Don't Spook the Guitarist (eBook)
396 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
9798317818234 (ISBN)
Kathleen Mayes is a former music professor and lifelong classical guitarist from Southern New Jersey. She spent over thirty years teaching classical guitar, music history, and theory at Rowan University, while also performing in concert halls and playing background music in cozy cafés at and around Philly and South Jersey. She's recorded several albums-solo and in duet with her husband, Joseph Mayes. The duo made their Carnegie Hall debut in 2010. Along the way, she's worked with wonderful ensembles and published guitar quartet arrangements published by Guitar Chamber Music Press. Now retired from the classroom and the concert stage, Kathleen has traded her sheet music for stories. She's having a blast writing mysteries filled with music, ghosts, and just the right amount of mischief.
A haunted hospice. A hidden treasure. A summer Suzanna will never forget. Classical guitarist Suzanna Archer is back in a suspenseful new mystery set in Cape May, New Jersey a seaside town as rich in charm and history as it is in secrets, corruption, and whispers of restless spirits. As she spends the summer working at a hospice rumored to be haunted, Suzanna struggles with the emotional toll of performing for patients nearing the end of their lives. But when a WWII veteran hints at a long-buried family secret, and a stash of lost gold coins, everything changes. Her search for answers pulls her into the orbit of a charming yet cagey Englishman, a medical assistant with a hidden agenda, and a jittery ghost with unfinished business. As Suzanna follows the clues, she awakens a presence that has waited too long and is not ready to stay silent. With old friends by her side, and a little paranormal help, Suzanna digs deeper to uncover the truth. But some truths are buried for a reason. Is Suzanna ready to face what lies beneath?
Chapter 3
Monday, June 6, 2016
Suzanna sauntered down Cape May’s boardwalk, letting the ocean breeze cool her face and tussle her short hair. Those cool gusts off the water eased the notorious New Jersey humidity … a bit.
Equipped for the day, she wore her classical guitar case strapped on backpack style and carried her heavy gig bag slung over one shoulder. The bag bulged with music, music stand, and tuner, thumping against her thigh as she made her way from the parking lot to the hospice.
Four weeks on the job at Cape May Oceanview, and no surprise—she was still getting used to playing for dying people. She enjoyed meeting the patients … most of them anyway. But knowing they could pass away at any moment gave her a dull ache in the pit of her stomach.
When she reached the bright blue-and-white Victorian mansion, she turned her back on the sunny ocean view and maneuvered her gear up the hospice’s broad porch steps. A thin dusting of beach sand made the climb a little tricky, her sneakers sliding on scattered grains.
As she stepped onto the main deck that stretched the length of the house, she let her gig bag drop with a solid thud. The vibration set the nearest Adirondack rocker swaying, sending a ripple down the long row of ivory chairs. She glanced twice, just to make sure the hospice ghost wasn’t rocking in one of them. She’d been hoping to catch a glimpse of the alleged spook, but so far, no luck.
“Hey, Bella!” Suzanna called out, waving to her new friend at the far end of the porch. She and Bella, the third-floor head nurse, had hit it off from day one.
Bella, looking sharp in her crisp white uniform, was stretching up on tiptoes, pinching off dead leaves from one of the wicker baskets of red gardenias hanging from the porch’s roof. With a cheerful grin and a glint in her dark eyes, Bella waved back.
“How goes it, muchacha?”
Suzanna cracked a half smile. Bella was born in the US, but her parents were from the Dominican Republic. Whenever she said a Spanish word, her accent kicked in, her speech shifting from almost accent-free to a rich Spanish cadence. It felt like she just flipped a switch. To Suzanna, who could barely manage high school French, it seemed like magic.
Bella grabbed Suzanna’s bag and gave the heavy oak door a solid push. It creaked open, and sunlight poured through the stained-glass side panels, where ruby and sea-blue flowers shimmered.
Together, they stepped into the spacious vestibule that still held the grandeur of a Victorian mansion’s entrance. A rush of cold air and disinfectant hit Suzanna as if she’d walked headfirst into a wall. The low humidity was a welcome change, but the smell was straight out of every hospital and doctor’s office she’d ever hated.
They continued into the foyer, now the hospice’s main lobby. Plenty of the old elegance had survived the remodel. Suzanna often glanced up at the vaulted ceiling and original crystal chandelier, picturing all the people who’d done the same over the years. The sweeping staircase was still intact, too, but now it shared space with a curved laminate reception desk—sleek, modern, and totally out of place.
Chatter and laughter erupted from a group of nurses gathered around the reception desk.
Bella crossed her arms, but her eyes sparkled. “What’s going on here?”
The nurses all started talking at once. Absolute mayhem. Suzanna nearly laughed out loud. Honestly, it sounded like something out of Bridesmaids.
