Ghostly Tours (Sweetfern Harbor Mystery Book 4) Read online

  Ghostly Tours

  Sweetfern Harbor Mystery #4

  Wendy Meadows

  Copyright © 2017 by Wendy Meadows

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Thanks for reading

  Be the First to Know

  About the Author

  Also by Wendy Meadows

  Chapter One

  Apparition

  Brenda Sheffield stood in the autumn sunlight filtering into the office of the Sheffield Bed and Breakfast and looked over the reservations with her young office manager, Allie Williams. She was pleased that the bed and breakfast was booked solid for the next two months. She was once again grateful for the business savvy her uncle Randolph had demonstrated when he established the business. Long before she became heir to Sheffield House, the reputation of the bed and breakfast was set and its guests knew it as a premier destination in the quaint New England coastal town of Sweetfern Harbor.

  As they discussed the upcoming autumn events, the younger woman looked up at Brenda with a glint of curiosity in her eyes. “Brenda, have you ever wondered whether this place is haunted?” Allie asked.

  Brenda hesitated. Allie seemed enthusiastic about the prospect, but it was an idea that she did not like to think about. Besides, she thought privately, she was sure she had never heard any talk of paranormal happenings in the 1880s Queen Anne mansion, and she liked it that way.

  “Oh, Allie, I doubt anything like that is here. That’s all a bunch of nonsense anyway…”

  “But don’t you think it would be fun, since Halloween is coming up?” The sixteen-year-old was persistent. “We could give candlelight tours and tell ghost stories.”

  Brenda dismissed the idea with a roll of her eyes. “I need to meet with Chef Morgan now.”

  As she made her way toward the kitchen, Brenda thought to herself that she had no idea why notions like that bothered her. It wasn’t as if she had ever encountered spirits here, or anywhere else, for that matter. She thought about the attic, which surely would be the first place to search for a ghost, if she believed in such things. Brenda had been to the attic plenty of times, going through her uncle’s trunks full of theatrical mementos as well as boxes of old business papers for the bed and breakfast. Nothing there hinted at ghosts unless notes in her uncle’s handwriting about a few quirky guests counted.

  But she knew it wasn’t the attic that bothered her. More than once Brenda had caught herself in a moment of heart-pounding uncertainty in the second-floor hallway, the hair on the back of her neck standing up as though someone were watching her, though it was deserted. She had chided herself for being silly or imaginative. But she could not imagine confessing that to Allie. She was embarrassed just remembering it, and quickened her steps as she walked down the back hallway.

  To her left, just before the kitchen, she saw her housekeeper Phyllis Lindsey with her fiancé William Pendleton, sitting together in the roomy hall alcove. The table before them overflowed with craft supplies. Phyllis was making new Halloween decorations to add to the ones they already had. William flirted with her, causing a faint blush to the older woman’s smooth cheeks. They looked up and greeted Brenda. Phyllis was a bit flustered, while William still had a twinkle in his eye.

  “When are you two going to get married? Think of the time you could spend together without hiding out in this alcove.” Brenda teased, laughing.

  “I would still be working here and he would still come in to pester me,” Phyllis chided William gently, her smile betraying her words.

  In the midst of their banter, they heard a commotion in the foyer area. A man’s voice was demanding someone immediately fetch their luggage from their room upstairs.

  “I’m not going back up there,” a woman’s voice added indignantly.

  Brenda hurried back to the front desk to find her guests Madeline and John McCormick confronting Allie.

  “What’s the problem?” Brenda asked. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

  It was then she saw that there was fear and not anger in her guests’ eyes. A fear that she felt sure she had seen in disgruntled guests before, she realized at that moment. But before she could chase down the memory, Allie was apologizing and checking the couple out. Brenda called over a passing housekeeper to bring the McCormicks’ luggage down for them. The young woman, a newer employee, hesitated at first but Brenda gave her a wordless look that brooked no disagreement, and so she quickly disappeared up the stairs.

  “You should warn your guests that this place is haunted,” Madeline scolded Allie. “There was something...some presence...in that room that did not want us there, I’ll tell you that. If we had known, we never would have booked that room.”

  Brenda felt a shiver go up her spine until her entire body felt as if she had dipped into a pool of ice water. She realized that the room the McCormicks had booked was the same one that had once been occupied by a famous star of the stage and screen. The actress Ellen Teague had been murdered in that room less than two years previous. It was a horrible crime, but she had instructed her staff to remain tight-lipped about where it had taken place. There was no way her guests could have known it took place there.

  Even after the housekeeper returned with their baggage, Madeline kept glancing up the stairway as if she expected to see something. Brenda told Allie to fully refund their money, but John scribbled his signature and grabbed their bags. The front door of the bed and breakfast banged open once in a gust of autumn wind as the McCormicks departed in haste. The last Brenda and Allie saw of them was the faint blur of their Toyota Rav-4.

