Free Ghost Hunter (The Middle-aged Ghost Whisperer Book 2): (Ghost Cozy Mystery series) by Morgana Best Page A

being healthy, I also bought a bottle of water. I had filled bottles of water at home, but had left them on the car roof. Who knows where they were now? That’s one of the drawbacks of doing things first thing in the morning before coffee.
    I put the bottle of water and the wrap in my purse, and stuck my keys into my jeans pocket. I was halfway back to my car when I was tempted to have a drink of the water. I couldn’t believe the heat.
    I heard footsteps running behind me and instinctively moved over to the right side of the pavement to let whoever it was pass. Next thing I knew, someone had barreled into me, spilling some of my coffee. I whirled around, to see a man wearing a ski mask grabbing for my purse.
    Firstly, my instinct was to save my coffee. I was holding a takeout cup of coffee in each hand and he was dragging my purse from my shoulder. Secondly, I realized that I had spilled some of one coffee anyway, so I threw the remains in the man’s face. He screamed and pushed me hard, and I fell into the gutter.
    He disappeared down the street at a fast pace. People rushed to help me. I was sitting in the gutter. The first thing I thought was that I had saved one coffee, and my second thought was that there was a burning hot pain stabbing right through my left ankle.
    A young man leaned over me. “Did he steal anything?”
    I looked up to see an elderly lady picking my belongings off the road. I felt in my jeans pocket. My keys were still there. “No, I don’t think so,” I said. “My wallet is there, and my keys were in my pocket. I think throwing my coffee in his face scared him away.” After I spoke, I took a long gulp of my remaining coffee.
    “Are you hurt?” the young man said, looking at my ankle which was already swelling.
    “Yes,” I said. “My ankle really hurts. I think I’ve twisted it.”
    “It could be broken,” another person said. “I already called the police.”
    Police . I beamed. It would be wonderful if the police wanted me to make a statement at the Oxley Grove Police Station. I hoped like crazy that it was the nearest police station.
    I gingerly stood up. I could weight bear, which made me think my ankle wasn’t broken—not that I really knew anything about these things—but it hurt like crazy.
    “Do you think it’s broken?” the young man asked me.
    I shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I twisted it, so it’s probably sprained or just swollen or something. I don’t know,” I said again, fighting the urge to burst into tears. The shock of the incident was starting to affect me. I took another sip of coffee.
    There was a bus stop seat behind me, and the young man helped me to it. The passers by collected all of my belongings into my purse and handed my purse to me. I thanked them and they all left. The young man and the elderly lady stayed, as they had seen the whole incident and figured the police would want them to answer questions.
    The police arrived soon after: two officers, a man and a woman. “Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?” the woman officer asked me.
    I shook my head. “No, I’m just shaken,” I lied. I dearly wanted to be taken to the Oxley Grove Police Station so I could look for Constable Summers.
    “Was anything stolen?” the officer asked me.
    I looked in my purse again, just to double check. “No,” I said, “just my coffee.” The officers exchanged glances. “I threw my coffee in his face,” I said. “That’s what made him run off.”
    “Are you sure it was a man?” the male officer asked me.
    “Yes, no. Um, I’m not sure, sorry.”
    “It was definitely a man,” the young man said, and the elderly lady nodded her agreement.
    The male officer scratched his chin. “That’s the first incident we’ve had around here lately,” he said.
    “In years!” the female officer said. “Did you get a good look at him?”
    I shook my head. “No, he was wearing a ski mask.”
    The officers asked all three of us to give