A Ghost Meets an Angel: Book 3 Shannon Delaney Paranormal Mystery Series Read online

  A Ghost Meets an Angel

  Book 3 of the Shannon Delaney Paranormal Mystery Series

  Elizabeth Eagan-Cox

  © 2009. All Rights Reserved Elizabeth Eagan-Cox

  First Electronic Edition, December, 2009

  © 2009 cover art Elizabeth Eagan-Cox, photo taken by Christopher Cox-2008

  Publishers Note: This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

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

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  Chapter 1

  Gazing up and down the main street of Julian was like taking a look back in time. If ever there was an Old West town alive and thriving in this modern world, Julian is it. I walked over to my target and stood in front of the Spotted Coyote. The sign up on the tall false front declared that this was "the right spot for Grub, Spirits and Conjuring!" Stepping up onto the oak plank front porch, I peeked in the window to the right of the door and spied a man arranging something behind the long mahogany and brass-appointed bar. Fifteen unoccupied bar stools opposed the bar. Should I tap on the window to get his attention?

  "You must be Miss Delaney?"

  I jumped and spun around.

  "Hey now, I didn't mean to rattle you." The tall, blonde and blue-eyed cowboy tipped his hat to me.

  "You didn't," I stammered, all the while summarizing in my mind that when Rosario had described Gavin Longstreet as being the reincarnation of how the actor Robert Redford looked as the Sundance Kid… she was on target. I offered my hand, "Mr. Longstreet, I presume?"

  "Hmm…" He took a long look at me, "I guess I can't fault Sister Rosario Santiago for sizing me up, for your sake, anyway." He shook my hand and released it. "Let's mosey on in." Longstreet stepped forward and unlocked one of the heavy oak doors to the Spotted Coyote. "After you, miss."

  "This venue is much larger than I imagined!" Longstreet said nothing. I looked around at the spacious interior. "This must be much larger than Old West saloons really were?"

  "I'd say so," Longstreet smiled. "Let's have a seat over here and we'll get started." He walked a few paces over to one of twelve round oak tables and pulled out a ladder- backed chair. I took the hint. He remained standing. "Miss Delaney, would you care for some refreshments?"

  "Coffee, with milk, no sugar."

  Longstreet nodded acknowledgment and walked away. I heard him say something to the man behind the bar and then he returned and took a seat across the table from me. Taking off his hat, he placed it on the chair to his right.

  "I'm not related to him," Longstreet announced.

  "To whom?" I asked.

  "Robert Redford, the actor who played the Sundance Kid."

  I smiled, "Well, you have to admit, you do have an uncanny resemblance. And to be honest, I had to rent the movie to know who Rosario was referring to."

  "So, you're not an Old West fan?"

  "That's not fair," I defended my ignorance. "I'm just not familiar with the really old western movies. Shouldn't my coffee be ready?"

  He laughed and made a motion to the barkeeper, who made haste to bring my coffee over. "Oscar, meet Shannon Delaney, our publicity writer and newest member of the Spotted Coyote family."

  Oscar set the coffee in front of me, "Much obliged to make your acquaintance miss. I'm Oscar Altenwald. If you need anything, see me first."

  "Thank you," I smiled at Oscar, then opened up my notebook and took out my pen. I sipped my coffee, "Excellent coffee." I gave Longstreet a no-nonsense direct stare. If he wanted to be cheeky about this meeting, then I could be all business.

  "Alex said you would be all business like." Longstreet met my look with a grin.

  "Oh, and what else did Alexander Blackthorne have to say?"

  "He said you're the best and that I shouldn't mess with you. So let's get down to business. First off, call me Gavin, we use first names around here, if that's okay with you?"

  "Sure, fine by me, call me Shannon." I sipped more coffee.

  Aside from Oscar, and myself we have Vera Sheridan, she's our biscuit shooter… that's Old West lingo. In other words, Vera is the head chef and she oversees the kitchen. Then there's Ralph Gonsalez, he's the stage manager, and our regular wait staff is cowboys Jack, Sam and Pedro. Also on the wait staff is senoritas Rosalie, Valerie and Maggie.

  I jotted down the names and looked up at Gavin. "Are these their real names?"

  "Yep." He folded his hands and kept them on the table. Vera's still in the process of hiring kitchen help, she'll be in later today if you want that info. And Ralph has a couple of his nephews who help out with the stage equipment and operations, he'll have that info if you need it."

  "More to the point, Gavin, do you want everyone named in your publicity brochure? And what about the performers?"

  "Hmm, good point. No, to your first question. 'Bout the performers," Gavin's attention strayed over toward the stage, he seemed to be surveying the stage with his eyes. Turning his attention back to me, he said, "For now, we'll leave that part alone. Other than myself as the Cowboy Conjurer, I'm still making up my mind about the performers."

  "How do you mean?"

  "Well, we'll have magic entertainment, I do sleight-of-hand, but I wanted some variation, but keep it true to the Old West theme. I was thinking of a mime act, a juggler, that sort of thing. Some acts are showing up a little later, stick around and you'll catch them auditioning on the stage."

