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The Ex Who Conned a Psychic: Charley's Ghost, Book 3
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Synopsis
Amanda is still haunted by her ex-husband, Charley…literally haunted. He’s stuck between this life and the next, unable to move on, unable to get more than a couple of hundred feet away from Amanda and unwilling to go even that far. She’d like to take a shower without worrying about him peeking, to have a phone conversation without him listening and commenting, to have a date with the hot Detective Jake Daggett. Jake has asked, but a threesome with Charley doesn’t sound like fun.
Her new friend Teresa, a professional psychic and medium, may be able to help. However, before she moves Charley on to the next life, she needs his help in contacting her own dead husband to find out who murdered him. His ghost isn’t talking, and if they can’t find his killer, Teresa could go to prison. Amanda would lose not only a friend but also the possibility of getting rid of Charley. The facilities for spiritual progression in prison are limited.
While Amanda is trying to help Teresa find her husband’s murderer, a man from Charley’s past shows up with a document signed by Charley giving him possession of Amanda’s motorcycle shop and apartment. Surely Ronald Collins doesn’t really believe he get can away with that, but after he shoots Amanda’s live oak tree and burns her truck, she realizes the man is serious…and psychotic.
Amanda just wanted to get rid of her ghost. Now she has a killer, a crazy man, and two ghosts in her life.
Release date: May 9, 2014
Print pages: 265
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The Ex Who Conned a Psychic: Charley's Ghost, Book 3
Sally Berneathy
Chapter One
Amanda roared into the parking lot of the Dallas Police Department substation and brought her Harley Sportster to a stop. Charley was, of course, riding on the back. In the two years they’d been married he hadn’t spent a lot of time hanging around, but now that he was dead, she couldn’t get rid of him.
She locked the bike, dismounted, slid off her helmet, and glared at him. “Do not start on me again!”
Charley spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. The September sunlight glinted off his blond hair much as it had done in life, though everything about him, including his hair, was translucent in his ghostly state. “I just think that detective’s taking up too much of your time, making you come back in for more questions again.”
“Really? We’re trying to make sure those three creeps who murdered Dawson’s parents and kidnapped his brother are put away for the rest of their lives, and you think it’s taking too much of my time?”
Charley shrugged and looked away. “Seems to me you could have done it over the phone instead of in person.”
“You’re jealous, aren’t you? That’s what this is all about. It’s not about how much time it takes. It’s just because you think I’m attracted to Jake Daggett.” She was, but she wasn’t going to admit it to Charley.
Charley’s cheeks flushed faintly pink. Interesting that he could still blush when he had no blood and no body to hold any blood. He looked away and didn’t respond to her accusation. Lying had been his favorite form of communication in life, but in death Charley couldn’t lie so he sometimes had difficulty maintaining a conversation.
Amanda started across the parking lot toward the front door of the substation.
“You could at least wait until I’m dead,” he mumbled.
“You are dead. If you hadn’t been murdered, our divorce would have eventually become final no matter how long you fought it. Either way, I’m not married to you anymore and it’s none of your business if I decide to date somebody.”
While it wasn’t any of his business, his presence was a definite deterrent to any sort of relationship. Bound to her by an invisible tether, he couldn’t get farther away than a few hundred yards and usually refused to go even that far, especially when Detective Jake Daggett was around.
“You’re a cold woman, Amanda.”
“Actually, I’m a little hot after riding over here in this leather jacket. I think the temperature must be about ninety already.”
“Amanda Caulfield?”
Amanda looked up at the sound of her name. A young woman with dark hair bounced down the steps leading to the front door of the station.
The woman paused in front of Amanda, her smile bright, her brown eyes sparkling. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember me. Teresa Landow. I sat behind you in third period history class.”
Amanda forced her lips upward in what she hoped was a reasonable facsimile of a smile. “Teresa. Of course I remember you.” Like she’d ever forget one of the most annoying people she’d ever met. Teresa—cheerleader, prom queen, homecoming queen, girl most likely to succeed and to be hated by every other girl in school. Amanda gave her a quick once over. Damn. She still looked great in her skin tight jeans and boots with three inch heels that elevated her tiny frame almost to Amanda’s height. Her hair, falling sleek and straight down her back, glinted blue black in the sunlight.
“You’re looking good,” Teresa said. “Is that gear for real? Are you a biker chick now?”
“I ride motorcycles, yes.” Amanda glanced over her shoulder. “That’s one of mine.”
Charley wrapped his arms around himself and gave a mock shiver. “From the frigid tone of your voice, I’m going to take a wild guess and say this woman was not your best friend.”
Amanda turned back to Teresa who appeared to be looking at Charley. Of course she wasn’t since nobody but Amanda had the privilege…or curse…of being able to see and hear Charley.
Teresa’s gaze shifted to the Harley. “I’ve always thought riding a motorcycle would be fun.”
“It is. I got my first bike the summer after we graduated. Oh, but you left just before graduation, didn’t you?” Even as Amanda spoke, she remembered the stories and wished she could call back her words. She didn’t like Teresa but hadn’t meant to be cruel by bringing up painful memories.
Teresa shrugged. “Dad made some bad investments and we lost the house. Moved to a less expensive part of town.” She recited the disastrous events as if they were of little importance though Amanda recalled she had been devastated at the time.
Charley edged closer. “Guess you got her put down for whatever she did to you in high school.”
Amanda forced herself not to look at him, not to reprimand him, to keep her gaze focused on Teresa. “Well, it’s great to see you again.” She moved forward to go around the woman and continue into the substation.
But Teresa stepped backward, remaining in her path. “Your dad’s a lawyer, isn’t he?”
