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  The Favor

  An Angela Panther Mystery Novella

  Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  June 2019

  COPYRIGHT 2019, Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

  Attribution — You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).

  Noncommercial — You may not use this work for commercial purposes.

  No Derivative Works — You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.

  Cover Design by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

  For my high school friends, then and now.

  Ah, to be young again, only as smart as we all are now.

  Imagine the possibilities.

  Other Books by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  The Angela Panther Mystery Series

  Unfinished Business

  Unbreakable Bonds

  Uncharted Territory

  Unexpected Outcomes

  Unbinding Love

  The Christmas Elf

  The Ghosts

  Undetermined Events

  The Event

  The Favor

  The Inn at Laurel Creek Contemporary Romance Novella Series

  The Inn at Laurel Creek

  Zoe & Daniel’s Story

  The Lily Sprayberry Realtor Cozy Mystery Series

  Deal Gone Dead

  Decluttered and Dead

  The Scarecrow Snuff Out

  Sleigh Bells & Sleuthing (A Holiday Author Novella Collection featuring Lily Sprayberry)

  Signed, Sealed and Dead

  Bidding War Break-In

  Open House Heist

  Realtor Rip Off (Coming soon!)

  The Chantilly Adair Psychic Medium Cozy Mystery Series

  Get Up and Ghost

  Ghosts Are People Too (Coming soon!)

  Author Shared Series

  Mourning Crisis

  The Funeral Fakers Series

  Independent Novellas

  Santa’s Gift A Cumming Christmas Novella

  To learn more about Carolyn, join her newsletter and receive a free book at

  Carolynridderaspenson.com

  MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR

  For those of you that have read my Angela Panther series, you probably know there are hints to my life weaved into each story. Jake, for example, is a sweeter version of my husband (who is very sweet already, but for fiction purposes, he needed to be like sugar candy), and Fran is an exaggerated version of my mother, Rita.

  I had this thought to take Angela back to her suburban Chicago roots, and this little novella seemed the perfect way to do that. I’ll be honest, this is less mystery and more a dive into some of Angela’s past, but Angela has always been more about relationships than the mystery itself. Or at least I like to think that. Again, there are elements of truth in the pages of the story, but much of it is fiction. My high school boyfriend was not Brian. In fact, Brian and I didn’t even know each other personally in high school, even though we graduated together. He was too good for the likes of me. We never talked to each other until I kicked him out of our first high school reunion years ago. (Sorry about that, buddy). The rest of the characters are real live people from my past, and ones that I hold wonderful memories with. Tim, for example, is a high school and college friend, and we’re still friends today. He does own a fabulous deli called All Ways Catering and Deli in Elk Grove, so if you’re in that area, make sure you stop by and grab a sandwich. There were so many elements of my high school years I wanted to add to this novella, so many people I wanted to give a nod to, but I couldn’t fit it all in. It’s not meant to be a walk down memory lane for me anyway. It’s not for me, it’s for my readers.

  With respect to the storyline, it’s fiction. My high school boyfriend isn’t dead, and if he was, I wouldn’t see his spirit, and I don’t expect he’d pop into my bathroom if I could. That would be weird. Besides, the last thing this menopausal woman wants to do is take a hot bath. An ice cold bath, maybe, but absolutely not a hot one.

  The Favor

  The ghost tugged and pulled on my bathroom throw rug. He thought it was funny, but I failed to see the humor in it. I took my baths seriously, and I intended to put up a good fight. I dug my heels into the soft cotton, but my strength couldn’t top his. In fact, it wasn’t even close. In one swift move he yanked the thing out from under me. I yelped and held onto the counter to stop myself from falling down and smacking my head on the bathtub.

  I growled at him. “This isn’t funny.”

  Boundaries. The dead lacked boundaries, and as a psychic medium, that was my biggest pet peeve. It didn’t matter where I was or what I was doing, if they needed me, they’d just show up and start yapping away like I wasn’t half naked and ready for my well-deserved Calgon moment. At least my robe covered the wobbly bits, albeit barely. That particular ghost didn’t need me flashing him any wobbly bits, and my ego certainly didn’t need that, either.

  And they’d sure wobbled a lot lately.

  “Calgon, forget taking me away, take him away.” I glared at the ghost. “Can’t you see I’m a little busy here?”

  “What?” My husband Jake hollered back from the bedroom. The door on his chest of drawers slammed shut, and he yelled, “I can’t hear you, babe.”

  I peeked out the double doors that led into the bedroom, as I waved my arm behind me to stop the irritating blast from my past from doing something I’d regret. “Not talking to you, sorry.” I shut the doors and glared at the ghost. “Leave, please.”

  Jake pushed the doors open. “Well if you’re not talking to me, then who’re you talking to?” He winked and then smiled when he saw the rug pushed into the corner between the tub and the counter. “Redecorating?”

  “Not exactly.”

  The spirit floating over my toilet laughed. “Go ahead. Tell him.”

  I shot the snarky spirit the stink eye.

  Jake caught the look and glanced at the toilet. “It’s still here?”

  I nodded.

  “Hey, Fran,” he said, offering my mom a greeting.

  She would have said hi back, if she were the one there.

  I shook my head.

  Jake’s posture stiffened. “Do you know who it is?”

  I nodded again.

