Walking with Ghosts - A Honey Driver Murder Mystery (Honey Driver Mysteries) by Jean G. Goodhind

Sweden. Arne differed from the usual golden image by being dark-eyed and dark-haired. His wife had legs up to her shoulders and white blonde hair that reach her waist. She fitted the Nordic image admirably.
    ‘It was so atmospheric,’ breathed his wife, an ample cleavage peeping above three pearl buttons. ‘It made me tingle all over.’ She accompanied her dulcet tone with a jiggling motion. Her boobs wobbled like jellies. The words ‘my cup overfloweth’ came to Honey’s mind. Or, in this case, cups. Steve looked willing to apply the ‘waste not, want not’ principle and lap up the overflow.
    She butted in.
    ‘Did you see anything – anyone at all?’
    Mrs Karvik gave her husband’s leg a quick squeeze. ‘We lost ourselves in the atmosphere, did we not, Arne? We are so sensitive to atmosphere,’ she said, facing forwards again, her words slow and voice throaty. ‘We felt sure we were in the presence of spirits. It turned so cold at times that I tingled all over.’
    Honey did not voice her opinion that this was probably due to the fact that the wind had been freezing cold and it had been peeing it down.
    Once Steve had regained control of his jaw he said they could go, but must leave their address while here in the UK and that of their home in Norway.
    ‘You let them off lightly,’ said Honey.
    Steve did a series of shifty movements and studied the doodles on his notepad as though they had hidden meaning. Most of them were balloons with large nipple-like dots in the middle.
    Honey tutted. Steve took umbrage.
    ‘I only said you could attend, not take over,’ he warned  while they awaited their next appointment. ‘Anyway, your judgement was impaired as far as the Karviks were concerned. Your green-eyed monster was showing.’
    ‘And you, Sherlock, were on Planet Testosterone!’
    Of course he was, but being a man he was in denial. ‘I was just being attentive.’
    ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. And she was just being friendly. If that cleavage had been any deeper you could have dived in, never to be seen again.’
    ‘What a way to go!’
    Jan Kowalski walked in minus his rain cape. Green shirt, camouflage trousers, and a black leather jacket. His hair was cut short. He read his introduction from a sheet of paper folded into four. He held it at arm’s-length. ‘I am from Gdańsk. I am a student of Internet communications. I am looking for work.’ He passed the piece of paper across to them. ‘My details.’
    It was on the tip of Honey’s tongue to ask what sort of work he was expecting to get on a ghost walk. Was the spirit world hiring IT  whiz-kids at the moment? She imagined names for the Internet search engines and websites. Surfing for Spooks? Internet Intangibles? World Wide Weirdos? The last one was probably already taken, she decided. There were plenty of weirdos already out there.
    Steve asked him how long he was staying in the country. Jan confirmed that if he didn’t get work within the next two weeks, he would be returning home.
    Honey asked him why he went on a ghost walk.
    ‘Someone sent me a text message. Said they would meet me there and discuss work they could offer me.’
    ‘And they didn’t turn up?’
    ‘No.’
    He confirmed that he was looking for any kind of work. He seemed a likeable, presentable young man. Honey took his name and address. According to the sheet of paper he was staying at a youth hostel. Honey considered. At present she was fully staffed, but twenty-four hours was a long time in the catering industry.
    ‘Keep in touch,’ she said, handing him her card at the same time as explaining the situation.
    His face lit up with pleasure as he took and pocketed her card.
    ‘Thank you. Thank you very much.’
    He prepared to leave.
    ‘Just a moment,’ said Steve. ‘I need you to make a statement. No need for you to write it. I’ll write it, read it out, and you can sign it.’
    For the briefest of moments, Honey perceived fear flash into the dark brown eyes. It was