one that the pageant had used for years now?

She raced back into the living room and picked up the suit. Tentatively she held it out at arm’s length and inspected it closely. It looked old, but there was really no way of knowing for sure if it was the same suit or not.

She closed her eyes and tried to feel for any strange, haunted powers that the suit might be holding. A snap against her fingers startled her into dropping it to the floor. She flexed her hand, feeling foolish. Just a static electric shock. That’s all.

Still, she went and got the candles back out, and formed the circle around the suit with the candles lit. Lighting the candles wasn’t really the smartest thing to do but she didn’t feel like she had any other choice right now. The circle would contain any spirit for the night. Smudge looked up at her and blinked.

“I know,” she said. “It’s foolish and dangerous. But I’m not sleeping in the same house with a possessed Santa suit without some precautions.”

Darcy and her cat stared at each other and then she laughed out loud. This was ridiculous. Feeling silly, she took herself back up to bed.

But, even though it was dangerous, she didn’t blow out the candles. Just in case.

***

The next morning Darcy was at work when Jon stopped by. Nothing had happened overnight, and the suit was right where she had left it when she woke up. She’d stuffed it back into the pack with her Mrs. Claus suit, and tried to put her energy into thinking up a good way to solve this mystery. A way that didn’t involve theories about possessed clothing.

Jon smiled at her. He looked excited.  In his hands he was carrying a large, thin book.

“What’s that?” Darcy asked.

“Well,” he said, obviously proud of himself. “Your boyfriend has been combing through boxes of old files and photos in the basement of the police station. Now, he did this because he loves you, and because he’s sorry he ever made you doubt that. Now. Guess what I found?”

He was so excited he was about to burst and Darcy found herself excited too without even knowing what he was talking about. “So tell me already,” she laughed. 

“Your loving boyfriend, who expects to be rewarded for staying up most of the night going through album after album, found, among hundreds of photographs, a single photograph of your dead man.” Jon dropped the book down onto the counter with a flourish and opened it up to a page marked with a scrap of paper. “In this photo album there were pictures for the old Chief’s retirement party years ago. And here,” he pointed to one of the pictures, “is a picture of Roger.”

Darcy looked at it, understanding Jon’s excitement now. “You really are the best boyfriend in the world.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I am.”

Darcy kissed him on his cheek, but whispered a promise to thank him more later. In the photo stood a very stern looking Roger, and next to him was a female police officer. The photo was labelled, Roger’s name, and then Rose Abbington. Darcy pointed to the woman. “Who is this?”

“I don’t know. A friend of Roger’s, maybe. I’ll ask around when I get to the station today. Somebody may remember.”

“That would be great, Jon. This is one more step closer to finding out who Roger was. If we could find this Rose, and talk to her, she might be able to help.”

Not to mention that Darcy would be able to stop putting protective circles around costumes.

***

Darcy flipped the store’s sign to ‘CLOSED, THE END’ and pulled the front door of the bookstore shut behind her as she left. She hopped on her bike just as Helen began calling for her from the town square. Darcy headed over to her with a smile.

Helen smiled back at her and said, “I just wanted to thank you again for taking over for Santa and Mrs. Claus this year. We need a hundred more volunteers like you and Jon.”

“You’re too kind, Helen.” Darcy debated with herself, but then asked the question anyway. “Say, that suit for Santa looks very old. Do you know how long it’s been used in the pageant?”

“Well I’m not really sure,” Helen said, thoughtfully pursing her lips.  “I know it’s been used for years.  Might even be the original suit the town used back when the pageant first began thirty five years ago.”

A chill ran down Darcy’s spine that had nothing to do with the weather. If the suit had been around that long, then it was the exact same one that Roger had used the day before he was killed. She realized Helen was looking at her oddly as she stood there silent, so she started up a conversation about something else entirely, and then a few minutes later said her goodbyes and headed for home.

As she rode her bike out of town, she couldn’t help but notice the way the mists were rising in the shadows. It was an eerie thing to see in the cold. Sunlight sparkled on the coalescing vapors as they hung low to the ground. The town had been named after this very phenomenon, this mist that was always present here no matter the time of year. Of course, Darcy knew that they came out strongest when something bad was going to happen. Or when danger was coming.

When she made it home, brooding about Santa suits and dead men and how she always managed to get herself caught in the middle of these mysteries, she was a little alarmed to find the door unlocked.

Carefully she let herself in, the smell of cinnamon and apples filling her nose. Jon’s humming reached her from the kitchen. She relaxed. What a wonderful surprise. He must have used the spare key that she kept in the pot plant on the porch to let himself in. She fully expected to get another lecture from Jon some time about it. She had kind of promised him not to keep it in the pot any more. Oh well, couldn’t be helped now.

“Wow. What is that wonderful smell,” she said as she took her coat and hat off.

She stopped to admire Jon’s jeans straining tightly over his perfect butt as he was bending over at the oven, looking at whatever was cooking. He stood up with a smile and moved over to pull her into his arms for a kiss. “I’m cooking an apple pie. It’s something my grandmother always did around the holidays and it helps me feel closer to her.” He hugged Darcy to his body tightly. “I’ve missed you these last few days. Let’s not fight anymore.”

Darcy tensed and he felt it. Pulling back he gave her an intense look. “What’s wrong?” She could feel him tensing up also. Was it always going to be like this between them?