  Phyllis and William peeked out from the back hallway, having watched the entire scenario. Allie looked at Brenda in excitement. “Well, maybe there really are ghosts here. Will you think about what I suggested now? Candlelight tours during Halloween would be so much fun.”

  Phyllis joined in the conversation. “It might be a smart move for the business. You will need money for your upcoming wedding, right Brenda? Perhaps some Halloween tours could help boost profits.”

  Brenda stared at her. “I just lost two repeat customers because of this nonsense. Surely you don’t think they actually saw a ghost up there, do you?”

  “Well, I don’t know what scared them. I just know that room could be a highlight of the tour. After all, Ellen Teague was famous,” Allie said. “That alone would bring more people in here. Who knows what secrets this place holds that we don’t even know about?” William watched Brenda as her two employees became more enthused about the idea. “We could make up some more stuff to make it all more interesting,” Allie said.

  Phyllis joined in and, as if no one else was around them, they began concocting stories of paranormal activities to entertain visitors. William kept his eyes on Brenda, who was deep in thought. Privately, William didn’t think any of it was such a bad idea. He knew Brenda’s uncle had established a goo
d business, and this kind of historical tour, with a hint of ghostly reality, could prove an excellent new source of revenue.

  Brenda finally spoke, seeing the excitement on everyone’s faces. “It’s true that after I am coming up short trying to put together a reasonable budget for Mac’s and my wedding. Perhaps candlelight tours on Halloween weekend is a good idea.” Allie opened her mouth to speak, but Brenda held up her hand. “I don’t want to embellish the ghost idea too much. There are plenty of clientele that come back year after year because they cherish the Sheffield Bed and Breakfast as a reminder of a kinder, gentler era of travel. They may not return here if they think we are turning to touristy gimmicks and letting everyone traipse through the rooms at odd hours of the night. If we’re going to do this, we have to do it right. So I will first research the history of this place and see what I can find that is authentic.” Allie beamed in excitement to hear this and Phyllis and William were also both pleased at her decision.

  “I doubt you’ll find much written down,” Phyllis cautioned Brenda. “Most stories about hauntings are passed down verbally and not necessarily in published books.”

  “Nevertheless, do not do anything about this until I speak with Mrs. Perch at the library.”

  William agreed it was a good idea to do that. “The entire history of Sweetfern Harbor is right there in the town library. You’ll find histories of every historic building, including this one.”

  That didn’t stop Allie and Phyllis from developing more ideas of their own. Brenda felt she could not listen to another word of their nonsense, but she was too polite to say so. All their fanciful stories only reminded her of the terrible murder that had happened at the bed and breakfast. She excused herself and went upstairs. She felt it was important to look at the room once occupied by Ellen Teague. Whatever the McCormicks had experienced surely had nothing to do with spirits or ghosts, she reminded herself firmly. One of the housekeepers, or Phyllis, would have told her if they had seen anything like that before.

  Even so, Brenda hesitated at the closed door. Pushing it open slowly, she noted the bed was in disarray. An iPad was left on the bedside table. She knew the guests had not eaten breakfast yet when they flew from the room. She picked up the device, planning to have Allie mail it to the McCormicks along with the refund they failed to take with them. The room was quiet enough that she could hear her own heartbeat in her ears.

  She scanned the perimeter of the room and noted with surprise that the door to the next room was ajar. These two rooms could be booked as a suite, but Brenda had installed a double lock on each side in case guests booked the rooms separately. There was a short corridor located between the rooms. It looked as if one of the McCormicks had opened the door on this side for some reason. She presumed it was out of curiosity and made a note to have the locks replaced with bolts that required a key, so future guests would not make the same mistake.

  Though she felt uncomfortable as she looked around the disturbed, silent room, Brenda saw nothing amiss. The temperature of the room seemed fine, and she checked the seals around the windows to make sure that no wind could have whistled in under the sash to make a frightening sound. The room was stubbornly, eerily normal.

  Brenda resolved to call the guests in a few days to get more details from them. She wanted to know exactly what they experienced. Hopefully, by that time, they would be more willing to explain their sudden departure. She closed the door to the room behind her and tried to shake it off.

  While getting ready to go to the library, Brenda thought about the importance of the reputation of the bed and breakfast. It would be a balancing act if she decided to open for a Halloween tour: to maintain the dignity and honor of the Sheffield legacy while still indulging the spirit of the festivities. She shook her head to clear it of unbidden thoughts of ghosts drifting through her beloved bed and breakfast.

  Brenda loved the beautiful Queen Anne mansion she had inherited. Its ornate gingerbread trim and wide porches, its gracious sitting room and stained-glass windows along the stairs, these were all details that she loved and that her guests cherished. The Victorian feel of Sheffield House was evoked with its polished floors and antique furnishings reflecting the era in which it had been built. As a child, she had visited here only once. Randolph had no children of his own and doted on his niece. The entire fourth floor was taken up by the sprawling interconnected rooms of the attic. He had showed her the toys kept there just for her and she easily lost herself in imagination while the adults visited three floors down. Only when her mother insisted she mind her manners and spend time with her uncle did she pull away from her fun.

