A Passion for Haunted Fashion Read online

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest, partially blocking my outfit from view. “The past has a lot of great fashion to offer that we should never forget.”

  “Yes, and a lot of bad too. Bell bottoms, polyester, leg warmers.” Charlotte shuddered as she ticked them off on her fingers.

  I couldn’t argue with her on that.

  “Leg warmers sound nice. Legs can get cold; although I have to admit I have no idea what they are,” Peggy said.

  “Be thankful for that,” Charlotte said.

  Peggy was chewing bubble gum. That must have been some seriously old gum.

  She popped a bubble. “So what’s the play about?”

  “Well, it’s set in the 1950s.”

  She pulled out the gum, twisted it around her finger, and said, “Oh wow, that’s my time.”

  “That’s disgusting.” Charlotte pointed to Peggy’s finger.

  Peggy shoved the gum back into her mouth.

  “I bet you’d like the play,” I said.

  “So that’s why you were looking through my trunk?” Peggy pointed. “You can use some of the clothes if you’d like.”

  “Like Cookie wouldn’t have anyway,” Charlotte said under her breath.

  Peggy walked over to the trunk. “Open it up and I can help you with the costumes. What do you need?”

  “Oh dear,” Charlotte said.

  Peggy didn’t notice Charlotte’s sarcasm.

  “Well, I’m not sure exactly. I suppose dresses would be nice. I like the red one. That would be nice for Maggie to wear in the end scene.”

  Charlotte moved closer to Peggy. Charlotte was taller than Peggy, especially with her high heels, so she was towering over her. “So, Peggy, can you tell us why you are here?”

  Peggy turned her back to us and walked across the room. Was she leaving?

  Once she was back in the doorway, she turned to face us again. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

  It looked as if she had tears in her eyes.

  Charlotte and I exchanged a look.

  “That’s not good,” I said, moving closer. “Is there anything we can do?”

  Peggy slumped her shoulders. “I wish I knew.”

  Charlotte quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me.”

  Peggy stood a little straighter. “Hey, maybe you can help me figure out why I’m here. The last thing I remember is from 1956. I bet that’s when I died.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” I placed one of the dresses back into the trunk.

  Peggy looked at Charlotte. “You’re a ghost, right?”

  Charlotte studied her fingernails. “No, I just like hanging around being see-through.”

  Peggy smirked and turned her attention back to me. “Did you help her find out why she’s a ghost?”

  “Well, yes, I did, but . . .”

  Peggy had a bounce in her step as she crossed the room. “Good. You can help me.”

  Yes, I suppose it was now my fate in life to help the ghosts. I didn’t mind really. After all, I would want someone to do the same for me.

  “Okay, I’ll help, but you’ll have to tell me what you remember about your last day alive.”

  Peggy frowned. “I don’t remember anything.”

  “Nothing?” Charlotte quirked an eyebrow again.

  Peggy tossed her hands up. “No. It’s as if I have amnesia.”

  “I’ve heard about that happening,” I said. “Ghosts lose their memory. In fact, Charlotte couldn’t remember a lot of things.”

  Charlotte scowled, as if I wasn’t supposed to mention any imperfection she ever had.

  I’d read about it in a book too. One that I’d borrowed from my best friend’s occult shop. A medium had written about the ghosts that she had interacted with, and some of them couldn’t remember a thing. It would be a good thing if I could help Peggy finally bring back all her memories.

  “This is so nice of you. Thank you so much,” Peggy said.

  When she looked at me with her big brown eyes and said such sweet things, how could I refuse?

  “Yes, I suppose I could help you,” I said.

  “As if there was ever any doubt,” Charlotte said.

  A scream rang out and we froze.

  Chapter 3

  Charlotte’s Tips for a Fabulous Afterlife

  Avoid the bad spirits. Don’t talk to them, period.

  Need I say more?

  “What was that?” Charlotte asked, clutching her chest. “This is a wild bunch around here. Haven’t they learned how to act in public?”

