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  Ghostly Trails

  Sunnyside Retired Witches Community, Volume 0

  Paula Lester

  Published by Paula Lester, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  GHOSTLY TRAILS

  First edition. March 21, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Paula Lester.

  Written by Paula Lester.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Works by Paula Lester

  Chapter 1

  “What in the world is going on?” Zoey Rivers’ eyes widened, unsure what was happening right in front of them. She’d seen a lot of things in her life, but this was one of the wildest.

  “Um. I think they’re playing badminton,” Steve Grace said, craning his neck and shading his eyes to see better.

  “But they’re not on the ground.” Zoey’s voice squeaked, and she knew it meant panic was hovering close by.

  “Nope,” Steve agreed.

  Over the expansive green lawn and delicate landscaping of the retirement home’s backyard, five elderly people and a net floated about fifteen feet in the air. Each retiree held a racket, and they were all leaping, twirling, and somersaulting in the air while chasing and batting at the birdie.

  Zoey pressed her lips together and forced her eyes back to the ground, sweeping her gaze to and fro. “Who’s doing the incantation? That has to be what it is—a spell wouldn’t do this.”

  Her eyes came to rest on an elderly woman reclining in a lawn chair. She wore dark sunglasses and seemed to be looking up at the floating players above her. Her mouth was moving slightly but constantly. “There,” Zoey said firmly, pointing. “It’s Shawna.”

  “Of course it is.” Steve’s voice was heavy. “It’s always Shawna.”

  Zoey began to march toward the reclined woman. But before she got there, Shawna Belle spilled the glass of lemonade with ice she held all over her lap. She shrieked and leaped off the lawn chair, brushing at her legs. And she also stopped chanting.

  All five people in the air began to drop like lead. Zoe whirled around, throwing her hands out and reciting a hasty spell. The falling folks all bounced as though they’d hit an invisible rubber mat and shot back into the air where they tumbled and flipped, their faces covered with shock.

  After they’d bounced, lower and lower, a few times, the aerial retirees finally came to rest standing on the ground.

  “Nice work, boss. That could have been a disaster,” Steve said.

  Zoey sighed, glancing at the small group of elderly people who stood huddled together, talking in low tones to each other. “Whose idea was it to play badminton in mid-air?” Zoey demanded in a loud, clear voice.

  Shawna, always the ringleader of the group’s misdeeds, stepped forward, chin held high. She was a beautiful older woman. Her gray hair, fixed as it always was in a mid-height, loose bun, set off her ice-blue eyes, which were sharp and undulled by the years. “I don’t know who thought of it originally,” she said. “But we all wanted to do it. We like to be active and do fun stuff. Not the lame-o activities that so-called Social Director you hired plans for us. She seems to want our joints to freeze like rocks while we sit and play card games or watch movies all day, every day.”

  Zoey sighed. She knew the new Social Director, Courtney Close, didn’t come up with the most exciting activities for the residents of Sunnyside Retired Witches Community. But the young lady was fresh out of college and eager to do a good job. She just needed more time. “I’ll talk to Miss Close,” she said. “But in the meantime, you guys can’t go making your own fun like this.” She waved a hand behind her at the now-empty air where they’d been playing. “Someone could get hurt.”

  Shawna chewed at the inside of her cheek but tried to maintain her defiance by straightening her shoulders. The other witches behind her had suddenly become quite interested in staring at the ground and shuffling their feet.

  “How about you play some badminton on the ground?” Steve suggested. “Here, I’ll make it easier for you.” He adjusted his rectangular, black-rimmed glasses, straightened to his full height of six feet, two inches, and stepped forward, eyeing the expanse of lawn critically. Zoey stepped back and held her arms out from her sides to keep the residents behind her while the man worked. Finally, Steve lifted a hand, mumbled a few words, and gave a snap of his wrist. A huge, thick mat appeared, the badminton net right in the center of it. He turned around, smiled, and waved his hand toward the newly-made court with a flourish. “There you go. That will be easier on your joints and muscles and safer if you fall. And you don’t have to hover in the air. Have fun.”

  The residents murmured to each other, all smiles, as they moved forward and reignited their game, feet now firmly planted on the mat. Shawna frowned a little, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she returned to her lawn chair, brushed it off, and sat down to watch the game.

  “Thanks, Steve.” Holding her clipboard up to see what she was supposed to do next, Zoey turned and headed for the building, her assistant keeping stride. “Another crisis successfully averted!” she said in her best superhero voice while pumping a fist in the air.

  “It’s definitely more than a full-time job to keep them safe and out of mischief.” Steve rubbed a hand over his close-cropped black hair.

  “Sure is. I couldn’t do it without you, that’s for sure.” Zoey glanced at him and grinned before studying her clipboard again as he held the back door open for her. They entered the retirement home and started down the hallway toward the kitchen. “I have to go out and get some groceries. Can you handle things for an hour or so?”

  Steve nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll just take my laptop out to the back yard and keep an eye on them while I work on the monthly bills.”

  “Thanks. Hey, how was your date last night?”