“I have something to share with you, but you’re probably not going to like it. Again.”

He dropped his arms away from her and her heart stopped beating for just a moment, until she realized he wasn’t walking away from her. Instead, he took her hand and led her to the couch in the living room. “Tell me what it is,” he said to her.

She took a deep breath and explained about what happened with Katrina and what she said about the Santa suit. She had expected Jon to play it off with a joke. Or, maybe she had been hoping he would.

“Do you think it’s haunted?” he asked instead.

“No, I don’t think it’s haunted,” she said, a little exasperated. “I’m not even sure that’s possible.”

“But you said you put one of those candle rings around it.”

She knew her cheeks reddened. “Yes. I did. It was silly.”

“All right. Then I’m sure it’s fine,” Jon said. “Besides, who’s ever heard of a haunted Santa suit?”

Chapter Seven

Darcy knew it was very early before she even opened her eyes. The sun wasn’t even up yet. It was the weekend again and she should be sleeping in. She sighed as she thought about all of the work she needed to get done today in time for the pageant that night.

She lay there for a while listening to Jon’s rhythmic breathing. After several minutes she knew that she was too wide awake to try and go back to sleep so she slipped quietly out of bed, dressed and headed down to the kitchen for breakfast. Soon, she had eggs scrambling and bacon frying.

Looking still half asleep Jon shuffled into the kitchen in time for her to scoop eggs onto a plate. “Good morning,” she said to him. He yawned in return, smiling like a little boy.

As they sat down to eat breakfast Darcy reminded him about the pageant that night.

“I’m ready,” he assured her. “Although I will have to check and make sure there aren’t any ghosts inside the Santa suit before I put it on.”

Darcy laughed. She felt relaxed that Jon could joke around about it.

They finished up breakfast and Darcy packed the dishes into the sink while Jon got showered and dressed. He came back out clean and looking good enough that she couldn’t take her eyes off him for a long moment.

When he winked at her she cleared her throat and then said, “You need to meet me in the town square around six o’clock this evening to get into costume.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said cheekily with that grin still firmly planted on his face.

***

Jon drove them into town. She didn’t even bother bringing her bicycle this time because she and Jon were meeting up again for the pageant that evening. In the town square, everyone was hustling about doing last minute preparations. After kissing Jon goodbye so he could stop into the station and ask around about Rose Abbington, Darcy went to the bookstore so she could put the box of costumes somewhere safe. Then she went over to the Bean There Bakery and Café to get a large coffee. She’d need it to get through the day.

When she entered the café she saw Helen sitting at one of the tables frantically flipping through a notebook and scribbling things down. She looked pretty frazzled. Darcy sat down across from her. “Is everything all right?” she asked Helen.

Helen looked up at Darcy with wild eyes. She ran a hand through her graying hair and said, “Oh I’m just stressed about this damn pageant. This is my first year doing it as mayor and I just want everything to go perfectly.”

“Oh, Helen you’ll be fine. You’re one of the most put together women I know.” She saw that bring a little smile to her friend’s face. “So I take it that Mister Baskin’s petition didn’t get anywhere?”

“Oh at least one thing went right and worked out for the town. He didn’t get enough signatures. I’m still surprised at all the signatures he did get, though.” Helen rubbed her eyes. “I’m so tired already and the day has barely begun.”

Darcy smiled at her. “I’ve got the rest of the costumes over at the bookstore. When you’re ready, let me know and you can do your final review of them.” Darcy stood up and placed a comforting hand on Helen’s arm. “Everything is going to go perfectly.”

“Thank you Darcy, I’m not sure what I would do without you.”

***

As soon as Darcy entered the bookstore a chilling, violent wind picked up. It viscously swirled around the store knocking books to the floor, knocking knick knacks over and sending her paper snowflakes flying like they were the real thing.

“Oh for the love of God,” she muttered. Why did this particular ghost have to be accompanied by such a powerful wind every time he wanted to make contact?

Darcy watched as Roger’s spirit materialized out of nowhere.
“I cannot find peace until I know.”

“I need more time,” Darcy said, a little grumpily. What did this ghost expect? She was only human.

Roger ominously held up two fingers and then abruptly disappeared. She didn’t even have time to ask him why she hadn’t been able to communicate with him the other night.

“Hey!” she shouted after his disappearing image. “What did that mean? Was that a threat?” There was no answer, not from beyond the grave. 

Two fingers. Did that mean two days? It would be Christmas in two days and Darcy hoped that she would have solved the mystery by then. Of course, it could have meant two hours or two minutes or two lumps of sugar in his coffee, for all she knew. If ghosts wanted faster results, they could try using a language that the living could understand.

She picked up the fallen books and placed them back on the shelves. Shaking her head she gathered up the costumes and headed over to the town square.

***

Darcy helped Jon into the Santa suit jacket and rearranged the padding for the Santa belly. As he pulled the hat and fluffy white beard on she stepped back to look at him. “You make a pretty convincing Santa,” she said with a wide smile.

He frowned at her as he adjusted the beard. “This thing is itching me already. Exactly how long do I have to wear it for?” She knew he was only pretending to be annoyed as his eyes were twinkling almost as brightly as the little colored lights strung all around the stage area.

“Not long, now don’t be such a grouch.” She nudged him in the ribs and he couldn’t suppress his smile any longer.

The pageant was due to start in about thirty minutes and there was a lot of activity going on behind the stage.