  “I don’t know what happened, but I need to find out.” I ran for the stairs with the ghosts following close behind.

  After fumbling my way down the long dark hallway, I almost stumbled as I raced up the stairs. My best friend Heather Sweet was up there. What if something had happened to her? Maybe there was an accident. I was hoping it was something as simple as they’d seen a mouse or spider. Once at the top of the stairs, I burst out into the seating area.

  A crowd had gathered by the front of the stage. Something had happened and it didn’t look good. Worse yet, I hadn’t seen Heather. As I neared the stage, I spotted the body on the floor. Much to my relief, it wasn’t Heather. I couldn’t make out who was on the ground. The person was male I guessed by the dark gray suit and shoes.

  “Why is everyone standing around?” Peggy asked.

  People were blocking the view of the man’s face. I scanned the crowd and spotted Heather standing right next to the man’s body. I saw the man’s face. I recognized him right away. It was Morris Palmer. A knife was protruding from his chest. Blood covered Heather’s hands. Was it bad that I was thinking about her getting blood on the gorgeous cherry-colored Dior dress? Yes, that was definitely bad. I scolded myself for the thought. I suppose the blood would blend right in with the color of the fabric.

  I’d never seen that kind of expression on her face. She looked absolutely stunned. Soon the gathering of people turned their attention to Heather. I knew what they were thinking. It wasn’t possible.

  “This doesn’t look good,” Charlotte said as she stood beside me.

  No, it didn’t look good at all. I ran over to Heather. She stumbled back, looking down at her hands.

  “I think she’s going to faint,” Charlotte said.

  I grabbed Heather and guided her away from the stage.

  First we had to get the blood off her hands. Next we’d get her to a chair. My mind raced with thoughts of how the blood had gotten on her hands. How had this happened to Morris?

  “The police are on the way,” a man from the crowd announced.

  Immediately thoughts of Dylan popped into my mind. Detective Dylan Valentine and I had been seeing each other for a while now. He would be the first on the scene for a death investigation. Unfortunately, I was one of the first too.

  I guided Heather to the ladies’ room so she could wash her hands. Maybe the police would want to see that blood was all over her hands, but I didn’t want to leave Heather in that condition. She had already been through enough. Heather’s whole body shook as she stood in front of the sink. I turned on the faucet and directed her hands under the water. The crimson color faded as it mixed with the water and circled the drain before disappearing.

  “This does not look good, Cookie,” Charlotte said as she stood by one of the stalls.

  Peggy remained silent as she stood by the door watching us. I imagine we had completely shocked her. Once Heather had dried off her hands, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Tears ran down her cheeks. I hated to see her like this. Maybe she didn’t want to talk about it, but I had to know.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Heather turned to me. “When I came from backstage I saw him on the floor. I ran over to him and tried to help him, but it was too late.”

  She placed her head in her hands. I reached out and embraced Heather. All I could do was tell her that everything was okay.

  “So she didn’t kill him? Whew,
that’s a relief,” Charlotte said.

  “Cookie, are you in there?” Dylan’s voice came from the other side of the door.

  “Uh-oh,” Charlotte said, racing over to the door.

  “Okay, don’t panic,” I said.

  “Do they think I killed Morris?” Fear flashed in Heather’s green eyes.

  “Well, the blood all over your hands sure was a good clue,” Charlotte said.

  I glared at her.

  “It doesn’t look good, does it?” Peggy said.

  Oh great, now she was helping Charlotte.

  “We’ll just go explain everything to Dylan. He’ll understand. He knows you and that you’d never do anything like murder.”

  “She has threatened to kill me,” Charlotte said.

  “She was only joking, Charlotte. Besides, you’re already dead. How could she kill you?”

  “Cookie, are you talking to Charlotte or Heather?” Dylan asked.

  “Both,” I said.

  “I knew Dylan would be the first one to arrive.” Heather released a deep breath.

