Read Online Giving Up the Ghost by Marilyn Levinson - Free Book Online
Authors: Marilyn Levinson
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fact Jill had told her. No mention of her
husband, Fred. Had Fred killed Cam? It seemed a bit farfetched and melodramatic, given that he and
Jill were still living together as a couple. But maybe Fred had killed Cam so he and Jill would still be
a couple. Although judging from last night, they were barely on speaking terms. Surely Jill wouldn't
stay with Fred if she knew he'd murdered Cam--the operative word being "knew."
There were too many suspects, Gabbie mused as she unlocked the front door. Besides,
how was she supposed to open up a murder investigation when Cam's best friend, the town's police
chief, had ruled his death an accident? Obviously, she had to find evidence or proof or something
that would convince Darren Rollins he'd been wrong. And how was she supposed to perform this
amazing feat?
Thank goodness Cam wasn't around. Gabbie changed into jeans and a polo before
starting on dinner. After she'd eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, she headed for the den with some
trepidation. She had prep work to do, and while Cam was the proverbial albatross around her neck,
she owed him a report of what she'd learned so far, though it amounted to nothing.
She'd managed half an hour of reading and note-taking, before a cold draft chilled the
room. This time she wasn't surprised when Cam materialized beside the glass doors.
"How was your first day of school?"
"Fine." She raised her eyebrows. "I met Jill this afternoon. In the library."
"How is she? How does she seem?"
"Nice. Unhappy. We got to talking. She strikes me as a kind person."
"And that surprises you?"
"Somewhat," Gabbie admitted.
"You expected a big, brassy blonde. What other type of married woman would have a
longstanding affair with the town sex machine? But it just happened, Jill and me. If you knew Fred,
you wouldn't wonder why."
She laughed. She found the "big, brassy blonde" funny. "I saw him at Logan's last night.
He hardly said a word all through dinner."
Cam stretched out on the couch and narrowed his eyes. His expression turned
forbidding, giving Gabbie an idea of what a tough businessman he must have been. "Believe me, he's
more toxic than the bland, boring persona he assumes."
Gabbie raised an eyebrow. "Quite the psychiatrist, aren't you?"
"You have to know how people think if you're going to outwit them."
For a ghost, his mind was keen, his conversation stimulating, but Gabbie hadn't the time
nor the inclination for bantering. "Jill finds it hard to believe your death was an accident."
"I'm glad," he said, not much above a whisper.
She sensed the effort it took Cam not to ask what else Jill had said about him. Instead, he
said, "Now to get Darren to see it that way. If we could find one shred of evidence that pointed to
murder, he'd reopen the investigation in a flash."
"One shred of evidence," she echoed. "The trouble is, this room was never treated as a
crime scene. Everything's been trampled on and handled."
"And Mary Hanley had some pretty thorough cleaners in here. I wasn't exactly the best
housekeeper in town."
Gabbie forced herself to bring up the next subject she wanted to ask him about. "Jill told
me Sonia Russell was raped when she was in high school."
He sat up to stare at her in obvious surprise. "How did that happen to come up in the
conversation?"
Gabbie sat down at the desk. She shook the snow scene paperweight and watched the
snow settle before going on. "Sonia was at the circulation desk. She gave Jill a hard time."
"That's Sonia, all right. She has her ways. Does it to make herself feel important."
"I was just wondering. You didn't have anything to do with...that business."
Cam put his hand to his heart. "Dammit, Gabbie, what do you take me for? I never forced
a girl or woman for as much as a kiss. In fact--" He stopped, as though deep in thought.
"In fact, what?"
"Darren and I found Sonia that night on the beach, a couple of miles from here. It was
early April, and cold as a witch's--er--nose. Must have been spring
husband, Fred. Had Fred killed Cam? It seemed a bit farfetched and melodramatic, given that he and
Jill were still living together as a couple. But maybe Fred had killed Cam so he and Jill would still be
a couple. Although judging from last night, they were barely on speaking terms. Surely Jill wouldn't
stay with Fred if she knew he'd murdered Cam--the operative word being "knew."
There were too many suspects, Gabbie mused as she unlocked the front door. Besides,
how was she supposed to open up a murder investigation when Cam's best friend, the town's police
chief, had ruled his death an accident? Obviously, she had to find evidence or proof or something
that would convince Darren Rollins he'd been wrong. And how was she supposed to perform this
amazing feat?
Thank goodness Cam wasn't around. Gabbie changed into jeans and a polo before
starting on dinner. After she'd eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, she headed for the den with some
trepidation. She had prep work to do, and while Cam was the proverbial albatross around her neck,
she owed him a report of what she'd learned so far, though it amounted to nothing.
She'd managed half an hour of reading and note-taking, before a cold draft chilled the
room. This time she wasn't surprised when Cam materialized beside the glass doors.
"How was your first day of school?"
"Fine." She raised her eyebrows. "I met Jill this afternoon. In the library."
"How is she? How does she seem?"
"Nice. Unhappy. We got to talking. She strikes me as a kind person."
"And that surprises you?"
"Somewhat," Gabbie admitted.
"You expected a big, brassy blonde. What other type of married woman would have a
longstanding affair with the town sex machine? But it just happened, Jill and me. If you knew Fred,
you wouldn't wonder why."
She laughed. She found the "big, brassy blonde" funny. "I saw him at Logan's last night.
He hardly said a word all through dinner."
Cam stretched out on the couch and narrowed his eyes. His expression turned
forbidding, giving Gabbie an idea of what a tough businessman he must have been. "Believe me, he's
more toxic than the bland, boring persona he assumes."
Gabbie raised an eyebrow. "Quite the psychiatrist, aren't you?"
"You have to know how people think if you're going to outwit them."
For a ghost, his mind was keen, his conversation stimulating, but Gabbie hadn't the time
nor the inclination for bantering. "Jill finds it hard to believe your death was an accident."
"I'm glad," he said, not much above a whisper.
She sensed the effort it took Cam not to ask what else Jill had said about him. Instead, he
said, "Now to get Darren to see it that way. If we could find one shred of evidence that pointed to
murder, he'd reopen the investigation in a flash."
"One shred of evidence," she echoed. "The trouble is, this room was never treated as a
crime scene. Everything's been trampled on and handled."
"And Mary Hanley had some pretty thorough cleaners in here. I wasn't exactly the best
housekeeper in town."
Gabbie forced herself to bring up the next subject she wanted to ask him about. "Jill told
me Sonia Russell was raped when she was in high school."
He sat up to stare at her in obvious surprise. "How did that happen to come up in the
conversation?"
Gabbie sat down at the desk. She shook the snow scene paperweight and watched the
snow settle before going on. "Sonia was at the circulation desk. She gave Jill a hard time."
"That's Sonia, all right. She has her ways. Does it to make herself feel important."
"I was just wondering. You didn't have anything to do with...that business."
Cam put his hand to his heart. "Dammit, Gabbie, what do you take me for? I never forced
a girl or woman for as much as a kiss. In fact--" He stopped, as though deep in thought.
"In fact, what?"
"Darren and I found Sonia that night on the beach, a couple of miles from here. It was
early April, and cold as a witch's--er--nose. Must have been spring
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