The Ghost Wore Gray Read Online Free PDF

doesn’t know it. In fact, he generally doesn’t notice when a woman is interested in him, unless she just about hits him over the head.
    This is a problem, mostly because it makes him an easy target for the kind of woman who doesn’t mind hitting a guy over the head. That made Mona’s presence at dinner depressing; I get nervous when I see a woman about to sink her claws into my father.
    The older man and woman were a retired couple visiting from Canada. “Mr. and Mrs. Arnold Coleman,” said Baltimore, making the formal introduction.
    â€œPlease, please,” said Mr. Coleman, pushing back his chair and standing up to greet us. “Call us Arnie and Meg. We’ll be much more comfortable that way.”
    Arnie was as tall as Baltimore was short—“six foot five,” he told me later when I got up the courage to ask him. He had a head of thick, white hair, and that kind of leathery look that usually means a person has spent most of his or her life outdoors. Meg was small and cuddly. She made me think of the women who serve the church dinners I go to with my grandmother.
    â€œWell,” said Baltimore. “As soon as my wife and Mr. Markson arrive, we can begin.”
    I counted the seats again. “Isn’t there someone else coming?” I asked.
    He shook his head. “I like to set an extra place, just in case. It’s an innkeeper’s duty. Ah, here’s Mr. Markson!”
    Baltimore hurried to the door of the dining room, where the newcomer had just appeared. Taking the man by the arm, he steered him to the table and again introduced everyone.
    There was an awkward moment when Baltimore introduced my father.
    â€œAh,” said Mr. Markson, “the man who has my room.” His voice was quiet but slightly testy.
    Baltimore blushed and explained that there had been a mix-up and he had put my dad in the room that was normally reserved for Mr. Markson, who was a longtime customer of the inn.
    Dad offered to trade. Mr. Markson made a funny noise and told him not to worry about it, and the tension vanished.
    Aside from that instant of crankiness, Porter Markson struck me as being the most average man I’d ever seen—average height, average weight, average looks. His hair was kind of a medium brown, his clothes medium stylish. He seemed nice, but very forgettable.
    Gloria Cleveland, on the other hand, was a complete surprise. She appeared at the doorway of the dining room about five minutes after Porter Markson, and it was as if someone had turned on a light. After all the screeching we had heard from her that afternoon, Chris and I had figured she would be some kind of hag.
    Some hag! She was tall, blond, and gorgeous. Her dress looked like something from one of the nighttime soaps.
    â€œNo wonder he puts up with her,” Chris whispered.
    And, indeed, Baltimore seemed to glow at the sight of his lovely wife. “Well,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Our little party is finally complete.”
    As it turned out, he was wrong about that. The last guest didn’t show up until we were eating our dessert.
    That was when the ghost sat down in the empty chair—directly across from me.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Look Into My Eyes
    I was squishing peach melba between my teeth when the ghost showed up. I was so surprised I almost sprayed a mouthful of the stuff all over Mona Curtis. Fortunately, I kept it under control. Disgusted as I was at the way she was drooling over my father, I still knew that a shower of peach-raspberry goo wasn’t the way to handle the situation.
    I also know that dessert squishing is a disgusting habit. Fortunately, none of the grownups noticed it, mostly because they were so tied up in their own conversations. Besides, it wasn’t just habit that night. I was doing it out of frustration. For the last hour and a half, I had been watching Mona circle my father like a vulture circles a wounded rabbit. And I still