When the Spirit Moves

By Leslie O'Kane

With mixed feelings, Tera Westbrook puts her mother’s house on the market. No sooner does Tera’s realtor assure her that she won’t need to deal with potential buyers, than she is ambushed at a grocery store by a couple who want her house on their cable show. The top seller at the realty brokerage pressures Tera to sign with him. As mayhem continues, her mother’s ghost appears. Minutes later, they find the body of the house inspector. Someone closer to Peggy will be the next victim. But who?

• Language: English
• Publisher: NYLA
• Release date: Oct 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9781641972789

Leslie O'Kane

Leslie O’Kane has written 28 novels in which at least one crime takes place. Many years ago, she was taken hostage in a robbery by an irate customer afterhours at the bar where she was head waitress. Leslie’s first thought was: “This guy is taking missing last call way too seriously.” That made her laugh, which in turn made the robber strike her with his shotgun. The experience taught her that writing about crimes is much more fun than taking part in them. She lives in Boulder, Colorado, with her husband and their Cocker Spaniel.

Book preview

Chapter One

T era? It’s me. Your mom. Wake up.

Startled, Tera Westbrook gasped and sat up in bed. Mom? She waited, hearing nothing except Vance’s soft snores. Mom? she said in a much louder voice.

Guh, her husband grunted. Bae? You okay? Vance turned his head toward her. The poor guy had only fallen asleep three hours ago. He had recently risen in the ranks from a police officer to a detective, which meant he was lowest on the totem pole when it came to his work schedule.

I’m fine, Vance. Just a dream. Go back to sleep. She counted to ten. He was already snoring when she reached five, but she wanted to make sure she didn’t wake him as she slowly slid out of bed and tiptoed out of the room.

Are you here, Mom? she asked, softening her voice again. She rubbed her eyes. Maybe it really was just a dream. There was no solid reason for her mother to come to her house. She called Mom again and checked the two unoccupied bedrooms, then trotted down the stairs to search the remaining rooms, including the closets. Still no sign of her.

She grabbed her cellphone and googled: false visions or voices when half asleep. Google reported that the official name for this was hypnogogic hallucinations. Seventy percent of people experienced that at least once in their lives.

The problem with that information was that she was actually fast asleep when she’d heard her mother’s voice. She should have asked Google about hallucinations that woke people up. Furthermore, six months ago, her mother had been murdered and came back as a ghost, so it was not out of the range of possibility that her mother had indeed talked to her. Tera was quite certain that the percentage of having at least one ghost in the family was nowhere near the seventieth percentile.

She wanted to curl up in bed with Vance. They liked to keep the house at a brisk 58 degrees after midnight, which was a wonderful snuggle-in-bed temperature but made for a dreadful wander-around-the-house-looking-for-a-ghost temperature. Nevertheless, she decided to call for her mom one last time.

Mom? she said in a full speaking voice. Are you here?

Not really, Peggy, her mother, replied quietly.

What does that mean? Tera asked. Are you just…projecting your voice or something?

Not exactly. I was in my typical, peaceful state of…vaporization when…. Hmm. Should I maybe call my nighttime state ‘dispersion?’ I still am dispersed, as a matter of fact. I can’t see anything. It’s all just blackness. Like I’m in a deep, dark cave. Yet for some reason, a strong sensation came over me that something was wrong, so I tried to wake you up."

You succeeded. And now we can hear each other’s voice.

Right. But we can’t see each other. Which means I’m experiencing yet another new state-of-being. It’s perplexing. How did I even know you were asleep? I really wish the ghost kingdom would hold So-Now-You’re-a-Ghost intro classes. My afterlife could probably be a whole lot more productive if— She paused. Oh shoot! What’s the matter with me? I’m just prattling on and on. You’re not in danger, are you, sweetie?

Tera spread her arms and looked around. It was still dark in the house, though she could make out the basic, familiar shapes—the walls, the furniture, the entrance to the kitchen. Not as far as I know. But…maybe you know more about the future than I do. Do you think this was a legitimate warning signal about me?

It sure put a scare in me at first. But on the other hand, if you really are in deep doodoo, for lack of a better word, I have to assume I would fully materialize, like I did the first time. You merely hearing my voice does nothing for either of us.

But when you became a ghost, I first heard your voice, and a few minutes later, there you were in my Yoga class.

True, but it feels different this time. Less urgent. I am going to chock this up to my mother-ghost skills being off kilter. Go back to sleep, dear. I’ll bet it was some fluke that we rookie ghosts don’t realize we should ignore. Such as that our souls coincidentally happened to think about each other at precisely the same moment.

