If You've Got It, Haunt It Read online

  4. Does your cat appear out of nowhere?

  5. Can your cat spell?

  6. Does your cat know what you’re going to do even before you know?

  7. Does your cat hiss at certain people, only to seek attention from others?

  8. Does your cat warn you when it’s about to rain or storm?

  Acknowledgments

  Huge thanks to my editor, Michaela Hamilton, and to my agents, Becky Vinter and Laura Wood of FinePrint Literary Management. Thanks also to Tammy White for the help and sharing my love for all things vintage.

  I can’t thank my husband enough for believing in my dream. Without the love of my son, parents, and family, nothing would be possible. Thank you!

  Don’t miss the next Haunted Vintage mystery

  by Rose Pressey

  All Dressed Up and No Place to Haunt

  Coming from Kensington in 2015

  Keep reading to enjoy an excerpt . . .

  Chapter 1

  Seeing a ghost didn’t shock me as much the second time around. Don’t get me wrong, it was still strange and a little unnerving, but overall, I thought I handled it quite nicely.

  My day had started out to be a fantastic one, but it had gone downhill quickly. A movie was being shot at Fairtree Plantation and I’d been invited to watch. The 1850 antebellum mansion made a gorgeous backdrop for the film. Its three stories loomed at the end of a cobblestone drive lined by tall live oak trees draped in Spanish moss. Maple, oak, magnolia, and dogwood trees covered the twelve-acre estate.

  Silence surrounded the set as I watched the actors bring the script to life. The lead characters were embraced in a kiss. Of course, ten seconds ago they had been arguing. But their kiss seemed to have some real passion in it—or was that just because they were good actors?

  I’d once watched a movie being filmed while on vacation in New York City, but spectators had been held back by barricades. I’d never been so close to the action before. I had a front row seat because my name was on the production company’s special guest list. Apparently, helping the film crew with their vintage costumes had perks. My hometown of Sugar Creek, Georgia, had been abuzz since the director had decided to shoot part of his new movie right outside our little town.

  It’s Vintage, Y’all, my vintage clothing boutique, is located in the historic Main Street section of town. Since I’d started blogging about my great vintage finds, I’d attracted quite the following of readers. It hadn’t taken long before a few movie producers had asked for my advice with their costumes.

  Moonlight and Magnolias was the biggest film I’d been involved with so far. Beautiful Nicole Silver and the gorgeous Preston Hart had the lead roles. I’d read in the tabloids that they were dating in real life. Watching their steamy kiss, I could well believe that the sparks between them were real.

  I had been beyond excited when asked to help with their costumes.

  Nicole’s shiny blond hair cascaded to her shoulders and had been styled like Veronica Lake’s with a peek-a-boo bang on one side. The black and white Christian Dior dress that I’d picked up at an auction of a late grandmother’s belongings hugged her curves in all the right places. Her full red lips seemed to be in a constant pout. The massive diamond on her left-hand ring finger glistened in the sunlight, standing out like a spotlight on a stage.

  Preston was tall, dark, and handsome with strong cheekbones and chiseled features. I’d give anything for his thick eyelashes, even my recent score—a vintage Gucci handbag. He wore black trousers and a crisp white shirt with a wide swing tie of small red and ivory paisley.

  Fashion is my passion. Coco Chanel once said, “Elegance does not consist in putting on a new dress.” I totally agreed—which was why I was wearing a vintage dress. Okay, maybe that wasn’t exactly what she’d meant, but nevertheless, it was what I’d gotten from the quote. My name happened to be Cookie Chanel. Funny, right? I had no family relationship with her, as far as I knew.

  Chanel was a name that came over to Georgia when my Scots-Irish ancestors had settled here, evidently on more than friendly terms with Norman invaders. When I’d shown an avid interest in fashion as a child, my grandmother had started calling me Cookie instead of my given name, Cassandra, because it fit so well with Chanel. Plus, Coco Chanel was my granny’s favorite designer. I still use the name Cookie to this day.

  The movie took place partly in the forties and partly in the present. I’d had a wonderful time gathering the outfits for the actors. Of course, I had to dress the part, too. After all, vintage was my thing. I wore a rayon-chiffon blend, red and white polka-dot dress. The fitted bodice came down into a princess waist. It had double straps on the shoulders and a pretty red bow in front. I matched it with a red clutch purse and straw wedge heels with a tiny red trim along the edges.

  It was hard to look glamorous, though. My hair was plastered to my head from the relentless heat. That was part of life in Georgia. My shoulder-length dark locks had started the day in victory rolls, but they had soon fizzled out. I hoped my bright smile—enhanced by Revlon’s Fire and Ice lipstick—would distract others from noticing my bad hair day.

  Nicole and Preston finished their scene by disentangling from their embrace. Breathing heavily, they held hands until they parted, walking separate ways. It was the last scene filmed for the day.

  While gaffers and other crew members put away their gear, I remained seated. I intended to stay until I absolutely had to leave. My day on the film set had been so exciting that I didn’t want it to end.

  Shiloh Northcutt, the costume director, approached. Wearing dark blue shorts and a white T-shirt, she had definitely dressed for comfort. Wisps of auburn hair framed her slender face. “Cookie, you’ve been a lot of help and the costumes were a huge success. I hope you had a fun time today.” She looked at her chunky white rhinestone-encrusted watch.