  Steve shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

  Zoey studied her friend. He looked like he wanted to avoid the subject, so of course, she had to press it. “Are you going to ask her out for a second date?”

  “I don’t think so.” Steve entered the kitchen and Zoey followed. “We didn’t really click. She’s a clairvoyant, and she was talking to ghosts all evening. Said my grandfather was there and he wanted me to find a nice, stable medium to marry. It was pretty uncomfortable.”

  “You don’t think it was true?”

  Steve rolled his eyes, a pained look on his face. “Both of my grandfathers are still alive.”

  Zoey choked back a laugh. At Steve’s sharp look, she tried to force her face straight but failed. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. Time to change the subject. “Hey, Susan. Do you have a grocery list for me?”

  The cook turned around from where she’d been stirring something on the stove. She wore a hot pink apron and matching hairnet, which clashed with her sour personality. Susan was sixty years old, and Zoey thought the woman secretly wished she could just be a resident at the Community instead of having to continue working there for another five years.

  And why shouldn’t she? The place was nice. Sunnyside, California spared no expense in creating the perfect place for the town’s elderly witch population to spend their retirement years. The first floor of the building was dedicated to a huge commercial kitchen, three large, comfortable sitting rooms, and the residents’ bedrooms. The second floor had seven large suites where some of the staff, including Zoey and Steve, lived in comfort—for free as part of their salaries.r />
  Zoey was pretty happy as Head of Staff. At twenty-eight years old, she was the youngest one the Community had ever had, but she’d worked hard to gain the trust of her fellow townspeople, and everyone liked her.

  And that was saying a lot considering who her mother was.

  “Yes, I have a list.” Susan wiped her hands on the apron and grabbed a piece of paper off the perfectly shiny, fingerprint-free, stainless steel refrigerator. She handed it to Zoey without a smile. “Don’t forget we have the big monthly dinner for the residents’ families on Saturday, so we’ll need extras for that meal.”

  Zoey nodded. “Got it.” She gave Susan a bright smile. “Thank you. I’ll be back with this stuff in an hour or so.”

  Susan didn’t answer—she just turned back to the stove.

  Zoey frowned slightly, doing her best to ignore the irritated feeling interacting with Susan always left her with. Most people didn’t care if there were a few folks in their life they couldn’t win over, but Zoey was different. She’d pretty much made it her mission in life to be everyone’s friend, and it irked her to be unable to get past Susan’s cranky exterior.

  Maybe when the cook retired and became a resident, Zoey would be able to make her smile. The thought cheered her up. She waved goodbye to Steve, who was making himself a sandwich while Susan glared at him and followed him around with a cloth wiping down everything he touched.

  As she crossed the lobby, Zoey stopped to stick her head through the doorway of the receptionist’s small office, which sat in view of the building’s front door. “Good morning,” she said. “Anything I need to know about before I head out for an hour or two?”

  Kelli Perry wasn’t the best receptionist in the world. In fact, she had a tendency to lose messages and disappear from her office for long periods of time, leaving visitors wandering around the building searching for their elders. But she had air magic, and when Zoey was interviewing people for the position the year before, the building’s air conditioner had been on the fritz. Everyone was miserable, and Zoey felt like she was melting. When Kelli had appeared for her interview, she’d realized their air was off and instantly used her magic to cool the place down. The relief was so intense that Zoey, usually practical and careful with her hiring decisions, had hired the young woman on the spot. And she hadn’t regretted it for a moment.

  Kelli wasn’t a great receptionist, but she was a tremendous air conditioner.

  When she saw Zoey in her doorway, Kelli smiled, her voluptuous lips perfectly plumped with a lovely shade of rose lipstick. She could have been a supermodel or an actress at five foot ten, with flowing dark hair that reached her waist and perfectly tanned legs that went on forever. She loved dressing the part too—almost always wearing heels, a short skirt, and a shirt with a plunging neckline.

  “Oh, wait!” Kelli said suddenly, lifting her forefinger into the air. “I just took a call for you.” Her eyes scanned the desk in front of her and then her hands got in on the hunt. Papers rustled, some falling on the floor, and Zoey moved in to pick them up. She glanced at each of them to see if they held anything she should know before placing them in a neat pile on the corner of the desk. “Who was that?” Kelli looked frantic for a second, but then her eyes fell on the right piece of paper and her face smoothed out. “There it is,” she said. “It was Luke. He wants you to call him back immediately or sooner.” She rolled her eyes as she handed Zoey the tiny slip of paper. “Whatever that means,” she mumbled.

  “Luke Kellen?” Zoey asked, her pulse picking up a bit. At Kelli’s nod, Zoey turned on her heel and headed outside. Over her shoulder, she called to the receptionist, “Could you please tell Susan I’m going to be a little longer getting the groceries than I thought?”

  “Sure.” Kelli waved a hand at Zoe and turned the page of a magazine that had somehow appeared in front of her.

  Zoey sighed. That message would likely never make it to Susan. She’d probably have to face an angry cook later. But that didn’t matter now. She glanced at the paper in her hand, which read, in Kelli’s haphazard chicken scratch handwriting: Luke—return call right away—homicide under strange circumstances—needs consult with Zoey.

