Ghost Ups Her Game by Carolyn Hart (A Bailey Ruth Ghost Novel #9)
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 3.0 MB
New York Times bestselling author Carolyn Hart’s warm-hearted sleuth returns in the ninth Bailey Ruth Ghost Novel, with a case that will test even her Heavenly powers
After a busy morning dispatching emissaries from Heaven’s Department of Good Intentions to those in need, Bailey Ruth Raeburn is feeling flush with success. So when an urgent call for help comes through from her old hometown, she can’t resist taking on the mission herself. After all, what could go wrong?
With the shouted warning of her boss, Wiggins – “Irregular! Problematic!” – ringing in her ears, she arrives to face a shocking scene: Professor Iris Gallagher leaning over the corpse of her colleague Matt Lambert, the murder weapon clutched in her hand.
Bailey Ruth is only sent to help the innocent, but things are looking very black for Iris. With Wiggins breathing down her neck, and her old friend Police Chief Sam Cobb casting doubt on her every theory, Bailey Ruth must uncover the truth – or this could be the last trip to earth she’s ever allowed to make.
I regret to say my smile was patronizing. I was Bailey Ruth Raeburn, proven emissary and native of Adelaide. I knew the routine. What could go wrong? ‘I’ll take care of everything.’ I leapt for the caboose as the Rescue Express whooed and chugged. Coal smoke stung my eyes. Cinders flared. The wheels began to move. We were on our way. I gave a backward glance.
Wiggins stood on the platform, clearly distressed. ‘The Precepts,’ he shouted.
Poor Wiggins. He need have no fear. I would be on my best behavior. This time I’d aim to complete a mission without Appearing a single time. I felt noble. I lifted my hand in a jaunty wave.
The Express sped through the starry night, swathed in light from the Milky Way. I felt the same thrill I did as a child when listening to the radio and I heard the glad shout of the Lone Ranger. Since I was alone on the caboose, I let loose a lusty, ‘Bailey Ruth returns.’
In the last car, I slipped into a plush red seat next to a voluptuous blonde in a spangled dress. She was absorbed in Movie Mirror, the August 1935 issue with a picture of redheaded Myrna Loy on the cover, an actress I adored. Definitely this was a positive beginning to my journey. I wondered if the emissary would hobnob with Claudette Colbert or Clark Gable. They were so splendid in It Happened One Night. I was tempted to ask but she was immersed in the text.
The Rescue Express makes its run in Heavenly time, so I would shortly arrive where something was underway. Irregular. Problematic. Out of the ordinary. I read Wiggins’s hurried scrawl on the sheet he’d ripped from his notebook: Robert just passed the bar. Knows he’s an officer of the court. Could be disbarred. Might set a record. Attorney-at-law for one week. Iris is a—
The conductor took my ticket. ‘Next stop Adelaide.’
As the Rescue Express departed, I hovered above a large terrace near an open French door. I entered the room, surveyed it. Rather dull-looking volumes filled floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookcases. The furnishings, mostly brown leather sofas, several circular cherry-wood tables, and comfortable easy chairs in dull gray fabric, reminded me of a library reading room, but there were no magazines draped over an armrest. No reading glasses carelessly flung on a side table. No crumpled paper twists from discarded taffy wrappers.
A young man stared at a tall, slender older woman. She was elegant in a two-button lavender linen jacket. I admired three slash flap pockets. A cream polo matched cream slacks. Lavender rosettes studded her tall cream heels.