  We would have to explain what had happened. Even I wasn’t completely sure of all the facts. I knew Heather couldn’t be responsible for this though. If someone had harmed Morris, it wasn’t Heather. She was the nicest person I knew.

  “Just remember, tell him the truth,” I whispered.

  The gleam in Heather’s green eyes had disappeared and was now replaced with a blank haze. I wasn’t sure she was even hearing what I said. No doubt her mind was a million miles away. I grabbed the door handle and pulled it open. Dylan attempted a smile at me, but I knew he was also trying to remain professional. Dylan wore the gray pin-striped pants I’d given him with a plain white tailored shirt. He had loosened his red neck tie. I’d given the tie to him for Valentine’s Day. His dark hair had a fresh cut. I knew because I’d gone with him last night to his salon appointment.

  “Are you all okay?” he asked.

  Physically yes, but mentally . . . I motioned toward Heather with a tilt of my head. Police swarmed the area. They stood around Morris, peering down at his lifeless body.

  “Come with me and sit down.” Dylan gestured toward the chairs away from the stage.

  Silence lingered between us for a bit when we sat down. If he was waiting for Heather to talk first we would be waiting for a long time.

  After a couple more seconds, Dylan said, “Can you explain exactly what happened?”

  Heather still stared straight ahead.

  When I saw that she wasn’t talking, I said, “Well, she found Morris that way.”

  “Look at her. She’s practically a zombie now,” Charlotte said.

  “Do you think she really killed him?” Peggy whispered to Charlotte.

  I thought about responding, but Charlotte answered correctly.

  Charlotte moved over to Heather and pretended to pat her shoulder. “There, there, Heather, it will be okay. I find Heather annoying, but she would never murder someone.”

  That was the most empathy Charlotte would offer. Heather frowned and looked around as if she’d felt Charlotte’s presence.

  Dylan touched my hand. “I’m sorry, Cookie, but we’ll have to take Heather to the station to ask more questions.”

  Needless to say, I was upset. Why would he do that? Couldn’t he just take our word for it? He knew I wouldn’t lie, didn’t he?

  “This is ridiculous, Dylan,” I said.

  “Uh-oh, trouble in paradise,” Charlotte said.

  “It’s okay, Cookie.” Heather’s voice was almost a whisper.

  “Cookie, please, I have to do this,” Dylan said.

  Dylan pushed to his feet and helped Heather up from the chair. Her eyes seemed blank as she stared straight ahead. I’d never seen her like this.

  “I don’t think she’s in any condition to go to the police station,” I said, stepping in front of them.

  “Cookie, she has to go.” Dylan looked me straight in the eyes.

  “I think he’s telling you to butt out of the investigation,” Charlotte said.

  “You should take the hint,” Peggy added.

  Another smart-tongued ghost. Just what I needed.

  “Cookie, I promise everything will be fine,” Dylan said. “After we ask the questions she’ll be able to go.”

  I wasn’t so sure I believed him.

  This was the first time I’d doubted Dylan. He was taking my best friend in for questioning for a murder. He had to understand why I would be upset. Dylan guided Heather toward the exit. I reluctantly followed behind. The ghosts happily trailed along too. It was unavoidable to pass the body again. Morris was covered with a white sheet while police talked and blocked off the area. I cast a quick peek, but I didn’t want to look too long. We stepped outside and Dylan put Heather in the back of his car.

  “In the back? Is that really necessary?” I asked.

  “It’s just procedure,” Dylan said, shutting the door.

  I didn’t like the looks of this.

  “I’ll follow you there, Heather,” I called out.

  With the door closed and window up, it didn’t look as if she even heard me.

  Before Dylan said another word I hurried over and hopped in my 1948 Buick convertible. My grandfather had given me the car. It was in mint condition just as he’d left it. Leather seats and shiny chrome. Charlotte was in the passenger seat as usual. I jumped when I looked in the rearview mirror. Peggy was sitting in the backseat. I’d momentarily forgotten about her. It was no surprise with the shocking turn of events. At one time having a ghost appear would have been shocking. My best friend being suspected of murder trumped that though.

