Ghost at Work by Carolyn Hart Page A

still the quiver of the clubs. Ipushed my hand deeper and felt the barrel of a small gun. My fingers closed around it.
    Kathleen surged toward the screen door. “Someone’s out there. I heard someone outside. Oh dear, should we check? Oh, Chief, you said there’d been a crime. Do you suppose the criminal’s come back?”
    High gasps and startled cries rose from the churchwomen.
    Chief Cobb moved fast for a big man. He was at the screen door and pushing it wide. The beam of his flashlight crisscrossed the yard. He plunged down the steps.
    While everyone’s attention was focused on the chief, I yanked the gun out. It seemed incredibly small to me, scarcely larger than the palm of my hand. However, had anyone glanced in this direction, the gun would have been instantly visible, apparently dangling in space. Quickly, I dropped my hand behind the golf bag. This could only be a temporary respite. Somehow I had to remove the gun from the porch before the chief completed his circuit of the backyard.
    I looked toward the kitchen, but the house offered no sanctuary. Once within, I would again face the conundrum posed by the physics of a nonmaterial being transporting a material object. Besides, it would be even more damaging to Kathleen if the gun were found in the house.
    Chief Cobb banged onto the porch, his face creased in a forced smile. “Nothing untoward outside, ladies. Now I’ll finish my search. Please feel free to return to your—uh—meeting.”
    Not a woman moved.
    He looked from one to another, gave a short nod. I assumed he had a long acquaintance with women. He accepted inevitability with grace. He moved fast, perhaps regretting his visit and certainly not giving any indication he felt the search was going to be productive. He upended the rubber boots, gave each a shake. “This won’t take much longer.”
    His audience observed him closely.
    I studied this area of the porch. It was about six feet to the screen door. I had to put myself and the gun out into the night without anyone noticing. There had to be a way. I looked at the golf bag and at the trash bags filled with cans. I snaked my free hand back into the golf bag, yanked a head cover from a wood. It was a tight fit, but I managed to squeeze the gun into the head cover. Cautiously, I unzipped a side pocket and retrieved two golf balls. With the golf balls in my left hand and the lumpy head cover in my right, I slid above the floor close to the east wall.
    I was almost to the screened door when Elise cried out, “Those golf balls. Where are those golf balls going? How are they going?”
    It was no time to hesitate. I placed the head cover next to the door and stood. As I did, the golf balls rose.
    Elise gave a sharp squeak.
    With a mighty heave, I launched the golf balls at the sacks filled with discarded cans. One bag broke. Cans bounced onto the floor. Someone screamed. Chief Cobb thundered across the porch.
    I reached down, grabbed the head cover, eased open the screened door, and slipped outside. I rose almost to the roof, the head cover well out of sight near the guttering.
    â€œWho moved those cans?” Chief Cobb roared.
    â€œA rat,” Elise shouted. “I saw a rat. I know it was a rat.”
    â€œHow did it open the back door?” the imperious woman with silver hair asked politely, her tone reasonable, puzzled, and verging on nervous.
    â€œThat door opens in the wind.” Kathleen was studiously casual. I didn’t think she had a future in acting, but she was doing her best. “It does it all the time. Don’t give it a thought.”
    â€œThe wind is out of the north,” the reasonable voice observed. “How can it bounce open a door on the east? Chief, are you sure no one was out there?”
    â€œAbsolutely.” His voice lacked certainty. He made a grunting sound. “Almost done. Let me see about that golf bag.”
    He stuck his hand into the bag and