After Midnight Murder: A Lamp Glow Inn Mystery, #2

By Kathryn De Winter

Another murder at the Inn!

When Daphne Welldrake discovers the body of her fiance lying face down on the kitchen floor she becomes the prime suspect in his murder.

With the help of her friend George and the ghosts of the Lamp Glow Inn Daphne begins to untangle the clues in an attempt to work out who the real murderer is.

Will she be able to solve the puzzle before she is arrested for murder or worse ends up dead herself?

• Language: English
• Publisher: South Coast Publishing
• Release date: Feb 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386008835

Book preview

Chapter One

In my mind I saw her laying there in the main guest room. She was dead in her sleep, with her crying husband holding her and praying it wasn’t true.

Martina Ross had been a dear friend, a beloved wife and part of a loving family, and she died in the Lamp Glow Inn one year ago today. My Inn. The details of her death and the aftermath would be ingrained in my mind forever. Her loss left a hole that could never be filled. Martina was one of a kind.

So much had changed since that day. Some of it was terrible, like the discovery that my ex-friend and business partner, Philippa Knight, was a jealous conniving murderer. Some of it… I have to say some of it was absolutely brilliant. I was really starting to believe in the goodness of the world again. I may have lost a best friend last year, but I gained a son, and now a daughter-in-law.

My son’s happiness was what pulled me out of the hole I’d been at risk of falling into a year ago. Officer Nathan Davies. It was a surprise to both of us that we could be a family. He opened his heart to me and allowed me to be a part of his life. If not for him I don’t know if I would have found anything worth enjoying again. The highpoint of my new relationship with him was him pinning a mother corsage on me at his wedding. His adoptive mom was so sweet to me, and she welcomed me by her side in celebrating our son’s happy day. We’d since become close friends, to Nathan’s delight, and mine too. Now I get to hear all of the stories about Nathan growing up, and feel in a way like those moments, such as his first step or first school dance, weren’t lost to me forever.

In addition to those relationships, I’d also broken free of the fear that had held me back from really committing to my long-time boyfriend Glen, and we were now engaged. We were keeping it very low-key though. Even though it would be my first marriage, I felt like I was past the age of wanting to make a big deal out of my wedding. I figured, once we were ready, we would just slip down to the justice of the peace or get a preacher out to the Inn with a handful of friends to witness and celebrate.

Being ready to start that part of my life, though, meant getting through tonight.

This night was the celebration of Martina’s life. Her murder was a dark time, as were the days to follow before her body was autopsied and then returned to her home for a funeral. Her husband, George, wanted to make up for the bad by throwing a party in celebration of the good life Martina had led. He had a huge event in California planned, but he and I both felt like we needed to do something at the Inn for closure. I hoped that we could bring back happy memories of her to the Inn. Even though her ghost no longer haunted the place, our memories did, and we needed to overcome them.

Daph, are you coming down? Glen called up the stairs to me, jolting me out of my reverie. I’d come up here to grab a wrap and gotten caught up in the memories of the room instead. I knew George would have to come up here himself tonight and look at the place where he found his wife. I wanted to make sure it was perfect even if he wasn’t going to stay the night here. He and his sister-in-law, Martina’s sister Carrie, had a hotel in the city an hour away. I didn’t blame him for not being ready for this big of a step yet.

I’d made the downstairs just as festive as I could though. I’d gone through years of digital photos to find ones of happy times, careful to avoid the ones that included Philippa. It was a difficult task, since Philippa had been such a big part of our lives for so long. Both Philippa and George were great chefs, and we all met while working at a restaurant together.

The atmosphere down here was warm and loving. Carrie, George and I all had a bond now that went deeper than anything imaginable. Martina’s sister, her husband, and me. There was more to it than that, of course. That wonderful son of mine who made me so happy now that we’d reconnected, was also George’s son. I’d given him up for adoption without George knowing. Now we got to know him as an adult. It was a sore spot for Glen, knowing that he didn’t share that personal connection with us. Nathan was the bright spot in both our lives now, and something that Glen couldn’t share with us.