  Chapter 2

  A thrill went through Zoey as she read the words. Groceries, and everything else, would have to wait. It wasn’t every day the Sunnyside Special Detective in Charge of Homicides called for her assistance.

  Luke didn’t have much to say when Zoey used her cell phone to call him back other than he’d like her input on a strange murder investigation. He gave her the address and hung up.

  Zoey wondered if she should take her car so she could do the grocery run afterward, but it was a lovely morning. The heat of the day hadn’t hit yet, and a walk would help calm the butterflies flitting around in her stomach before she got to the crime scene. She texted Steve to tell him she needed to run a different errand, asked him to get the groceries, and went back into the building to leave the list for him to pick up from Kelli. Then she headed out to walk to the address Luke had given her.

  The Sunnyside Retirement Community building had a big looped driveway with landscaping in the center, and Zoey cut through it to get to the small street at the end of the driveway, hoping the gardener wouldn’t catch her. Cyrus was touchy about his beds.

  Sunnyside’s downtown was less than five minutes away at a brisk walk, and she was headed to a spot right on its eastern outskirts. She’d be there in ten minutes at the most.

  As she walked, Zoey thought about Luke. She’d gone to high school with him, and they’d run in some of the same circles. Mainly the debate and chess clubs. But he’d also been into sports and became a cop soon after graduation, while Zoey went into Administration and then got her job at Sunnyside. Luke had risen through the ranks of the Sunnyside Police Department quickly and made the rank of detective after an unprecedentedly short four years. It was only two more before he was put in charge of the homicide division.

  Luke was sharp-witted and tough, and he didn’t ask for outside help too often. He wasn’t a strong witch, but he had a way of telling whether people were lying that helped him do his job. Still, sometimes, he did need a hand—usually when there was something odd about a crime, magically speaking.

  When she got to Sunnyside’s busy downtown, Zoey forced herself to pay attention to her surroundings, pushing thoughts of Luke and what she might see when she arrived at the murder scene out of her mind. She didn’t want to get run over by a car or something because she wasn’t paying enough attention.

  Sunnyside was a supernatural community. That wasn’t to say everyone was magical. Most were, but some had more peripheral ties to the paranormal, offering goods or services that only witches could use.

  Non-magical folks did travel through the town, of course, so people couldn’t just do magic willy-nilly in their front yard.

  They had to do it inside or tucked away in the backyard.

  Of course, people forgot sometimes, and as she passed through the downtown area, Zoey saw old Harold standing outside his hardware shop looking at a newspaper while a broom swept the sidewalk for him.

  Zoey knew which house she was heading toward as soon as she turned onto the correct street before she even checked the address. Three police cruisers were parked on the street in front of it, and a small cluster of people gathered just outside the bright yellow caution tape at the end of the driveway. The house was an unassuming brick ranch with trimmed grass and perfectly straight hedges.

  When Zoey reached the driveway, she waved to an officer, who came over to see what she wanted. “I’m Zoey Rivers. Luke’s expecting me.” Excitement filled her as the officer nodded and held the caution tape up so she could duck under it. It gave her a small flash of pride to be invited into the crime scene.

  The front door of the house stood open, and Zoey poked her head in, relieved when Luke saw her right away and crossed the floor to greet her. “Don’t touch anything,” he warned. “We’re still photographing, finger-printing
, and collecting.”

  Zoey nodded, looking around nervously. Luke seemed to understand her concern. “The body’s been removed already.”

  A breath she hadn’t known she was holding escaped from her lungs, and she stepped into the house, finding herself in a big living room with a hallway leading out from each side. A couch stood directly across from her and the room’s big front picture window. A glass coffee table in front of the couch was shattered into a million pieces. Zoey swallowed hard when she saw the blood on some of the shards.

  “Her name was Demi Hill.” Luke ran a hand through thick, wavy brown hair that flopped over his forehead and ears. He’d never been one to be impeccable with his grooming—always leaving haircuts for when he wasn’t busy, which was rare. But he was handsome, with piercing blue eyes and a chin dimple. “We didn’t find a murder weapon, but it looks like a crime of passion to me.” Speaking softer, he said, “She was stabbed or maybe clawed. There was a struggle.”

  Zoey glanced around and knew Luke was right. Besides the shattered coffee table, an area rug near the fireplace at one end of the room was crumpled, a side table sat overturned, its contents scattered over the floor, and a blanket on the back of the couch was partially torn down. A pair of broken glasses lay on the couch, the frames bent at an odd angle. Next to the fireplace, a bookshelf looked like it had been crashed into, and several books were on the floor.

  “No signs of a break-in, though,” Luke continued. “Door was locked. Not the deadbolt, but the doorknob lock, and it wasn’t forced.”

  Zoey walked farther into the room, careful not to brush against or disturb anything. The forensic group was there, dressed in suits and gloves, scouring and bagging everything. Someone picked up the glasses as she watched, stuffed them in a plastic bag, and lowered them into a plastic tub full of other bagged items.