  “I had a fantastic time.” I’d barely finished the sentence when Shiloh walked off to greet someone else.

  Her abrupt departure was a bit rude, but I figured she was just distracted by all the action and decided to take a walk around the property. I’d never been to the plantation before, and I’d always wanted to get a closer look. Once the home of the Abernathy family who had made their fortune in cotton, it was a museum that offered a rare glimpse into a bygone world.

  The smell of honeysuckle drifted across the warm summer air as I stepped through the garden. A moss-covered stone path led to a patio surrounded by the aromatic flowering rosebushes. Beyond, tall boxwood hedges provided a green shield from the rest of the property.

  Moving over to a small wooden bench, I sat down and inhaled the sweet floral perfume. The sound of an argument soon caught my attention.

  “I saw the way you looked at her,” Nicole ground out.

  “Baby, it wasn’t what it looked like,” Preston pleaded.

  I leaned to my right, hoping to hear more of the conversation. They lowered their voices and their words became muffled, so I pushed to my feet and headed toward them. Reaching the hedges, I realized the conversation was being held just on the other side. I eased over to the greenery’s end and peeked around the corner.

  Nicole and Preston were facing each other, still wearing their vintage costumes. Her arms were crossed in front of her waist in a defensive stance. It definitely wasn’t a scene from the movie. She glared at him and jerked away when he reached out and touched her arm.

  I knew I shouldn’t be watching their very private discussion, and getting caught would be embarrassing, so I inched back and hurried toward the front of the plantation and my car.

  I ran into a few actors who stopped me to ask questions about the vintage clothing I’d provided for them. After speaking with them for about twenty minutes, I spotted Shiloh again. I’d forgotten to ask her when the garments would be returned. My plan was to auction the items off and donate the proceeds to a scholarship fund to enable a talented local student to attend fashion design school in Atlanta. She was so engrossed in the conversatio
n with the petite blond hairdresser that she didn’t see me walking her way.

  As I neared them, I heard my name. Since they still didn’t notice that I was headed in their direction, I stepped behind a nearby clump of azaleas and listened. Anyone who saw me hiding in the bushes would probably think I’d lost my mind.

  “Well, I’m not happy with any of the clothing that she brought,” Shiloh said.

  My mouth dropped. She’d acted as if she loved the items that I’d brought. Why hadn’t she mentioned her dissatisfaction to me? If she’d told me earlier, I would have been willing to work with her and get the items that would have suited her.

  “I guess there’s nothing you can do about it now. I’m sure everything will be fine,” the blonde said.

  “It’ll have to be.” Disgust filled Shiloh’s voice.

  They moved down the path in my direction, so I headed the opposite way. I didn’t feel like having a confrontation. If I asked Shiloh why she didn’t express her unhappiness, I would have to admit that I had spied on her conversation. I gritted my teeth and thought of an expression my grandpa used to use—She’s lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon rut. At least now I knew her true feelings.

  I figured I would walk a bit until they were gone, then hurry back to my car and get the heck out of there. I didn’t want to chance any more hiding in bushes. The third time might be one too many. To my right, I noticed a pond on the edge of the plantation’s property and walked over to look for wildlife. Maybe a muskrat would streak across its still surface, or a family of ducks would waddle by. I wasn’t sure what made me look to my left, but I noticed the body floating facedown right away.

  I knew by the dress that it was Nicole Silver. I pulled out my cell phone. Before I had a chance to dial, I heard a scream behind me. Several panicked people were running toward the pond. The movie director sprinted past me and jumped in the water, dragging Nicole’s motionless body from the pond. He laid her on the grass on her stomach and pressed into her back in a steady rhythm, crying, “Come on, Nicole. Breathe!” Tears mingled with the sweat running down his face.

  As I stood there watching the frantic resuscitation attempts slow to an end, I heard a woman clear her throat. I looked to my left and saw a willowy figure standing beside me. Her chestnut brown hair was twisted into an updo and she wore a pink dress in a style similar to the one that Nicole wore. It wasn’t a dress that I’d given the costume director; I knew that because if it had been, I would remember it. The film crew must have brought the dress with them when they arrived in Sugar Creek.

  It was a lovely garment, and I was a little jealous that I hadn’t found it myself. The woman wearing it must have been an extra.

  “This is just terrible,” she said with a shake of her head.

  I looked at her. “Were you in the film with her?”

  “No, but that’s my dress she’s wearing,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Oh no, not again.

  An excerpt from Cookie’s blog

  Movies with Fabulous Vintage Fashions

  from the 1920s-1990s

  The films listed below were either made in the decade stated or costumes were designed from that era. You’ll find great vintage attire in all of these films.

  1920s

  The Great Gatsby

  1930s

  Bonnie and Clyde

  1940s

  The Notebook

  1950s

  Funny Face

  1960s

  Breakfast at Tiffany’s

  1970s

  Saturday Night Fever

  1980s

  Flashdance

  1990s

  Pretty Woman

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2014 by Rose Pressey

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-6177-3249-2

  First Kensington Mass Market Edition: December 2014

  eISBN-13: 978-1-61773-250-8

  eISBN-10: 1-61773-250-8

  First Kensington Electronic Edition: December 2014