Glen was dealing with it and he never let it come between us. I loved him, and we were to be married, but now George and I were closer than ever, and it was something Glen would have to accept for the rest of our lives.

When I got downstairs, I smiled and joined in with the conversation. George was telling us about how he was setting to wind down his TV empire. He’d made enough money as a very famous TV chef to set himself up for a comfortable life. He’d always been smart when it came to being frugal and making smart investments.

It’s not the same without Martina, he said. I’m just not feeling the passion. But who knows? Maybe I’ll move back here if grandchildren start popping up!

He lifted a glass to me and winked. I smiled back, curious about the idea of him moving back to a town that he couldn’t wait to leave when he was young, but also tickled about the idea of us becoming grandparents.

I do hope it happens, but I’m surely not going to be the kind of mother that nags her son to get started! It still sounded so precious to me, calling myself a mother. I’d gone through so many years of heartache after I gave Nathan up for adoption. Who would have ever known that I’d be gifted with him back in my life?

The night continued with light banter and included some interruptions by our resident ghosts. Yes, ghosts. Not the fake flashlight-on, flashlight-off ghosts on those ridiculous reality television shows. The real thing.

They shared their own memories of Martina with me, both what they observed while she was living, and what they experienced while she was one of them for the brief while before her spirit went off in peace. Glen and George and Carrie felt them, I think. They smiled at a lot of what was said, even if they couldn’t hear it.

Always a nice lady, that one, Benita said of Martina. Benita was the shyest, and also the youngest of the ghosts, not in terms of how long she had been a spirit. I mean young as in how old she was when she died. She was a young Spanish girl and was by far the sweetest and most affectionate of our four otherworldly residents.

She had the most fab clothes, said Amy. She was a teenager from the 70’s, and she projected herself in the styles of her time. I’d heard her say any number of times that today’s fashions couldn’t hold a candle to the things she wore. Bell bottoms and beaded shirts and faux leather jackets with fringe. For all that she was stuck in her own time period, she’d picked up on how to use the internet to scroll through online fashion magazines pretty quickly.

Most respectable, ghost Joseph pronounced. He always wore his World War II Officer’s uniform. It was a part of his persona, and how he remembered himself. He was a good man, and one I would trust with my life. The irony in that often brings a smile to my face.

Then there was Eunice. Martina was an absolute dear. In life and in death she loved everyone. Eunice was the oldest when she died. She had led a full life that ended on the Titanic. Even though she hadn’t died here like the others, it was her father who built the Inn. She’d grown up here, and this was where her spirit felt most at rest.

In the past year I’d gotten used to living with the ghosts. Anyone on the outside might think we were strange, but this setup was far better to me than when I only heard knocking on the walls or caught glimpses of a shadow moving in the halls. Having ghosts you could be friends with made your haunted house way less spooky.

When it was time for George to take his trip upstairs, Glen excused himself to go do dishes, leaving Carrie and me alone.

The conversation lagged, and then naturally turned to Martina. It’s still so weird, you know, for her to not be around, Carrie said.

I nodded. It is. I don’t think it’s the kind of thing we’re supposed to get used to.

Can I be honest with you? she asked, sliding forward in her seat. I really hoped that coming here tonight would end up in us seeing her ghost. Or feeling her presence. Or something. But she’s really gone, isn’t she?

Which is actually a good thing, I replied. She’s at peace. It might make life a bit more comfortable for us, if we were able to see her, but the ghosts I live with are ones who could never find closure. They’re stuck in between life and peace. You wouldn’t want that for your sister.

Carrie nodded. I know. You’re absolutely right. Even so, her face pulled down in a frown and I could see her sadness.