Bella held up her hands. “Okay, okay.” She pointed at a tall nurse with a long mane of red hair. “Mindy, just you.”
Almost out of breath, Mindy said, “A few minutes ago, we all saw the Captain! Before, I was the only one who saw him. But now,”—she swept her hand toward the group of nurses—“we all have!” She wiped away tears of laughter and excitement.
Suzanna’s pulse quickened. Bella had described the late-night research sessions, when she and the other nurses pored over records and pieced together the mansion’s history. Captain Henry Marlow, the original owner from the 1800s, haunted almost every tale.
Suzanna would be the first to admit she didn’t have much experience with the supernatural. She wasn’t exactly sure what she believed—or didn’t. But her run-in with the Jersey Devil last year left her with an open mind.
She turned to Mindy. “Can you describe what you saw?”
“It was just like before,” Mindy said, taking a sip of water. “He stood on the second-floor terrace, smoking a pipe and staring out to sea.”
Another nurse chimed in, “We smelled the tobacco all through the second floor. And you couldn’t see him from the waist down. That was all misty. But what you could see …” She fanned herself with her hand.
The nurses burst into giggles, a few turning bright red. Mindy nodded so hard, her fiery hair whipped around her shoulders.
Suzanna tilted her head. “What, he’s hunky?”
Mindy gave her a radiant smile. “Total stud. Harrison Ford face with a close-cropped white beard.”
“What was he wearing?” Bella asked.
“He had on this cute navy-blue captain’s cap … you know, the flat kind with a brim. And a double-breasted, navy-blue coat with some sort of dark turtleneck underneath.”
Bella pursed her lips. “Guess now I’m the only nurse who’s seen his pranks, but not him.”
“Pranks?” Suzanna’s ears perked up. “You mean, he’s a funny ghost, like Casper?”
“I’d call him mischievous,” Mindy offered.
Suzanna was about to ask more when the front door opened and footsteps clicked across the hardwood floor. Director Bannon, head of the hospice, strolled in, looking polished in his tailored suit.
His stern voice cut through the chatter. “What’s all the commotion about?”
Glancing at the other nurses, Mindy said, “Back to work.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Suzanna caught a flicker of movement on the reception desk. A stress ball dropped to the floor with a soft thud, as if an invisible hand had given it a little nudge. All heads turned toward the ball as it bounced across the floor.
Bella pushed her way through the cluster of nurses and scooped it up. The mysterious stress ball gave Suzanna a chill, but when she peeked over Bella’s shoulder, she almost laughed. It looked like a giant aspirin, easily the silliest piece of pharmaceutical swag she’d ever seen. A blue-and-black logo covered the top, but the details were too small to read.
Bannon rushed to Bella’s side. “Better give me that.” He yanked it from her hand and shoved it in his pocket. Just before it disappeared, Suzanna caught a brief flash of a black V.
The nurses drifted off, their remaining giggles muffled and fading away. Bella and Suzanna lingered, watching Bannon stride to his office down the hall. He didn’t look back, but the tension he’d left behind hung in the air.
Bella nodded toward the wide corridor. “Walk me to the elevator?”
Suzanna stowed her gear behind the reception desk and jogged to catch up. They ambled down the long hallway toward the back of the mansion, where an elevator had been added during the renovations. It blended in so seamlessly, Suzana could hardly believe it hadn’t always been there.
As they walked, Suzanna asked, “What did Mindy mean by mischievous?”
“Just little things, like mixing up patient folders or hiding someone’s name tag. Could just be staff mistakes.” Bella rubbed her arms like she’d caught a chill. “Still … that stress ball.”
The soft thud echoed in Suzanna’s mind. Had the Captain shoved it, or was she imagining things? “I’d love to see the Captain. But so far? Not even a whiff of his tobacco.”
“Same here. But if ghosts do exist, it’s strange that only one haunts this place.” Bella let out a dry chuckle. “Where everybody dies.”
It sounded kinda morbid, but then, gallows humor was a hospice staple. To get through this kind of work every day, Bella and the other nurses had to be a little jaded. Right?
Suzanna nudged Bella. “Wanna go out for lunch today? The sandwich I packed this morning is subpar in every way.”
Bella shook her head. “Can’t today. Maybe mañana.” She smoothed loose strands of dark-brown hair into the neat bun at the back of her head.
Having only seen Bella with her hair pinned back, Suzanna wondered about its length. She imagined it cascading down her back, complementing her smooth, honey-brown skin.
“Tomorrow then?” Suzanna asked.
“Sure, but right now, I gotta get back up to the third floor.”
They passed two small patient rooms, their crown molding and sconces hinting at the elegant parlors they once were. The rest of...
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 21.10.2025 |
|---|---|
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror |
| ISBN-13 | 9798317818234 / 9798317818234 |
| Informationen gemäß Produktsicherheitsverordnung (GPSR) | |
| Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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