Ghost Layer (The Ghost Seer Series Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

an angled lacquered floral screen of a pale blue. And
that’s
where Great-Aunt Sandra’s copper teapot had gone, along with a new coffeemaker. Clare approved.
    Miss.
The ghost of J. Dawson Hidgepath bowed before her, his bowler in his hand. He wore a new and elegant suit.
    Clare offered her hand. He took it and kissed her knuckles. She felt nothing but chill, no icy drops of spit or anything.
    “So, J. Dawson, what is your first name?”
    He smiled slyly.
It could be John. Or James. Perhaps Joseph or even Jedidiah.
He winked.
    Great, he wasn’t going to be forthcoming. Clare let loose a sigh, perched on the seat of a wing chair. “What do you need from me, J. Dawson?”
    He scowled, hovering close, but appearing distracted as he looked around the room.
This place is only as big as a cabin, and too fussy. I’m better outdoors. That’s why I left my family back East.
    “I’m not consorting with ghosts in my backyard,” Clare stated. The brick walls around her place were twelve feet high, but her neighbors’ homes were also two to three stories, with balconies in the back.
    Struggling for more courtesy so she could get this done fast, she said, “Ah, J. Dawson, tell me why you began leaving your bones around again, and at Mr. Laurentine’s.”
    Another sly smile.
He has pretty ladies at his house.
    “I’m sure he does.”
    Now the apparition looked serious.
And in the grayness of my existence, I . . . felt . . . the movement of Curly Wolf, how it bloomed again.
He placed a hand over his heart.
It stirred me.
    Mr. Laurentine would not want to hear that, and it was time to get to the bottom line. “You were murdered, J. Dawson?”
    He stopped floating around, clenched his fists.
Yes, someone pushed me off the trail!
    “I’m so sorry,” Clare said. And she was.
    Enzo whined and rubbed against J. Dawson, and that reminded her that if she wasn’t helping J. Dawson, she’d be struggling with some other ghost. She’d just hoped that the next big test of her very puny skills and limited understanding would have come later . . . maybe even a month later rather than a week.
    Gently, Clare said,
Your murderer must also be . . . gone by now.
    I want the truth!
His next words came with a fierceness that had ghostly spittle flying from his mouth.
I am a phantom, stuck in gray space, stuck in NOWHERE, mind being nibbled away by time until I am only shreds on the wind UNTIL YOU FIND ME THE TRUTH.
    Clare felt herself paling. “I
am
sorry, J. Dawson. I will do my best to help you, uh, pass on.”
    If she’d gone whiter, his aspect had gained a darker shade—embarrassment, she thought. His bowler appeared and he pulled it low over his head rather than tilting it at a jaunty angle.
My deepest apologies. I should not have raised my voice to you. I am ill-mannered and have behaved like a cad.
He made a jerky gesture of distress, then vanished.
    Clare tugged a strand of her hair. “That didn’t go well.” She wasn’t pleased with herself either. She stood. “I have so much to learn.”
    Enzo licked her hand, a cold swipe along her skin.
You did okay, Clare. I will help you!
    “Thank you, Enzo.”
    And this is a very nice space.
    “Yes.” She smiled. “But I can’t see Mr. Laurentine here, and I’m not inviting that man into my home. Home is for sanctuary.” She sensed she’d need every smidgeon of peace she could find while dealing with her gift for the rest of her life.
    •   •   •
    Clare let out a huge breath as she entered her wonderful and huge home by the modern kitchen . . . and went straight to the bar. She assembled a pitcher of margaritas, poured herself one, and wandered to the living room and the multipaned bay window, which curved out over the front yard.
    She was hoping Zach would drop by. It was evident that he wasn’t quite sure of their relationship, of bonds forged between them in danger and weirdness. Well, neither was she.
    Then his large, dusty black truck pulled into