Read Christmas Spirit (The Middle-aged Ghost Whisperer Book 1): (Ghost Cozy Mystery series) for Free Online Page A

all.
    “Cyclops,” Alum said thoughtfully. “I don’t know what it means.”
    “I thought it might be the name of a police operation, ‘Operation Cyclops’ or something like that?”
    Alum laughed. “Not as far as I know, but my memory has been bad since I died. Are you sure it has to do with the case?”
    I thought for a moment. “No,” I admitted. “It could be something else, but I could feel Brady there. He didn’t come through as such, just to project the impression that he had been murdered, but then the word ‘Cyclops’ did come through loud and clear. I don’t know how to explain it properly. It’s hard to explain a paranormal experience.”
    “Well, I’m glad I’m able to see and talk to you,” Alum said. “Playing ghost Pictionary doesn’t sound like too much fun.”
    I knew he was just trying to make me smile, but to tell the truth, he had hit the nail on the head. Sometimes it was exasperating getting feelings and images, glimpses into a world about which I knew nothing.
    “Well, perhaps something will come up,” he added.
    I nodded. “I thought it might be a computer password, perhaps to Jason Taylor’s computer, or something like that.”
    Alum’s eyes lit up. “You know, that makes sense. You might be onto something there.”
    “Perhaps Brady discovered it, and that’s why he was killed.”
    Alum wagged his finger at me, and his expression turned solemn. “And speaking of such things, I wanted you to help me by googling stuff, not actually going out and interviewing family members. That could be dangerous.” He stopped talking and looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, I feel myself leaving.”
    I lifted my hand in a small wave, but he had already vanished. The cats reappeared, and finished their food, politely—no squabbles this time. I made a cup of tea and took it back to the living room. I soon felt better. There’s nothing like a nice cup of hot tea.
    I turned on the TV and tried to find something to watch on Netflix while I drank my tea, but the usual shows I liked to watch were only serving to make me tense. I gave up and lay back on the sofa. Soon the two cats jumped on top of me, with Lily kneading me with her claws. I carefully picked her little paws from my leg as I turned the word ‘Cyclops’ over and over in my mind.
    But I didn’t know how it fitted, and I didn’t know how it was related to a man’s death. It was just a strange word, a mythical creature of the Greeks, or a flamboyantly dressed superhero. Neither made sense.
    I had thought going to the cabin would make things clearer, but it had done nothing but muddy my vision. And there was no time for that: the guests would be here soon. I had already cleaned the house and filled the refrigerator and the cupboards with all manner of food. I had wine for Uncle Tim and Christina, both of whom were rather fond of the stuff.
    Every Christmas, I had psyched myself up to enjoy the time with the relatives, but something always went wrong. I wasn’t delusional enough to think that this year would be any different.
     
     

Chapter 8
     
    “Merry Christmas!” My friend, Barbara, toasted me with her wine glass.
    Constance snorted rudely. “It’s only Christmas Eve, Barbara.”
    Barbara looked puzzled. “So?”
    Constance waved her wine glass at her. “You cannot say ‘Merry Christmas’ to someone on Christmas Eve. That never happens in polite society, and I should know, as I’m a socialite.”
    “Well, I can if I want to,” Barbara said sulkily.
    My third friend, Iris, held up her wine glass. “It’s good to know that some things get better with age. It’s too bad we can’t age as well as wine. It’s not easy getting old.”
    I slowly swirled the liquid inside my wine glass. I had known Iris since I was thirty, and she had thought we were old at that age. I resisted the urge to tell her that we were nowhere near old yet, because that would have provoked a whole evening of talk about her aches and pains.