The Girl with the Uninvited Ghost: Pandemonium Cozy Mystery #1

Chapter 18

After leaving Tony's, Mahogany headed back to the Haughty Hemlock, where Neema put her to work dusting the shop's jar-lined shelves. While she rid the place of dust, Neema helped a customer, and Guy belted show tunes from a musical unfamiliar to Mahogany. At least she thought it was a musical.

"I'm just so happy I found you," the woman of about forty gushed as Neema placed her purchases in a paper boutique bag. "Ever since the plane flight, my stomach hasn't been the same. I've learned my lesson – never order the fish on an airplane."

"The tummy tea and the mint drops should do the trick," Neema said with a polite smile. She pushed the bag across the glass display counter. "Please come see us again if you need anything else."

The woman took the bag and thanked Neema again. Mahogany watched her leave from the corner of her eye. The woman's attire screamed 1950s office chic. She wore a light pink silk mock turtleneck fashioned with a pearl button at the back. Her gray wool tea-length pencil skirt swished as she shuffled out the door. Her pointy stilettos clicked over the polished tiles—glints of sequins twinkled as she walked.

"What was wrong with her?" Mahogany nodded to the closing door after the woman.

"Oh, she seems to have picked up something on her way into town," Neema said, replacing the glass jars she'd used to fill the women's request. "You know how plane travel can be. Everyone trapped together at 35,000 feet, breathing the same recycled air."

Mahogany glared at Neema, her feather duster poised over the next jar on the shelf. "I wouldn't have a clue," she said. After Neema had stolen Mahogany and brought her across the country to Pandemonium, they hadn't left since. Sure, there had been day trips to the beach, hikes in the national forest, and wine tasting at local wineries, but anything farther from home had been out of the question. When Mahogany had brought up the topic of college, Neema had shut her down, disallowing her to pursue higher education outside of Pandemonium. This relegated Mahogany to online courses and lectures at the local library. After a year of this, she'd given up her dreams of leaving Pandemonium and living a semi-normal life most humans take for granted.

"Finish up in here, and then you can dust the living room," Neema said over her shoulder, ignoring Mahogany's comment.

"Yes, ma'am," Mahogany said under her breath.

Thirty minutes later, Mahogany found herself wiping away a week's worth of dust from the coffee table, her gaze returning over and over to the writing desk. She had persuaded Guy to remain in the store while she worked. The distance wasn't great enough for the spiritual bungee to activate. Mahogany just needed a few minutes of peace from Guy's catalog of off-Broadway tunes.

She moved from the coffee table to the end table nearest the desk. She gave it a cursory swipe with the duster and moved to the antique writing desk. Mahogany flitted the feathers, sending dust into the air where it settled once again on the dark, cherry wood.

Mahogany peered through the doorway into the kitchen and listened. Neema's smoky voice drifted in from the Haughty Hemlock. She assured someone her hair tonic would leave their locks luxurious and manageable.

Mahogany turned her attention back to the desk. Stacked atop one another were two sets of envelope-sized drawers. A small cupboard separated the drawers. A smooth leather-covered writing area lay over a large drawer filled with odds and ends.

Focused on the small bottom drawer on the right side, Mahogany tugged at the round brass knob, hoping it would slide open. But it didn't budge. Mahogany searched the other drawers for something to pick the lock. After a moment, she found a small screwdriver intended for eyeglasses.

She slid the screwdriver into the lock and swiveled it around as she'd seen private investigators do on television to no avail. With a sigh, Mahogany stood, making a mental note to learn the art of lock picking.