  “My father had a car just like this,” Peggy said as she ran her hand along the back of the seat. “The leather seats are keen.”

  I should have guessed Peggy would come with me.

  “Thank you,” I said as I pulled onto the road.

  The fuzzy dice dangling from the rearview mirror swung wildly as I punched the gas, trying to catch up with Dylan’s car.

  “What clues would they have that your friend murdered that man?” Peggy asked.

  “None that I can think of,” I said.

  “We found her standing over the body with blood all over her,” Charlotte said.

  “Yes, but she said she tried to help him.” I navigated a curve.

  “Do you think the police will actually believe that?” Peggy said.

  I peered at her in the rearview mirror. She wasn’t making this any easier. She was starting to sound like Charlotte. Peggy was right though. Just because I knew Heather wasn’t capable of murder didn’t mean the police would believe that. Dylan knew Heather though. Wouldn’t he know the truth? Plus, if I told him Heather didn’t do it he should believe me.

  “I suppose they’ll find fingerprints on the murder weapon,” Charlotte said.

  “I hope so,” I said.

  “Unless they’re your friend’s fingerprints,” Peggy said.

  Whose side was she on anyway?

  “The killer could have worn gloves,” Charlotte said.

  Where did the killer go? How soon had the murder occurred before Heather found Morris? I had so many questions. I steered into the parking lot of the Sugar Creek Police Department. I’d been to this building more times than I’d wanted recently.

  “That’s what we have to find out,” Charlotte said.

  “Everything looks so different,” Peggy said as she gazed around the surroundings. “This used to be a farm.”

  “I actually sold this property so they could build the new jail,” Charlotte said as she sat a little straighter. “I was a successful businesswoman,” she told Peggy.

  I hurried for the door with the ghosts beside me. At least Dylan knew about my ability to talk with ghosts now. Though I hadn’t had a chance to tell him about Peggy yet. Speaking of Peggy, there was still that little matter of why she was hanging around the theater. I wondered why Morris’s ghost hadn’t appeared. If he’d shown up he
might be able to tell me who had murdered him. Though Charlotte hadn’t been able to tell me who her murderer was. Ghosts had a hard time with memory of dramatic events.

  Once inside the station, I rushed over to the counter.

  “Hi, Cookie. Dylan will be with you soon,” the officer behind the counter said.

  “Cookie, dear, you do realize you are now known at the police station. This is never a good thing,” Charlotte said while wiggling her index finger at me.

  It wasn’t as bad as Charlotte made it sound, was it?

  “Thank you for reminding me,” I said.

  The officer watched as I sat down in a chair in the waiting area. He offered a slight grin.

  “He probably thinks you are bonkers.”

  “Thanks a lot,” I said to Charlotte as I looked down at my phone. “You are just full of compliments today.”

  “He can still probably see your mouth moving.” Charlotte sat next to me.

  “Don’t talk to me so I won’t have to answer back.” I tapped my foot against the floor while I waited.

  “Will you stop that? You’re making me nervous.” Charlotte rubbed her temples.

  Dylan appeared from around the corner.

  “Thank goodness. Now maybe you’ll calm down,” Charlotte said.

  I jumped up and met him across the room. “How is she?”

  Dylan hugged me and said, “She’s fine.”

  Dylan looked worried. He ran his hand through his hair. “I just can’t think of any reason why Heather would do this.”

  “That’s because she didn’t. You know her, Dylan. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.” I stared him in the eyes.

  “Actually I did see her swat one at the picnic a few months ago,” Charlotte said.

  Dylan released a deep breath. “It’s just that I’m getting pressure from my supervisor to make an arrest.”

  My eyes widened. “They want to arrest Heather?”

  Dylan held up his hand. “We’re not going to arrest her.”

  “Likely story. What he means is they won’t arrest her yet,” Charlotte said.

  “We simply don’t have enough evidence for that,” Dylan said.

  “You tell them you want all the information they have on Heather.” Charlotte pointed.