Ghost Mortem (Ghost Detective #1) - Jane Hinchey Page 0,1
two years, Amanda acts way older. She’s a twinset and pearl-wearing type of girl who talks as if she has a plum in her mouth. Just last week at our regular family dinner at Mom and Dad’s, when the topic of conversation rolled around to my klutzy behavior like it did every week, she announced that “slower processing speed and reaction time may predispose certain individuals to errors in coordination which can lead to unintentional injuries.” I’d laughed, reached for my glass, and promptly spilled red wine all over the table. She’d arched a perfectly manicured brow and said, “Case in point.”
My older sister, Laura, is married to Brad, and they have one kid, baby Isabelle. Needless to say, at every family get-together my ovaries are fit to burst at all the baby cuteness surrounding me. Not to mention the tick-tock of my approaching thirtieth birthday.
But I digress. I was about to tell you how I died. Well…not died…exactly. Nearly died.
I’d started my morning by dropping my phone on my face while lying in bed. The alarm had woken me from a deep sleep and I’d snatched the phone and practically catapulted it into my forehead. I’d spent an extra ten minutes covering the angry red mark with makeup while rummaging through my wardrobe trying to find a blouse without a stain down the front. I finally settled on a white T-shirt, wearing it back to front to hide its stain. I made a mental note to ask my mom about stain removal tips—either that or buy a whole new wardrobe. Slipping my navy blazer over the top, I eyed myself critically in the mirror. No one would ever know. Provided I kept the blazer on all day.
Thankfully the matching navy skirt was dark enough to hide any marks, and sliding my feet into my heels, I rushed out the door. Stockings were pointless—nine times out of ten I’d arrive at work with a run in them. Don’t ask me how, they just seemed to magically appear.
The day had gone remarkably smoothly, as far as days go. Up until three in the afternoon.
“Audrey!” Mr. Brown bellowed. I cringed, figuring my luck had run out. I’d really hoped he hadn’t heard the almighty crash preceding his bellow. I’d pushed through the board room doors with my backside, carrying a heavy tray piled high with crockery ready for the meeting at four. A very important meeting with very important people. VIPs. I’d been told a dozen times to make sure the room was perfect—and to make myself scarce as soon as it was. I would not be required to take notes.
How was I to know the princess and her pony were in there getting ready for their big presentation? I didn’t mean for the door to swing back and hit the princess. FYI, she’s not a real princess; that’s just what I call her. Better than pompous ass. She struts through the office as if she’s better than everyone else and that grates on me. A lot. And her assistant, whom I affectionately call the pony since she’s always riding him—in more ways than one—was always on hand to see that her every whim, every small desire, was met. She was, of course, Mr. Brown’s daughter. Untouchable.
Only I’d touched her all right. The door smacked her in the butt so hard she catapulted into the pony who staggered back, tripped over a cord and pulled the whole podium, complete with laptop, onto the floor. Of course, I lost my balance and the tray carrying all the cups, saucers, glasses and jugs of juice went flying, hitting the floor with a crash. Shards of broken crockery flew through the air, and juice splashed the floor, walls, the princess and her pony. Pretty sure the laptop was screwed too.
“Audrey!” Mr. Brown’s voice was closer now, his footfalls heavy as he thundered down the corridor towards the board room. I looked at the mess on the floor, debated my chances of clearing it up before he got here, calculated I had less than zero chance, and figured I shouldn’t even bother. I was going to get roasted with a capital R. Especially when Mr. Brown got an eyeful of the princess, a big wet stain spreading across the front of her silk blouse. Sucking in a deep breath, I let it fill my lungs before slowly breathing it out, waiting for the inevitable explosion. It came seconds later, the door slamming back so hard it