Charley's Ghost

Genres: Ghost; Mystery; Cozy Mystery; Supernatural suspense

Synopsis

From Book 1:

Book 1, Charley's Ghost series
USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR
When Amanda's lying, cheating, scam-artist husband, Charley, saves her life in a near-fatal motorcycle accident, she can almost forgive him for dragging his feet on their divorce. Then she discovers he'd been dead for several hours at the time she thought he rescued her. And not just dead…murdered.

On the good side, at least they are no longer married.

But she's the primary suspect in Charley's murder and, as if that isn't bad enough, Charley's ghost shows up in her apartment. He was rejected, kicked back, not allowed to go into the light. The situation was bad enough when he was alive and trying to charm his way back into her life, but now he claims to be unable to go more than a few yards away from her. She can't even be certain he isn't peeking when she undresses for bed.

Even death did not them part.

As Amanda puts her life in danger in an effort to bring Charley's murderer to justice and send him into the light or the dark or anywhere away from her, she learns her knowledge of Charley's misdeeds is only the tip of a toxic iceberg. Charley blackmailed his murderer, blackmailed Amanda's father, lied about his family being dead when he is actually related to half the town of Silver Creek, Texas, and, with his treachery, has stirred up secrets that will change Amanda's life.

 

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Sample

Wrong, just wrong, Amanda thought as she squirmed uncomfortably on the first pew of the Methodist Church. Her mother-in-law sat beside her while her deceased husband lay in the coffin at the front of the church as well as stood beside it, peering in, criticizing what the undertaker had done with his body.

“Look at my hair. It’s awful! I never wore my hair like that. And make-up? They put make-up on me? I hope you didn’t pay these people to make me look like this, Amanda.”

She glared at him, wishing she’d had him cremated. That would have solved the hair and make-up problems.

Things didn’t improve as the pastor delivered the eulogy.

“Why’d he have to tell that schmaltzy story from when I was a kid? Makes it sound like pulling that cat out of that pond was the only good thing I ever did.”

Probably was. Amanda made a note to tell Charley her thoughts later, including the cremation regret. For the time being, all she could do was scowl at him while Irene sobbed softly into a tissue. Herbert slipped a consoling arm about his wife’s shoulder, his own eyes moist.

Finally the service ended. Amanda started out of the church with the family while Charley entertained himself by telling her all the “secrets” of the people around them.

“Big bald guy over there, Hayden Marshall, drinks a couple of beers every Sunday morning before he goes to the First Baptist Church with his wife. Can’t blame him. Look at his wife. She never shuts up. That tall blond over there? She’s not a natural blond. Want to know how I know?”

“Charley!” Amanda gasped involuntarily.

Irene slipped an arm around her waist. “I know, Amanda. I can’t help calling to him myself sometimes. I keep expecting him to come around the corner, smiling, telling us it was all one of his practical jokes.”

Amanda clenched her teeth and glowered at Charley.

“Hey, I was just going to tell you I dated her hairdresser. What did you think I was going to say, Amanda?” Charley’s laughter died abruptly. “It’s Kimball. He’s here.”

In spite of her certainty that all this Kimball stuff was nonsense, Amanda tensed at the genuine fear in Charley’s voice.

A tall, dark man approached. “Herbert, Irene, I wanted to come by and pay my respects. I’m so sorry about your loss.” He grasped each of their hands in turn.

“Thank you,” Herbert mumbled.

The man was good-looking in a smooth, movie-star way, a way that would compel the attention of others from across the room. But up close, there was something disturbing in his eyes. They were large and brown and should have called up images of puppy dogs. Instead they sent a shiver down Amanda’s spine. This man’s gaze was not a warm brown. His eyes were cold and hard like a frozen pool in an underground cave where sunlight never had and never would touch.

The owner of those cold eyes reached for Amanda’s hand. “And this must be Charley’s widow. I’m Roland Kimball, mayor of our little town.” She reflexively drew back. Not that she really believed this small town official had murdered Charley or was a threat to her. It was those eyes. If she touched him, she might be sucked into their frigid depths and never return.

“Yes.” She forced a smile and tried to act as if she weren’t deliberately ignoring his outstretched hand. “I’m Charley’s widow.”

“Be careful,” Charley whispered.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Randolph. How long will you be staying in our little town?” His voice and his smile were warm and compelling. Only his eyes gave him away, turning his words into a veiled threat.

“Tell him you’re leaving tomorrow!” Charley ordered.

She wanted to leave right then, that very minute. Push through the crowd, get to her motorcycle and ride away from the man as fast as she could. “I’m not sure,” she said defiantly. “I may stay several days with my…my husband’s family. Get to know everybody.” She emphasized the last word, returning his veiled threat—if, indeed, such a threat existed.

“She’s going to be staying as long as we can keep her,” Irene confirmed, smiling at Amanda.

“No!” Charley protested, waving his arms frantically. “You gotta get out of here! Go home! Buy a gun! Move in with the judge!”

“I hope to see you again while I’m here,” Amanda said sweetly.

“I can’t believe you said that!” Charley shrieked. “Are you nuts? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” For a fleeting instant, Amanda thought Kimball was responding to Charley’s question about getting herself killed. Of course he had replied to her comment that she hoped to see him again. Nevertheless, his words chilled her. Perhaps the meaning was the same as if he had replied to Charley.