  "That sounds like fun!" the bright tone in my voice surprised me. "So… you don't have this all worked out?"

  "Gavin unlocked his hands, "No, not quite. But it will get there, that I am sure of." Some clacking noise sounded from the kitchen, we both turned in that direction. "Must be Vera, she would've come in the back way." Gavin stood up. "This would be a good time to show you around the place."

  I spent the next thirty minutes following Gavin around the Spotted Coyote. I met Vera and was totally charmed by her appearance and manner. I guessed her to be close to sixty, very tall, thin and agile. Her close-cropped curly hair was a shade of flax blond that made it impossible to tell if she dyed it. Vera struck me as person who led a very active life. I gathered by the way she spoke of her plans for the kitchen and menu that her retirement was not on the horizon any time soon.

  Next I met Ralph and several of his nephews. They were so busy going back and forth with equipment for the stage that I had to settle for a nod in my direction. Ralph stopped very briefly to tell Gavin that a few potential performers would be here within the hour. After a tour of the kitchen, its storage area, the public bathrooms and the performers' off-stage dressing room, Gavin led me out to the front to the table we were at earlier. In the corner of my eye I could see a prospective performer had arrived early and was practicing up on stage. I gave a quick look in that direction and discovered it was actually two mimes. And adult woman and a child, or much shorter adult
, both were done up in vintage pioneer costume and white-faced mime make-up. I was entranced by their mimed version of the old parable about a princess and a pea.

  Gavin knocked on the table with his fist. It startled me, how rude! Then I saw he was signaling to Oscar to bring more coffee. Oscar poured refills. I looked over my notes.

  "Gavin, I think I have enough preliminary information to start brainstorming ideas for publicity. And as much as I would like to stay and watch the performers try out, I should be on my way. I have one more question?"

  "Shoot."

  "What's the story behind the name of the Spotted Coyote?"

  "Emily," he answered without an explanation.

  I could only wonder who Emily is. I took the last sip of my coffee, gathered my notebook and stuffed it into my tote bag. "This should be all I need, for now." I stood up.

  "I'll see you out." Gavin stood up and we walked outdoors. From the porch we said our good-byes. As I stepped off the porch, I caught an idea and turned around, Gavin did to.

  "Anything else?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said. "I think the mime team that's up on stage right now… well, they're quite good, don't you agree?"

  Gavin gave me the oddest look.

  I stepped closer to him, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to try and influence you. But," I hesitated for a moment, "you seemed to want my opinion, and well, they are quite good." I smiled, hoping he didn't think I was trying to tell him how to run his business.

  He squinted in the sun's glare that ricocheted off the front windows. "Shannon, what did you see that I didn't?"

  Now it was my turn to look confused. "Gavin, how could you miss them… the two mimes up on stage? They were miming a variation of the old parable about the princess and the pea?"

  Without so much as acknowledging me, Gavin turned on his heels and strode back inside. "Shannon!"

  I dashed after him, and to be sure, the mimes were still on stage, repeating the routine. Gavin was staring at the stage. I stepped in close to him and whispered, "Give them a chance, they are really good."

  He looked at me and smiled, "I would Shannon, if they were actually there. That stage is empty."

  I stared at Gavin and then turned my eyes to look at the stage. Gavin was correct, the stage was bare.

  He turned to me and queried, "This isn't the first time you've seen ghosts, is it?"

  Chapter 2

  I glared at him. "I'd rather not talk about it." I rushed out of there and made a beeline for my car. In twenty minutes I entered the driveway to the lodgings at the Burke's Apple Orchard Retreat. A lady saw me arrive and flagged me over to the guest parking area and then walked over to greet me.

  "You must be Shannon, I'm Odessa Burke, the proprietor along with my husband Isaac." Her smile was warm and welcoming and she too was exactly like Rosario had described, a tall black woman of willowy frame and a coffee-with-cream complexion. Long dark hair worn up and narrow facial features set off by high cheekbones that spoke of the melding between Cherokee and African ancestry. Soft-spoken and gentle in manner, Odessa portrayed a quiet and unshakable strength of character. Like a willow, she would bend, but never break.

  "I'm pleased to meet you Odessa. Rosario raves about you and your place." I looked around at the orchard. Nearly every apple tree was in bloom, presenting a picture of a profusion of snowy flowers. "It is beautiful and peaceful here and hard to believe I'm just a few miles outside of Julian."

  Odessa laughed, "You'll have plenty of peace and quite. And it stays like this for the next few weeks until summer hits us full on. Summer and into autumn are the busiest seasons. May I help you with your luggage?"

  "Oh, no bother." I reached around to the passenger side and pulled out my overnight bag, "I travel lightly and my other things are in the trunk, I'll get them later."

  "Good enough then. I've placed you in the cottage that is over the barn. Of course, it's not a barn now; we use it for winter storage. It will be quiet, I promise. No one needs to go in there for another six months. Though if you do not like stairs, I have a ground-floor cottage vacant?" She smiled and her eyes sparkled. Her offer was sincere.

  "I like stairs, good exercise, and you did say that the view from there is spectacular?"

