The Murder in Skoghall (Illustrated) (The Skoghall Mystery Series Book 1) by Alida Winternheimer
Authors: Alida Winternheimer
Ads: Link
bit her lip to contain her excitement. “You make these,” she held up her mug, “and you read Alice Munro. Be still, my beating heart.”
Perhaps Alice Munro was to blame. Perhaps the melting blue glaze on the coffee mug. Or even the fact that Beckett had said he enjoyed hearing her laugh. When he inquired about her house and her settling in, Jess told him about the red-haired woman in her bedroom. She told him about the lead toy cowboy and Shakti peeing in her crate and the woman watching her go to sleep before walking through the wall. She did not tell him about the vinegar or that Tyler had even been in her home. But she told him enough to feel a great relief at having told someone, and if he did not believe her, then he would only be her hardware salesman. There would be nothing much lost. When she finished talking, she lifted her gaze from the coffee mug and met his eyes.
He appeared deeply concerned. “You’ve gone white,” he said. “You’re really scared.”
Jess looked out the window at the brick kiln behind the studio. “I think…” She took a breath, preparing to say the words aloud for the first time. “…that my house is haunted.”
Beckett was quiet. He did not laugh or ridicule her, though in the time spent waiting for him to speak, Jess became nervous. Finally, he said, “I think that woman died in your house. Or on the property.” He closed his eyes and put his fingers to the center of his brow, then spread them out as though smoothing the lines from his forehead. “I don’t know what I’m talking about, but the woman who owned the house before you…I think she had some issues there.”
“Issues? Like a ghost? Like those kinds of issues?”
Shakti stood on the bench and shook herself, hairs flying from her back and drifting toward Jess’s open mug. She lifted her paws to the window sill and gazed outside. A squirrel bounding across the dirt yard caught her eye, and her ears lifted.
“I don’t know, Jess. What I heard was second-hand. I think that woman had big plans for renovating the house and then got scared away. But she couldn’t find a buyer fast enough, so she abandoned the house. Left it for the bank to foreclose on.”
Jess’s head raced with implications. If she was scared away…foreclosed on…
Beckett reached across the table to touch her hand and Jess startled. When her nerves settled, she was glad she hadn’t jerked her hand away from his. His knuckles were chapped, his fingertips slightly rough, his touch reassuring.
“But I don’t know what happened.” He locked his eyes with hers. “I really don’t.” He shook his head as he withdrew his hand. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. Now you’re thinking the worst.”
“Um. I…yeah, I am thinking the worst. I’ve sunk everything into this house. I quit my job to start over as a writer.” Jess’s throat was suddenly dry. “And I haven’t written anything. If I can’t make a go of it here, I’m screwed.”
“I’m sorry. You were laughing. You sounded like you were having such a good time, I wanted to run out there and join you. And now look what I’ve done.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry I scared you,” he continued.
“No. It’s fine. I mean, if the place is haunted, it’s haunted whether you tell me about the last owner or not. Right?”
“Do you still want the stove brought into the house?”
Jess had forgotten about the stove. To continue to make that place her home now seemed ludicrous, and yet she did not have a choice. To move on would be to abandon her life before it even began. “Yes,” she said. “I’d like that.”
“It’s a pretty big job, I’m afraid.” Jess had left her sunglasses in the car and was squinting at Beckett and Dave, the OCD hardware organizer. They looked more comfortable with their baseball caps shielding their eyes. Jess had been expecting a high school kid; Dave was easily in his forties. He looked like he pumped as much iron as he
Perhaps Alice Munro was to blame. Perhaps the melting blue glaze on the coffee mug. Or even the fact that Beckett had said he enjoyed hearing her laugh. When he inquired about her house and her settling in, Jess told him about the red-haired woman in her bedroom. She told him about the lead toy cowboy and Shakti peeing in her crate and the woman watching her go to sleep before walking through the wall. She did not tell him about the vinegar or that Tyler had even been in her home. But she told him enough to feel a great relief at having told someone, and if he did not believe her, then he would only be her hardware salesman. There would be nothing much lost. When she finished talking, she lifted her gaze from the coffee mug and met his eyes.
He appeared deeply concerned. “You’ve gone white,” he said. “You’re really scared.”
Jess looked out the window at the brick kiln behind the studio. “I think…” She took a breath, preparing to say the words aloud for the first time. “…that my house is haunted.”
Beckett was quiet. He did not laugh or ridicule her, though in the time spent waiting for him to speak, Jess became nervous. Finally, he said, “I think that woman died in your house. Or on the property.” He closed his eyes and put his fingers to the center of his brow, then spread them out as though smoothing the lines from his forehead. “I don’t know what I’m talking about, but the woman who owned the house before you…I think she had some issues there.”
“Issues? Like a ghost? Like those kinds of issues?”
Shakti stood on the bench and shook herself, hairs flying from her back and drifting toward Jess’s open mug. She lifted her paws to the window sill and gazed outside. A squirrel bounding across the dirt yard caught her eye, and her ears lifted.
“I don’t know, Jess. What I heard was second-hand. I think that woman had big plans for renovating the house and then got scared away. But she couldn’t find a buyer fast enough, so she abandoned the house. Left it for the bank to foreclose on.”
Jess’s head raced with implications. If she was scared away…foreclosed on…
Beckett reached across the table to touch her hand and Jess startled. When her nerves settled, she was glad she hadn’t jerked her hand away from his. His knuckles were chapped, his fingertips slightly rough, his touch reassuring.
“But I don’t know what happened.” He locked his eyes with hers. “I really don’t.” He shook his head as he withdrew his hand. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. Now you’re thinking the worst.”
“Um. I…yeah, I am thinking the worst. I’ve sunk everything into this house. I quit my job to start over as a writer.” Jess’s throat was suddenly dry. “And I haven’t written anything. If I can’t make a go of it here, I’m screwed.”
“I’m sorry. You were laughing. You sounded like you were having such a good time, I wanted to run out there and join you. And now look what I’ve done.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry I scared you,” he continued.
“No. It’s fine. I mean, if the place is haunted, it’s haunted whether you tell me about the last owner or not. Right?”
“Do you still want the stove brought into the house?”
Jess had forgotten about the stove. To continue to make that place her home now seemed ludicrous, and yet she did not have a choice. To move on would be to abandon her life before it even began. “Yes,” she said. “I’d like that.”
“It’s a pretty big job, I’m afraid.” Jess had left her sunglasses in the car and was squinting at Beckett and Dave, the OCD hardware organizer. They looked more comfortable with their baseball caps shielding their eyes. Jess had been expecting a high school kid; Dave was easily in his forties. He looked like he pumped as much iron as he
Similar Books