Tera doubted that theory. She had been thinking about her mother for months now, and even after her death, Peggy had remained a doting mother. Logically, there should have been countless times when they thought about each other at the same time. Could I still be asleep, maybe? Dreaming that I’m talking to you?

Silence. Peggy? she called in a half whisper. Her heart-beat rate increased. At least in that one moment, she would be willing to strike a Faustian bargain—to have her own life be in danger just to see her mother’s smile one more time, even as a ghost.

Shaken, Tera sat down on the bottom step of the staircase. Most likely, this whole episode was due to the stress she was under now that she’d put her childhood home on the market. The loathsome task had to be done, though. She’d already stalled for six months. Though she’d never admitted it to Vance, she’d been afraid that selling her mother’s house would mean her mother’s ghost would never reappear. Oh shoot! Tera muttered to herself. I missed the opportunity to tell Mom that I put her house up for sale. She’d chosen the first week of December, but with the listing just two days away—ignoring that this was after midnight—she felt like she should have waited until after Christmas. She’d made it clear that she would wait at least a full week from the listing date until she accepted an offer. She didn’t want eager buyers to get caught up in the Christmas-buying spirit, only to realize that they’d just purchased a home where a violent murder had recently occurred. Tera’s general goal was to hang on to her own happy memories and pass along her childhood home to a buyer with the confidence and optimism to create their own happy memories.

It’s too late to push back the date now. Her agent had said she’d already received two offers. Tera was starting to shiver. Something bad was going to happen. She could feel it in her bones. If not her heart. She stood up and climbed the stairs.

Well, nothing good happens in the wee hours of the morning, dear.

She froze. Her mother used to say that. She had heard her mother’s voice in her head.

"Mom? Can you hear me?"

She waited a few seconds, hoping that her mother would be able to read her mind. No response.

Chapter Two

Much later that day, Tera’s realtor, Kateri Hauser, entered Yoga Barre Studio just as Tera was in the process of locking up. Tera grinned. You’re just a little bit late to class today, she said.

Am I? Kateri replied, feigning surprise. Sorry I missed class. But it was for a great reason. I only just now got through checking out two more solid offers on the house. She handed Tera an unsealed manila envelope. I sent you a link and also printed all of them, including yesterday’s two offers."

Tera shook her head. This is crazy. The property isn’t even listed yet.

Kateri shrugged. That’s Paige Fitch for you. She’s a go-getter, and brokers are allowed to give their agents a twenty-four-hour first crack at selling the property. She’s equally gung-ho about her goal of expanding her business into a one-stop marketplace for all things real-estate related.

Tera nodded. Kateri had told her a week or two ago that Paige Fitch had hired a furniture stager, plus a handful of other experts to help buyers—builders, interior designers, and so forth.

Now she’s hired a house inspector, Kateri added. She had lost her smile.

By an inspector, do you mean the person who tells the sellers what they need to fix before the buyers sign the contract?

Yep. Kateri lifted her hands. I know. It’s weird. Typically, buyers hire their own inspector so they can be certain someone is watching out for their own interests. All of us mere agents—as opposed to brokers like Paige—pointed that out. Paige just said this would allow both parties to move things along faster.

That last statement made Tera nervous. "She does know that I am not going to accept an offer for at least a full week from tomorrow, when the listing goes live, though, right? And that all potential buyers have to be informed of the fact that someone was murdered?" Tera took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. Even saying that sentence out loud gave Tera pause.

Right. And I’ve double-checked. The folks who made the four offers assured me that they aren’t bothered by your mother’s tragic passing. Don’t worry. Four offers this early in the process is a big deal. We’re in great shape.

Tera studied Kateri’s dark brown eyes, sensing that Kateri was faking some of her enthusiasm. Maybe Kateri was also unsure if a week or even two was going to be enough time for buyers to fully grasp the concept of making a home out of what was recently a murder scene.

Is everything all right with you and your fellow coworkers?

Sure, Kateri said too quickly. She brushed her long black hair behind her left ear, which was something of a tell.

Tera said nothing, and within a few seconds Kateri sighed. Just some office politics. Nothing to worry about. She flashed a smile and gave Tera’s arm a quick squeeze. The offers are already above your asking price. Like I said, it’s a sellers’ market.

"Even so, I’m surprised…what with the home’s sad history and the horrible neighbor across the street."

Kateri winced. Yeah. Rupert Maynard is definitely a bit of a pain, but nothing I can’t handle. She again pushed back her hair.

Tera knew that handling Rupert was no easy feat. He was a bitter and bigoted old codger. He didn’t ask about your ancestry, did he? Kateri was one-quarter Native American.