I wanted to ask her about how she and George were doing. They were still technically brother and sister-in-law, but I wondered what the answer would be if I asked how their relationship had evolved, now that they had spent a year comforting each other over losing Martina. It just wasn’t a question you could easily sneak into a conversation. Besides, it really wasn’t my business, and it shouldn’t make any difference to me. I expected George to date and not remain a single widower forever, and if he chose to date Carrie that would be even better because she was already a friend of mine and someone I cared about.

Besides. My heart belonged to Glen. I had no claim on George.

We’re here for each other, I finally said. That’s what’s important. I don’t want us to ever fall out of touch.

I try to stick around as much as George will let me. Sometimes he acts like he doesn’t want me there, you know? I think I’m a painful reminder to him. I worry that he’s too isolated, but then again, he has a soft spot for you, and your son. That’s given him something to live for, after losing Martina.

I smiled at that. Our lives had finally settled down. Now we could all move on.

I went to bed that night, after Carrie and George went to their hotel, still thinking about how really fortunate we were to have each other. George and Carrie were good people. Ones I trusted. Ones I was glad to have in my life.

I was lucky that I had Glen. He’d been completely understanding about everything, and the last year had brought us closer than ever. He may not have been as good a friend with Martina as I had been, and he may not feel her loss as personally, but he loved me and understood my pain.

I tossed and turned, with my brain going crazy with all of these thoughts. It was just like the months right after Martina’s death. I couldn’t think about what was right, without thinking about what was wrong. I’d learned how to meditate and calm what they called monkey brain, and make my mind settle into a low hum. So I practiced now, lying in bed next to a sleeping Glen, and focused on my breathing.

I only knew that I’d managed to fall asleep when I woke up some time later.

I wasn’t sure at first what had woken me. I thought maybe it was a noise. A thud. Now, everything was silent. My heart was pounding though. Whatever the sound had been had left me rattled. I reached over next to me to touch Glen, knowing that his solid presence would calm me.

Glen wasn’t there.

Glen, I called out into the dark of my room, did you make a noise? It woke me up. Be more careful, will you? Glen? There was no answer. I stretched to see over the side of the bed, to look over at the attached bathroom. The door was open. The light wasn’t on.

So he wasn’t in there either.

Maybe he’d gone down to the kitchen. It wasn’t unlike him to grab a late-night snack, even though that often meant that he’d double-up on his exercise the next day. Or sometimes he’d go out to the office to get some writing done. Anytime inspiration hit he’d get himself up from bed and make sure to jot words and thoughts down before his mind forgot it.

Better him than me. I mumbled to myself, way too tired to get up and check on him or the noise I may or may not have heard. The ghosts and I had come to an understanding. No knocking on walls or thumping furniture around after eleven at night. They might not need to sleep but I and my guests did. So I was certain it hadn’t been them. Well, it was quiet now. I settled back into my pillow, hugging my arms around it, and prepared to fall back into sweet sleep.

Eyes closed, my breathing starting to even out. Just as I had started to drift back to sleep, I was jolted back awake by the sound of a child crying. I sat up straight, willing myself to listen to the eerie sound of a young girl’s fear.

My eyes finally adjusted enough to make out the figure of Ghost Benita by my bedroom door. She did indeed look like she was crying. I sighed, knowing that my ghost friends needed my help from time to time just the same as my living friends did. Sweetheart, what’s wrong? I asked, as I slid on my slippers and wrapped myself in my robe before making my way over to her.

She looked up at me with huge, tormented eyes. I thought perhaps she was thinking about her time as a child slave in a Spanish monastery, or maybe the time she fell to her death off a cliff. I’ve heard all their life stories or at least most of them. They still carried their trauma with them, my ghosts did.

Instead of answering me, she pointed her finger to my door.

What’s going on? I asked her.

Her bleary, wet eyes stared at me in the dark. Please. You have to come.

Of the things I wanted to do in that moment, following my young Spanish friend about the Inn was not one of them. Can’t this wait until morning? I’m very tired.

No, no, you must come now! Her cries turned frantic, and I