Phantoms Can Be Murder: Charlie Parker Mystery #13 Read Free

parking garage looking for any resemblance between
her and my father. Dad had been tall, straight and serious, with the receding
hairline that Ron inherited and the almost-formal demeanor that he’d acquired
as a doctor of science. His genetics were nowhere to be seen in Louisa. The
closest I could compare was to my brother Paul, who has the same coloring and
is slighter in build than Dad or Ron.
    Louisa moved like a small sprite,
turning her head to check the traffic, heading into the crosswalk with her swift
steps, glancing over her shoulder to be sure I was with her. By the time I’d
figured out that she was aiming for a small blue Ford and I’d incorrectly
headed for the wrong side of it, she’d popped open the trunk and hefted the
suitcase into it as if it were nothing.
    “There now,” she said with a
laugh. “I think we’re good to go.”
    I settled into the left-hand
front seat as she backed out and negotiated a completely confusing maze of
lanes and corners to take us out of the airport. The tires chirped as she reached
the on-ramp of some major thoroughfare.
    “Have you visited the UK before?”
she asked, once we’d joined the flow of traffic.
    I reoriented myself to the fact
that cars coming at us on the right was an okay thing, and told her a little
about the helicopter job Drake and I had taken in Scotland a couple years ago.
Aside from a quick pass through London on our way to Inverness, this was my
first time in England.
    By the time we reached the
outskirts of St. Edmundsbury township I’d learned that the town was named for
King Edmund, martyred in 869 AD, and that it had been a thriving marketplace
well before then. That Louisa was younger than my father by twenty years, that
she’d legally changed the spelling of her first name after a trip to Italy and
a romance with a charmer, and that the rolling fields we passed contained maize
and sugar beets. Her narrative was as erratic as her driving, but at least it
was informative. I still didn’t quite find out what had caused the rift between
the siblings but I was determined to learn that soon.
    We passed the sugar factory,
which I recognized immediately by the sticky-sweet smell that I remembered from
similar facilities in Hawaii where I’d met Drake. The streets narrowed as we
reached the older section of town, with an eclectic mixture of stone and brick
buildings whose doorways opened directly onto the narrow sidewalks. A medieval
arch appeared on our left.
    “The Abbey Gate,” Louisa
explained. “This part of the town has been inhabited since the Middle Ages.
We’ll take a walk through the Abbey Gardens in a bit, if you’re up to it.”
    A walk sounded like the perfect
antidote to the long hours confined in airplane and car, and I readily agreed
to the plan.
    “This is the Angel, here on the
right,” she said. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind and stay at my
house?”
    The Angel Hotel, where I’d made
reservations, had operated in its present location since 1452, an imposing
three stories of gray-brown stone completely covered in ivy with lush purple
petunias sprouting from planters beneath each window. When the plan was for
Drake to travel with me, it only seemed sensible to stay in a hotel rather than
impose on my aunt’s hospitality. Her offer was tempting but seeing the historic
building kind of took my breath away. I needed to experience this at least
once.
    Louisa sensed my hesitation and
pulled into the parking area in front of the hotel. “Here we are, then.”
    “I really appreciate your offer,”
I said. “They would have charged my account for at least one night anyway—”
    “Charlie, it’s absolutely not a
problem,” she said, switching off the ignition and turning toward me. “You will
love this place. And if you spend a night or two and want to switch, I’m sure
they can accommodate the change. My home is only about a ten minute walk from
here, and I work at the tourism office just that way—” She