  "Definitely, the best we have to offer. The view from the dining table looks out over the entire orchard and into the valley below. You won't be disappointed. Shall we?"

  I followed Odessa over a flagstone path that she explained goes through the orchard in a round about way, the perfect stroll if I so desired. In all, the flagstone path was a mile and half walk. The outside stairs up to my cottage were broad in width and generous in depth and had a sturdy wood handrail. I counted sixteen steps up to a small covered porch. Odessa unlocked the door and stood back, "Please," she motioned me in.

  The floor plan was simple and unobstructed. We entered into the main sitting room that emptied into the dining room off the kitchen. From the kitchen hall at the opposite end of the dining room, there was a back door that led out onto a small balcony and then a few steps down the hall was a bathroom and next to it my bedroom. It was a modified square floor plan. The décor was similar to what I imagined the main house was, an updated American Foursquare, built in the early 1900s. A few antiques offset contemporary furniture in a color scheme of sage green, brown and coral.

  "This is lovely, truly lovely. I'm sure I will be comfortable here."

  Odessa handed me the key. "Then I'll let you settle in. Do come by later if you can. Just go up to the back door of the main house and give a knock before entering. We keep it unlocked during the day. I'll be about or Isaac will be in. He's looking forward to meeting you."

  "Thank you. I will stop by, if not today, then tomorrow." I saw Odessa out and then unpacked my overnight bag. In one trip back down to my car I got the rest of my stuff: my laptop computer equipped with wireless connection and a few reference books. I had pretty much arranged everything where I wanted it and was sitting at the dining table off the kitchen opening up my computer, when a chill in the room sent goose bumps up my spine and arms. What would I see if I dared to turn away from my computer and look into the darkened sitting room? Should I stand up, or just turn in my chair? I stared into the laptop's screen hoping it would serve as a reflector, but nothing was there, except for the announcement that I had e-mail! Darn! I caught up my courage and turned around, ever so slowly.

  "I commend your choice in accommodations. This cottage is quite sensible, safe and comfortable for a young woman traveling alone."

  I exhaled a breath of relief and sat back to face my unannounced companion, who was sitting relaxed on the sofa. My very own spirit guide, the ghost of Eric Blackthorne, master magician from the late 1800s, original owner and builder of the now very successful Blackthorne House Mansion Bed and Breakfast Inn in San Diego… my home away from home.

  "Eric, had I known you were following me, I would not have dashed out of the Spotted Coyote. You could have told me you were with me?"

  "Dear Shannon, I cannot intervene regarding that incident. I can advise you and of course I will do my best to protect you. Albeit, what happened today was meant to be, it is why you are here." Eric remained seated and looked at me with such concern I could not be angry with him. Who could? As handsome as ever with his dark hair and eyes and movie star good looks, he was after all the quintessential handsome magician, though today he was not in his professional attire.

  "You're looking casual today and of present time, decked out in Dockers slacks, a V-neck sweater and leather slip-on shoes. What's up Eric?"

  "You approve. I was hoping you would. I borrowed from Alex's wardrobe." He stood and turned around and smiled brilliantly, "My great-grandnephew Alex has impeccable taste."

  "Yes, he does." I smiled. "In fact, you could be his twin. I think I was the one to give him that blue sweater, it was a birthday gift. I had no idea that as a ghost you could take such liberties with the living?" I queried in tone, if not in direct vocabulary. Earl
y on, I had learned that Eric Blackthorne picked up on the slightest of hints.

  "Hmmm, you are baiting me Shannon, and it will not work. In time all will unfold. For now, you have an assignment."

  "Yes, I do. It's called the Spotted Coyote. What would you know about it?"

  "No, the Spotted Coyote is not what I refer to. You're assignment here has to do with the two figures you saw on the stage. The young one, a little girl about twelve years old, she needs your help Shannon. She is the real reason you accepted this assignment."

  Had Eric not been a ghost, had he not proven his worth and mettle to me before, I would have banned him from my life, or, as he would phrase it, from my existence. However, because according to him, all beings in this life and the other world, lead purpose-driven lives, so… far be it for me to deny Eric his purpose to being in my life. I picked up my note pad and pen and sat next to Eric, where in the next hour an incredible tale was told, one that had not ended, as yet. To find the ending, to bring closure… was my assignment.

  Chapter 3

  Eric had given me more than enough mystery to ponder: a young girl's death now haunted me, and it was the very same girl I had seen up on stage at the Spotted Coyote.

  According to Eric, what I witnessed was a residual haunting, an incident that replays itself over and over, much like a broken record or tape recording that gets stuck, doomed to repeat for infinity. In this particular scenario the mime act was one of the young girl's fondest memories and most likely it had been going on all along, but no one else had come along, just yet, who was receptive to it. Receptive, or being receptive, to be more precise, was the key. According to Eric, I was the receptive person this young girl had been waiting for!

  Whew! This case was confusing and I needed fresh air to clear my mind. I headed outside and down the staircase. Stepping down to the last step I looked over at the back door of the Burke's house. Maybe I need company, too? So I kept my promise and moseyed over. True to Odessa's word the door wasn't locked and three hard tapping knocks brought an unfamiliar face to the door.