  From the window of her second-floor apartment, Brenda took in the autumn colors of the trees that spread over the well-manicured back lawn. She edged closer to the window and her eyes lingered on the Adirondack chairs, musing over how many people had lounged there listening to the waves of the ocean lap against the stone wall below. How could anything sinister have ever happened in such serenity? Then she recalled the horrible murder that had happened only steps away from her apartment, in the second floor room where the famous actress had been staying that fateful summer. Ellen Teague’s lifeless body still appeared in sickening color before her at times, the image embedded in her head as if it just happened.

  Brenda closed her eyes briefly. To distract herself, she picked up her brush and ran it through her hair and tried to focus on the task at hand. Once ready, she returned downstairs.

  “I’ll be back in a couple of hours, Allie. I’ll see what I can find out at the library.”

  “I hope you find plenty of good stories,” Allie said. “If Ellen Teague’s room is haunted, who knows what else walks these hallways?”

  Brenda laughed and realized it sounded weak. She waved over her shoulder and headed out the door, her feet taking her down the hill toward Main Street. The lively town of Sweetfern Harbor never disappointed, and on her way she saw her friends who ran the eclectic little shops. Jenny Rivers, Mac’s daughter and owner of Jenny’s Blossoms, waved to her from the front window. Jenny stood up from an autumn bouquet she was arranging and motioned for Brenda to come in.

  “I haven’t seen you lately, Brenda, it’s so good to see you.” Jenny’s enthusiasm was contagious.

  “I see your Halloween décor is coming along. What brings that new sparkle to your eyes?”

  Jenny blushed and laughed a little. “I’m surprised my father didn’t tell you already. I have been dating Bryce Jones. I find him more and more attractive, and... I really like him, Brenda.”

  Brenda was glad for Jenny and relieved to know that Bryce had finally found someone closer to his age. Upon first arriving in town he had been unable to stop flirting with Brenda. Bryce was a Sweetfern Harbor native who had left to become a detective in Brooklyn. After a recent boat race had called upon both his sailing skills and his detective skills, he had decided to return to Sweetfern Harbor when offered a new position at the police department. Brenda still remembered how Mac’s jealousy came through when the younger detective tried to lure Brenda in his direction. She had had to remind Mac that Bryce was fifteen years-plus younger than she was. Not to mention that in her eyes, there was no other man except Mac, her fiancé, the love of her life.

  “You and Bryce will make a good pair. I’m happy for you, Jenny. Just remember he is a big flirt and won’t hold back with other women.”

  “I won’t let him get away with that,” said Jenny with a knowing smile that told Brenda that they had already tangled on that topic more than once. She was glad to know that her fiancé’s daughter was falling in love.

  As Brenda left Jenny, she was relieved to realize that there had been no mention of the guests who departed the bed and breakfast in such haste that morning. Working on Main Street and knowing everyone in town, Jenny was usually top-notch when it came to gathering gossip and passing it on like wildfire. She rivaled only the town mailman Pete Graham in that department.

  When Brenda spotted the library a
block away, she wished she had time to gather several books and settle in for a good read. As it was, the bed and breakfast kept her so busy she barely had time to take care of all the things she needed to do each day. She climbed the stone steps and opened the heavy door to the library, grateful to enter its quiet and hush after the blustery autumn winds outside.

  “Good morning, Brenda. Are you coming by to finally get that book club started?”

  The cheery voice came from Mrs. Perch. Her five-one stature caused her to appear minuscule behind the oak counter. When she spoke, the sixty-nine year old shifted her silver-rimmed glasses to the bridge of her nose, and her startlingly bright blue eyes gazed out with intelligence.

  “Hello, Mrs. Perch. I wish, but I think reading for pleasure will have to wait until the winter months. I promise I’ll get started then.” The librarian gave her an understanding look. “I’m actually here to research history on my bed and breakfast.”

  Mrs. Perch looked surprised. “I would think Randolph had kept that sort of information right there at Sheffield House.”

  “There is a lot of information there, but not the kind I’m looking for.” Mrs. Perch’s blue eyes grew wider. “I want to know authentic, personal history of the place. Such as...has it ever had any history of ghosts or anything like that?” Brenda hurried to explain her reasons. “We’re getting ready for the Halloween festivities in town and it seems appropriate to include anything along those lines that may make our entertainment more interesting.”

  Mrs. Perch’s face relaxed. “I think I know exactly what you’re looking for. I do have a couple of small volumes with some anecdotes that may be of interest. The books are mainly about local history, with a chapter about each building in town.” She got down from her stool behind the desk and paused a moment. “You can also access them from the computer if you don’t want to peruse the books themselves.”