“He was. He’s a judge now.” The woman came out of the police station and asked about a lawyer. Amanda had a feeling she knew what was coming next.
Teresa’s cheerleader smile drooped slightly. “Oh. Well, if he’s a judge, I may be seeing him soon. My husband was murdered, and they’re looking at me as a suspect just because I hated him and had good reason to kill him.”
Amanda flinched and felt a flash of sympathy for the woman she’d envied and hated in high school. “Been there, done that.”
“No kidding?” Teresa’s gaze flickered to the side, again almost as if she could see Charley. “Your husband was murdered and they blamed you? Who’d you get to represent you in court?”
“It didn’t go that far. They didn’t have any evidence against me. It was all circumstantial, and we found the real killer.”
“That’s wonderful! Maybe you could help me find out who murdered my husband.”
“Oh, well, uh…”
“She probably did it herself,” Charley said.
“I did not!” Teresa snapped.
Charley moved closer to Amanda. “Okay, that was weird.”
Teresa couldn’t have heard him and responded to his accusation. Maybe she was responding to Amanda’s hesitation, assuming it meant she thought Teresa was guilty. “I’m sure you didn’t. The police will find the truth.”
Teresa rolled her eyes. “Not likely. I just talked to them, and they don’t want the truth. They only want a conviction. The cop in there was very rude to me, acted like he didn’t believe a word I said. Told me not to leave town.”
Amanda wasn’t sure how many homicide detectives they had at the small substation, probably not a lot. “What was the detective’s name?”
“Jake Daggett. Hot guy, but a complete jerk.”
Charley snorted.
“That’s the guy who had my case. He’s okay. He just likes to come on as the bad cop. I’m not sure they have a good cop. You’ll be fine.” Again Amanda tried to move around Teresa.
Teresa took her arm to detain her. All traces of the happy cheerleader were gone. She looked downright desperate. “Amanda, I need your help.”
“My help? I guess I could ask my dad to recommend a good criminal lawyer.” She tried to free her arm but the smaller woman’s grip was astonishingly strong.
“I’m a psychic,” Teresa said.
“A what? Psychic? Like on television?”
“Yes, exactly like on television. My grandmother was too. I inherited it from her. My mother didn’t have the gift or maybe we wouldn’t have lost everything.” She grinned wryly. “We’re gypsies. Well, we were a few generations ago. I’ve always had the gift, and it’s how I’ve been earning a living since Anthony and I split up.”
“You were separated when he was murdered? Me too.” Amanda felt a glimmer of kinship with this woman she didn’t particularly like. “We were getting a divorce but he got himself killed before it was final.” The archaic expression was the way she looked at it. Charley had got himself killed by being a greedy blackmailer.
Teresa stepped back and held a hand to her chest, her eyes wide. “Me too! He left me for some blond bimbo who had a bigger boob job than mine and then he got himself killed.”
“Your husband cheated on you? So did mine!” They were practically sisters.
“We need to go somewhere and talk.”
“I can’t right now. I have to meet with Detective Daggett about another case. Maybe we can get together for lunch sometime.” Even though they shared membership in the cheated-on sisterhood, Amanda wasn’t sure she wanted to pursue any kind of involvement with the former cheerleader turned psychic.
“How about dinner tonight? We have way more to talk about than we can get to over just lunch.”
“Well, uh…”
“Amanda, this is probably going to sound crazy, but I swear it’s the truth. You have a spirit attached to you.”
Amanda gasped.
Charley gasped. “She can see me?”
“Of course I can see you. You’re a man, tall and blond with blue eyes and wearing a white knit shirt and khaki slacks.”
She could see him. Somebody else could see Charley. Amanda bit her lip and tried to take it in. She had been certain she was the only one who could see and hear Charley. But now, unless this was some kind of a trick, Teresa could see him. “It’s my ex-husband, Charley.” Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
“Oh, you know he’s here? I didn’t realize you were psychic too.”
Amanda shook her head. “I’m not. He’s the only ghost I’ve ever seen. I hope he’s the only one I ever have to see.”
“Did he tell you who killed him? Is that the way you were able to prove your innocence?”
“Yes, I did,” Charley said proudly. “You can really see me?”
“I couldn’t miss you. You still have a strong presence on this plane. You didn’t get very far away. But I can’t see my own husband’s spirit, and none of the spirits I’ve talked to have seen him either. That’s got to be why I’ve been led to you, Amanda. I don’t know if he’s hiding from me because he wants to see me go to prison or he’s just on such a low plane, the other spirits can’t see him. But maybe, since your husband’s spirit is so close to the earthly plane, he can talk to mine and find out who murdered him.”
“Uh…” It was the only thing Amanda could think of to say.
“I don’t know your husband,” Charley protested. “How am I supposed to talk to him?”
“You haven’t been doing this very long, have you?” Teresa asked. “You’re stuck at a very low level. You must have been a bad husband.”
“I...” Charley stopped with his mouth open. His lips twisted and he tried again to form words, probably to deny he was a bad husband. “I...” He sighed and gave up the attempt. “I was a bad husband.”
Amanda laughed. “He can’t lie anymore. It’s a terrible state for somebody who couldn’t tell the truth before.”
Teresa compressed her lips and nodded. “He’s definitely at a really low level. But if you help me, I’ll help him move on to a higher plane.”
“You will?” The feeling of sisterhood was growing. “You can help him move on?”
“Of course. I can help him move into the light.” She shrugged. “I’m a medium. I call myself a psychic because the term is more marketable, but actually I’m a medium. I talk to dead people.”
Whatever she called herself, she’d just become Amanda’s new best friend.
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