Free Ghost at Work by Carolyn Hart Page A

investigation was beginning from the wrong place.
    Oh yes, someone else knew. The murderer.
    I didn’t see any way to point the authorities to the true locale of the crime without involving Kathleen. Yet if the investigation went in the wrong direction, there was no one to blame but me. That made it my solemn responsibility to provide aid and encouragement to these hardworking officials.
    I can only stress my absorption in the shouldering of this task to defend myself from responsibility in what followed. I was, in fact, so consumed with concern that it took a long moment for the ripple of music to register.
    When it did, I gasped aloud. Fortunately, no one heard me. I suppose a puff of sound from a tree branch wasn’t noticeable in the creaking of limbs in the wind and the crunch of leaves underfoot on the periphery of the scene.
    I realized perhaps an instant before the chief that Daryl’s phone was ringing. Of course I’d heard it before and even held it in my hand. Panic swept me. Inchoate thoughts bounced in my mind, unruly as flung marbles:… got to get it … Kathleen’s picture … mustn’t be seen … if I’d paid attention to business …
    I reached the body at the same time as the chief. He pulled on plastic gloves of some sort as he knelt.
    I plunged my hand into Daryl’s jacket pocket. As I did, the pocket visibly moved.
    The chief’s hand stopped inches away. He had the air of a man who refuses to accept what his eyes are telling him.
    I edged out the phone.
    He shook his head, blinked, grabbed for it.
    The chief’s hand closed around mine.
    I held tight.
    The chief grunted, tightening his grip around my hand. “Funny shape to this damn thing.”
    My fingers crunched against metal. “Ouch.”
    He shot a startled glance at the young policewoman standing near. “Was that you, Anita? Something wrong?” He didn’t ease the pressure on my hand.
    â€œChief?” She stepped closer, her face attentive.
    â€œYou hurt yourself?” He looked up in concern.
    â€œNot me. Jake?”
    Jake strode forward, bent toward the chief. “Anything wrong, sir?”
    I dug my heels into the ground, but I was losing the battle. There was only one solution. With my left hand, I gave the chief’s fanny a big pinch.
    Startled, he let go of the phone and my hand and shot to his feet like a man poked by a pitchfork. “What the heck!” His exclamation brought everyone to a standstill. All eyes focused on him.
    He looked around, frowning. “Something poked me in the rear. I guess a bug or something got me.” He gave Jake, who was nearest him, an odd glance.
    By this time I was once again on my tree limb. My heart raced. Obtaining the phone had been touch and go. I held tight to it, but I was far from home free. What if it rang again? All eyes would swing up. Probably there was a means of forestalling that occurrence, but Ididn’t have any idea what it might be. I couldn’t simply secrete it up here in the tree. The ding-dong ring would reveal its hiding place immediately.
    â€œJake, did you jab me with something sharp?”
    Jake looked shocked. “No, sir. There was nothing close to you. Absolutely nothing.”
    The chief shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s see. Oh yeah, that phone.”
    I worried about taking the phone to the rectory. If it were found there, Kathleen would be in direr straits than she’d ever imagined. However, I had no expertise with the cunning little machine and I needed Kathleen’s help. Wafting through the air with the phone in hand posed a danger. Even though it was dark, someone might glimpse an airborne object in the glare of a passing headlight or in the radiance of a streetlamp. That would cause comment.
    I had an instant’s qualm. Had I undertaken a task beyond my capabilities? Sternly, I quelled my misgivings. I was on a mission. If there were unfortunate