Nothing I haven’t heard before. He assumed I was an ‘illegal Mexican.’ But getting back to the good news, thanks for trusting me with your precious childhood home. She chuckled a little. At the risk of ruining your surprise, three of the four offers are within two thousand dollars. But there’s an outlier that is fifteen-thousand dollars higher than the rest.

Great, Tera said.

One woman was so persistent she tried to get permission from my broker to give you a love letter.

‘A love letter?’ Tera repeated.

"That’s what we call it when potential buyers try to suck up to the sellers and convince them that they deserve the property more than anyone else. They’ll claim to love your house so much that they will never change a thing, which, by the way, is almost never true. They’ll give you a sob story of how their kid is going blind or deaf or has cancer and will finally feel safe and sound in your house."

Eww. I’m glad you spared me.

Kateri snorted. I can’t claim any credit for that. That’s a rule in Colorado set by our overseers—DORA, for short. I would have risked DORA taking away my realtor license to give a letter like that to you.

Seriously?

Kateri nodded. The industry wants property sales to be strictly a business transaction. They don’t want to have some disappointed would-be buyer claiming that their offer was rejected because the seller was prejudiced against them.

‘Huh. I didn’t realize that. What if the offer is from someone I know personally but happen to detest? Someone who mistreated my mother, or kicked a dog right in front of me?"

You’d be okay in those scenarios. But the odds of bumping into or knowing any of the buyers are small. You told me you planned to maintain a low profile for the next week or two, as I recall.

Tera smiled and said, Sounds good. Though I’d trust those odds a lot more if my mother’s ghost wasn’t worried that I was in trouble. And I will be letting my sub take several of my classes. With Vance on night duty, I would hardly ever see him. She’d also vowed to let Kateri handle the curmudgeon who lived across the street, which, if she was being honest with herself, wasn’t her usual style. I’m going to work hard at not worrying about anything.

Yes! Kateri said, pumping her fist. Are you heading home now?

Not immediately. This is my grocery day, Tera said with a smile.

Oh right. It’s Tuesday…and we’re going to watch the house-hunting shows tonight to celebrate the tomorrow morning. Be sure to pick up the caviar.

Tera grinned, knowing Kateri was joking, Will sliced apples, cheese, and crackers do?

Even better. Though I’m really just coming over for the wine. See you at eight. We can go over the early-bird offers. Kateri stood still, glancing at the envelope in Tera’s hand. You’re really not even going to look at them?

I was going to wait until I got into my car.

And deprive me of watching your face?

Okay. I’ll take a quick peek right now.

In the grocery store some twenty-plus minutes later, Tera was wondering if her imagination was running away with her. She hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that she was being followed by a very attractive couple. The man was almost as handsome as Tera’s husband, and his blonde counterpart looked like a runway model. The third time she had passed the man, he was alone. He’d looked at her, then turned his back to her to face his empty cart and said quietly into his Smartwatch: Yogi in Aisle Ten. Heading toward Produce.

Tera looked up at the aisle sign and realized that she had indeed left aisle ten and was closing in on fruits and vegetables. Was this some new fad? she wondered. Tracking strangers in stores to throw eggs at them or something?

No, eggs were too expensive these days. Just as she was halfway down aisle eleven, the blonde possible runway model was rapidly approaching with her own empty cart. Tera stopped and looked behind her. The man with the Smartwatch was also approaching with his cart, still empty. They had matching, bright-white smiles. If she didn’t know better, she’d be worried that the couple was about to play a game of bumper cars and wanted to squish her between them.

Sure enough, she suddenly found herself trapped in the aisle by their carts, with the blonde’s cart forming a tee-shape with Tera’s cart, and the man’s cart a foot or so behind Tera.

Oh, my goodness! the blonde exclaimed, as both of them deserted their carts and stood shoulder to shoulder in front of her. You’re Tera Westbrook, aren’t you?

Tera Westbrook, the handsome man next to her repeated.

Both confused and worried, Tera wondered if COVID had caused the Church of Latter-Day Saints to shift away from door knocking in lieu of proselytizing in grocery-store aisles. How did you know my name?

We have a friend in common…Cameron Brice.

Cameron is not a friend of mine, Tera stated. He is just the brother-in-law of my husband’s coworker. Unwilling to give the couple anymore personal information, she deliberately didn’t mention that his work was with the Denver Police Department, nor that Cameron was one of Kateri’s coworkers. And that doesn’t explain how you know who I am.

