Free Christmas Spirit (The Middle-aged Ghost Whisperer Book 1): (Ghost Cozy Mystery series) by Morgana Best

bottle against her knee. “Otherwise I would think I had a problem.”
    “Constance, I’m not drinking,” I said, but she ignored me.
    “You might be stuck with me all day if I drink more. I had better not drive like this. You know, if you’d had the sense to marry a better man,” she said, “the kids would be here. He would be here.”
    “She’s horrible,” Alum said.
    “That’s for sure!” I said with feeling, but once again Constance thought I was talking to her.
    “It’s okay,” she said. “You have me.” And right then, her head fell back, and she emitted a series of loud, grinding snores.
    “She’s just as lovely when she’s asleep,” Uncle Tim said.
    I laughed. “Merry Christmas, Uncle Tim.”
    “Merry Christmas, Prudence,” he said.
    I looked at Alum who was standing next to my painting, and felt a wave of sympathy for him. I was the only person who could see and speak with him, as far as either of us knew. That had to be a pretty lonely existence.
    “Well, Merry Christmas to you all,” I said, turning to look at Alum.
    “Merry Christmas, Prudence,” Alum said. “I would have gotten you something, but you know, I don’t think I have access to my bank account anymore.”
    I smiled. I was trying to think of something witty to say when he faded away. I looked at the snoring drunk woman on my couch. I had seen her drunk many a time, and I knew it would be hours before she woke up.
    Rainbow came into the room and walked straight over to Luke. “Have they all been looking after you well?” she asked him, shooting a nasty look at Uncle Tim.
    Luke turned around and looked at Uncle Tim. He nodded vigorously. “Yes! Yes!” he exclaimed. “Nice Uncle Tim!”
     
     

Chapter 12
     
    I awoke early on Boxing Day, feeling refreshed, happy with the knowledge that it would be hours before the others awoke. After my second cup of coffee, I decided to check my email. I didn’t want to get back into work mode just yet, but I wanted to see if my manager had emailed me about bookings. The first email I saw totally took my mind off that. It was from Amanda Wayland.
    Prudence,
    A cop, Detective Kelly, came to see me the day before Christmas. He wanted to know if my brother had ever spoken about Jason Taylor or any of them. I told him he hadn’t said anything about it to me, but I’m not sure he believed me. I was wondering if you could see anything, or get some feelings, as to whether he’s going to come and question me again.
    Amanda
    I read the message a few times. So a detective had spoken with Amanda. It seemed odd because I was sure the police would have spoken with her well before now, and would have gotten all they needed from her. So if someone was asking her questions now, they might be looking to clear up loose ends.
    “What’s wrong?” a disembodied voice asked me. “You seem worried.”
    “Brady’s sister, Amanda, emailed me,” I said. “I was going to call her.”
    “What did she say?”
    “She said a detective went to see her, to ask her about the people that her brother was interviewing.”
    “A detective? Did she give his name?”
    I jabbed my finger at the screen. “Detective Kelly,” I said.
    Alum shook his head. “Stanfield Kelly. That’s my dear old partner.”
    I gasped. “The one who shot you?”
    “The one and the same.”
    “Is he dangerous?”
    “I would say he’s dangerous,” Alum said to me, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
    I nodded. “I know. I didn’t mean it like that.”
    Alum sighed, a long and rattling sigh. I thought it a bit odd considering he didn’t even need lungs.
    “Do you think it’s okay to meet her and talk? If the police have been to ask her questions, then surely she must know something about her brother’s murder.”
    “Yes that makes sense,” Alum said. “It could be something she thinks is insignificant, but it would be good if you could question her.”
    “I won’t go to her house,” I said. “I can ask her to meet me