Free Late Edition by Fern Michaels Page A

us have any plans tonight,” Sophie suggested, perking up at the idea.
    Toots caught Bernice’s shocked look and smiled.
    â€œI live in Charleston, remember? This place is about as ghostly and haunted as you can get. Séances? I’ve been to more than you can shake a stick at. I say bring it on.” Clearly, Bernice had imbibed too much. Toots knew she was afraid of her own shadow, but she wasn’t going to bring that up right now.
    â€œIda? Mavis? What about it?” Sophie asked.
    â€œI’ll pass. I have some sewing I want to catch up on,” Mavis said. “And I have a few e-mails I need to take care of, too. I might need to make a trip to FedEx tomorrow, Toots. Do you think you could take me to town if I need to go?”
    Toots and Sophie both raised their eyebrows. “Sure, whatever you need. Why FedEx? Can’t you just drop a letter in the mailbox?”
    â€œI may have a few packages to send up north, that’s all. I said I would send some things, and, well, I just don’t want them to be late if at all possible.” Mavis stood up, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her navy slacks. “Did the driver take my sewing machine to my room? I just hate being without it.”
    â€œDoes this have anything to do with all that gray material you’ve been lugging around?” Sophie asked.
    Startled by Sophie’s question, Mavis answered, her words rushed. “Not one thing. I don’t even know why you would say something so silly. Now, I am a bit tired, and poor Coco, well, it’s time for her dinner. Bernice, do you have a can opener I can use? I thought I packed one, but I’m not sure. I’ll just run upstairs for a can of food and her bowls. I’ll be right back.” Mavis zoomed out of the room at the speed of light.
    â€œWTF? What’s crawled down her skinny spine and bit her on the ass?” Sophie asked.
    Bernice quickly refreshed their drinks, then followed Mavis. “I’ll be right back.”
    Toots nodded, taking a sip of her drink. “Mavis is up to something. I wish I knew what it was.”
    â€œWhatever it is, it has something to do with her morbid obsession, reading the obits. She’s been acting strange lately. Grabs the paper before anyone has a chance to look at the headlines. She hasn’t been reading The Informer, either. That’s not like her. She’s always supported Abby’s work. Think we should spy on her?” Sophie smiled, her eyes lighting up like a Roman candle on the Fourth of July.
    â€œYou’re a sneaky old woman, but I don’t have to tell you that. Yes, I think we should spy on her. Not too much. Just a little. I’m curious why she needs to go to FedEx. Mavis never sends packages, says it’s not in her ‘budget.’ ” Toots made air quotes. “I’ll give her anything she wants. All she has to do is ask.”
    â€œMe, too, but I believe Mavis wants to get by on her own, at least as much as her pension and Social Security allow. You’ve been good to all of us, financially and otherwise.”
    Ida had remained silent. Sitting in the corner, she finally chose to make her presence known. “I think we need to do what we came here to do, then get back to LA. It seems we’ve, rather you two, are getting sidetracked. Aren’t we supposed to be finding ghost stories and Hollywood gossip for The Informer? Well?” Ida asked. “Am I right?”
    Sophie jumped up like the Energizer Bunny. “Where does it say the stories have to come from Hollywood? At least the ghost stories. If it ends up Thomas really was murdered, don’t you want to find out? I would think a ghostly encounter, no matter the freaking location or who it is, would be newsworthy to The Informer. The Enquirer sure as hell gets around, and The Globe, too. Maybe that’s the secret to their success? We’ve been trying too hard to focus our . . . research .