Read Online An Uninvited Ghost by E.J. Copperman - Free Book Online
Authors: E.J. Copperman
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lemonade?”
“I’d love one.” Anything to get the taste of Phyllis’s coffee out of my mouth. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Don’t be silly.” She disappeared back into the house, and I sat on a wooden rocker near a small table. I felt the glider might be a little strange for this type of visit.
Arlice reappeared in just a few moments, carrying a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses full of ice; she seemed pretty spry for a woman in her late seventies. Or was I being ageist?
“It’s sugar-free. I hope you don’t mind. I have diabetes,” she said after she’d poured for both of us and sat in a facing chair.
“Of course I don’t mind,” I said, taking a sip of the lemonade, which actually was quite good. “It’s delicious.”
A rather sad-looking but enormous black cat ambled its way onto the porch and, without any attempt at niceties, sprung up onto Arlice’s lap. She didn’t jump at the impulsive move, and simply began stroking the cat while she sipped her lemonade.
“This is Marcus,” she said. “He lives with the neighbors but, confidentially, he likes me better.” She produced some kind of treat from her apron pocket and fed it to the cat.
“I can’t imagine why,” I said.
“Enough of this polite chitchat. Tell me why you’re here.”
“I have a client who is . . . concerned about you, and asked me to make sure you were all right,” I answered. Yes, even after practicing what I’d say the whole morning, that was the best I could come up with.
“And who is this client?” Arlice asked, her eyes showing more amusement than anything else. She just continued to stroke the cat, who purred with some satisfaction and stretched on Arlice’s lap like it was a warm spot on the carpeted floor.
“I’m afraid that’s privileged information.” I’ve watched a few detective movies in my time.
Arlice pretended to look shocked. “Really! Here someone is so concerned about my well-being, and I’m not even allowed to know who it is? Did your client happen to mention why I might be in some kind of distress?”
I had rehearsed this, as well, but I was still careful with the words I chose. “It’s a person”—at least at one point, he had been—“who felt that there might have been an attempt to hurt you, and was concerned that this attempt might have, unintentionally, involved my client.”
“Very good, Alison,” Arlice said. “Not so much as a gender-specific pronoun. You’ve given this some thought, haven’t you?”
“I’m just starting out as an investigator, Arlice. I can’t develop a reputation if I go around giving away information about my clients. Nobody will want to hire me.”
“A sound decision,” Arlice said, nodding her head in approval. “But I can’t verify this attempt to do me harm unless I know what it involved.” She produced another treat from her pocket and gave it to the cat, who appeared to think he had indeed died and gone to Cat Heaven.
“Okay. Now, this is going to sound crazy.”
Arlice smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ve heard plenty of crazy in my day.”
I chuckled a little. “Well, according to my client, it involved a prank that lured you to the Ocean Wharf Hotel, where a figure dressed as a pirate threatened you.” I wanted to look away after letting that information out, but Paul was adamant about observing a subject’s reaction.
“Oh, that,” Arlice said.
I blinked a couple of times. “Oh, that ?”
She shrugged. “It was no big deal. My lawyer, Tom Donovan, said he’d heard stories about the ghost of a pirate haunting the main ballroom at the Ocean Wharf. Well, I’ve always loved a good ghost story. I’ve been on lots of ghost tours, and even followed a few scientists in paranormal studies when they’ve investigated claims. So once Tom told me about this one, I figured I’d see for myself.”
Oh boy. “So you see ghosts?” I asked. Another of the sisterhood.
But Arlice shook her head. “No,
“I’d love one.” Anything to get the taste of Phyllis’s coffee out of my mouth. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Don’t be silly.” She disappeared back into the house, and I sat on a wooden rocker near a small table. I felt the glider might be a little strange for this type of visit.
Arlice reappeared in just a few moments, carrying a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses full of ice; she seemed pretty spry for a woman in her late seventies. Or was I being ageist?
“It’s sugar-free. I hope you don’t mind. I have diabetes,” she said after she’d poured for both of us and sat in a facing chair.
“Of course I don’t mind,” I said, taking a sip of the lemonade, which actually was quite good. “It’s delicious.”
A rather sad-looking but enormous black cat ambled its way onto the porch and, without any attempt at niceties, sprung up onto Arlice’s lap. She didn’t jump at the impulsive move, and simply began stroking the cat while she sipped her lemonade.
“This is Marcus,” she said. “He lives with the neighbors but, confidentially, he likes me better.” She produced some kind of treat from her apron pocket and fed it to the cat.
“I can’t imagine why,” I said.
“Enough of this polite chitchat. Tell me why you’re here.”
“I have a client who is . . . concerned about you, and asked me to make sure you were all right,” I answered. Yes, even after practicing what I’d say the whole morning, that was the best I could come up with.
“And who is this client?” Arlice asked, her eyes showing more amusement than anything else. She just continued to stroke the cat, who purred with some satisfaction and stretched on Arlice’s lap like it was a warm spot on the carpeted floor.
“I’m afraid that’s privileged information.” I’ve watched a few detective movies in my time.
Arlice pretended to look shocked. “Really! Here someone is so concerned about my well-being, and I’m not even allowed to know who it is? Did your client happen to mention why I might be in some kind of distress?”
I had rehearsed this, as well, but I was still careful with the words I chose. “It’s a person”—at least at one point, he had been—“who felt that there might have been an attempt to hurt you, and was concerned that this attempt might have, unintentionally, involved my client.”
“Very good, Alison,” Arlice said. “Not so much as a gender-specific pronoun. You’ve given this some thought, haven’t you?”
“I’m just starting out as an investigator, Arlice. I can’t develop a reputation if I go around giving away information about my clients. Nobody will want to hire me.”
“A sound decision,” Arlice said, nodding her head in approval. “But I can’t verify this attempt to do me harm unless I know what it involved.” She produced another treat from her pocket and gave it to the cat, who appeared to think he had indeed died and gone to Cat Heaven.
“Okay. Now, this is going to sound crazy.”
Arlice smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ve heard plenty of crazy in my day.”
I chuckled a little. “Well, according to my client, it involved a prank that lured you to the Ocean Wharf Hotel, where a figure dressed as a pirate threatened you.” I wanted to look away after letting that information out, but Paul was adamant about observing a subject’s reaction.
“Oh, that,” Arlice said.
I blinked a couple of times. “Oh, that ?”
She shrugged. “It was no big deal. My lawyer, Tom Donovan, said he’d heard stories about the ghost of a pirate haunting the main ballroom at the Ocean Wharf. Well, I’ve always loved a good ghost story. I’ve been on lots of ghost tours, and even followed a few scientists in paranormal studies when they’ve investigated claims. So once Tom told me about this one, I figured I’d see for myself.”
Oh boy. “So you see ghosts?” I asked. Another of the sisterhood.
But Arlice shook her head. “No,
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