The couple glanced at each other. We’re so sorry. We haven’t even introduced ourselves. My name is Josh Jenson. And this—

And I’m Jenny Jenson, his wife interrupted. Recognizing the names, Tera sighed. She’d received their offer. Jenny’s voice was so perky that it reminded Tera of a particular camp counselor she’d had as a kid, who always chirpily led them into mucky swamps and clouds of mosquitoes.

We’re on a cable TV show about real estate, Jenny continued. Cameron is helping us, as we search for homes and homeowners who are especially photogenic. And, well, naturally, you fit the bill beyond our wildest imagination. She smiled and held Tera’s gaze.

While Tera was mulling the phrase beyond our wildest imagination with a pinch of repulsion, Josh said, Cam told us that your name came to his mind immediately. Once again, Josh smiled. She eyed Jenny, who was also still smiling. He showed us the photos of you on your Yoga website. We could use you in our opening scene…when you talk about selling us your mother’s house, Josh said.

We’re so sorry about your loss, Jenny said, speaking over the tail end of her husband’s statement. "My mother died a couple of years ago, and I just cried and cried."

Losing your mother is hard. But…you do realize that I and my husband will determine who buys my property. Not the cable company.

Oh, of course. Of course, Jenny said. We were just feeling super lucky that we bumped into you. We wanted to tell you how excited we will be if we are lucky enough to put your home on our new television program.

Tera told herself not to focus on how she felt about her childhood home being aired on TV; the subject matter was so completely unexpected that she would need time to consider the pros and cons. Nevertheless, she wanted more information. What’s the name of your show? And what channel is it on?

Oh, we can’t reveal that yet, Jenny said. Not until the contracts are signed and all of that.

So…you don’t actually know if you’re going to have a TV show?

We’re ninety-nine percent sure, Josh said. But we are still looking at other possibilities for the house that will be our pilot show. We’re not putting all of our eggs into your basket.

Not even if they were in a carton of eighteen extra-large, range-fed eggs from this store, Jenny added.

Both of them laughed as if on cue.

I’m glad to hear that. Tera held back on stating that she truly did not want their eggs in her basket.

We do really, really want to state that your adorable bungalow is just the perfect first house for us in our endeavor.

Endeavor? Tera repeated, also thinking that her mom’s house was a two-story house—not a bungalow.

Jenny’s smile faded. The point is that we’re prepared to pay top dollar if you will sell us your home. It will be…enshrined for all eternity by virtue of being on TV. You’ll be able to record it and watch it whenever you like.

‘Enshrined’ isn’t really the right word, babe, Josh said. Memorialized for all of posterity is more like it.

My realtor is Kateri Hauser, and you can discuss this with her.

"Yes. We saw her yesterday while we were falling in love with your house. She’s very photogenic, too."

Plus, she’s got such a perfect name for a real-a-tor, Jenny said, mispronouncing the word. "She’s a House-er, selling houses."

Get it? Josh said, then chuckled.

I need to finish my shopping.

Our point is that you’ll make income from your house. We—

"My point, Tera interrupted, is that you should talk to my realtor and not to me, or my husband."

Oh, of course. We were just—

Excited to run into me, Tera finished for her. Kateri told me that the sellers should never meet their potential buyers before the actual sale so that there’s no chance of discriminating for or against the buyers.

Oh, of course, Josh said. This is an exception. It’s a reality TV show.

"Except that isn’t an exception. Ask Cameron. I just learned recently that in Colorado, DORA, a government agency that regulates realtor licenses and regulations, bans realtors from allowing potential buyers from trying to gain an unfair advantage. Buying property is a financial transaction, period. It eliminates the chance of agents or sellers getting sued for discrimination."

And now we are making your real-a-ty into a reality, Jenny interjected. This is a nice cash cow for you, Tera Westbrook. She paused and grinned. I just love that name… ‘Westbrook.’ It’s so serene. You need to know that every time your house segment is aired, you get paid royalties.

"Royalties, you mean?" Tera asked, losing her last speck of patience.

Jenny squeezed her husband’s arm. "I wonder where the term cash cow came into being?"

It was all Tera could do not to interject: Probably something to do with manure. Excuse me. Tera navigated her way around them and headed to the checkout line. She decided to forgo getting any more groceries. The image of heading into a mosquito infested swamp was so strong her skin was starting to itch.

Chapter Three

After dinner and a short conversation with Vance before he reported to work, Tera neatened the house so that she’d feel comfortable with Kateri here. She arrived promptly at eight pm, just as Tera had started a fire in their fireplace. There was a brief pause in their conversation as they both stared at the fire, and Tera said, We might have something of a problem. The Jay Jays are the highest bidder.

The Jay Jays? Kateri repeated.

"The Jensons. They