  He waited for me to continue, and when I didn’t, asked, “Do I get to know, too?”

  My eyes shifted toward my dead first love and then back to my forever and currently breathing one. “You promise you won’t be mad?”

  Jake held up his hands. “This’ll be good I’m sure, but it can wait. Take your bath.” He walked over and kissed me. “You can tell me when you’re out, and I’m done with my conference call.” He walked out of the dimly lit bathroom and closed the doors behind him.

  The spirit floated over. “You’re looking good Angie. Had I known you’d hold up like this I might not have dumped you.” His eyes trailed up and down my years old gray robe. “Nice rack. When’d you get that?”

  “Shut up.” I folded my arms over my chest and forced the smile on my face into a small snarl instead. “Two kids.” I shook my head and grimaced. “Seriously, could you be any ruder and more inappropriate? And nobody calls me Angie anymore.” I tightened my robe’s belt. “And by the way, it was me that did the dumping, Brian.”

  He shrugged. “You jus
t beat me to it.” He pointed to the tub. “You getting in there? I can wait ‘til you’re finished.” He leaned onto my bathroom counter, and a smile spread across his face. “Always pictured you taking a bath back in the day.”

  I grimaced. “Ew, please.” I glanced at the doors again and lowered my voice. “I don’t want to know about your high school fantasies.”

  How long had my ex-boyfriend been dead? He didn’t have a problem touching things, and I had to admit, it was impressive. That usually took time or a lot of emotion and energy. Brian Carey unquestionably had the energy, at least he acted like it.

  The thought of taking a nice relaxing bath flew right out the stained glass window over my tub. I pulled the water stopper out and shut off the faucet, watching the soft, relaxing bubbles swirl down the drain. I sighed. I’d really wanted that relaxing bubble bath, but not with my ex-boyfriend floating there and gawking at my naked self.

  “Come on. Don’t do that on my account.” He covered his eyes with his fingers, but poorly enough, I still caught his slightly transparent eyeballs staring at me. “I won’t look, I promise.”

  I exhaled. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Have you been—” I paused, treading gently even though he didn’t deserve it, “dead long?”

  Brian, my high school boyfriend, should have known me well enough to know I didn’t sugarcoat things. Any things.

  “I’m not exactly sure. What’s the date?”

  “May twenty-fifth.”

  “Twenty-fourteen?”

  My eyes widened. “Twenty-nineteen.”

  “Damn.”

  “You’ve been dead since twenty-fourteen?”

  He laughed. “Heck no. I just wanted to see if you still do that funny little eye roll thing you used to do when I drove you crazy.”

  The little eye roll thing I’d passed onto my oldest child, Emily. I had no idea I’d done it since I was seventeen.

  I removed the clip from the ever-thinning bun of blonde hair I’d piled on the top of my head and let my hair drop past my shoulders. I fluffed it with my hands. “Brian, do you see a light?” I hoped I could cross him over and be done with him. Our relationship, as long ago as it was, hadn’t ended well. Not that many first love endings ever ended well. I didn’t hold any resentment toward him. In fact, I had, until that moment, warm fuzzy feelings about the guy for years. First love and all that emotion it brought was kind of nostalgic and all, but he’d interrupted the glory of a relaxing bath, and I felt nothing sentimental toward him at that moment.

  He peered around the small room. “Nope.”

  I sighed. “Any sparkles floating around? Maybe a bit of a glow nearby?”

  He shook his head. “Nope, none of that either.”

  “Not even the dim light of a flashlight about to die? Anything?” My eyes flitted to the ceiling, but I knew I wouldn’t see any kind of glow, dim or bright.

  He laughed. “Looks like I’ve got some unfinished business to tend to, and you’re the one to help.”

  I sat on the side of the tub and crossed my legs, frustrated because I didn’t want to help my high school and college boyfriend, and annoyed because I knew he was right. I was the one to help. It was my non-paying, yet rewarding, job. My life’s work. My destiny, darn it. “How did you know I could? I didn’t exactly have this gift when we dated.”

  He raised his eyebrow. “You know, I’m not sure. After I died, I kind of hung out a little, watched them pull me out and try to revive me, and then your face just appeared to me, and I thought, why not? Wouldn’t hurt to have a look, see how you’re doing, maybe scare you a little. Next thing I know, I’m floating around your bathroom hoping you’ll lose the robe.”

  I adjusted the flimsy terrycloth material over my legs. “Good grief. There’s all kinds of wrong in most of that.”

  His happy go lucky expression fell into a serious, straight-lipped one. “The truth is, I need your help.”

  I knew that was coming, obviously. “With what? You want me to get a message to your wife, maybe? Tell her you came to me when you died? Yeah, that’ll go over well. She wasn’t all that happy to know you’d connected with me on Facebook, remember? A visit from your spirit will probably send her over the top.”

  I’d met Brian’s wife once several years ago at our fifteen-year high school reunion, the first one I’d gone to. It was the first time I’d had a conversation with Brian since the day we broke up, and only because Jake targeted him during the cocktail hour and forced him. I could have done without the conversation or the limp, sweaty handshake from his wife. She must have known about me from that, and I gave her credit for smiling and engaging, but knowing Brian, he wouldn’t have married anyone not capable of that.

  Brian didn’t respond, and the awkward silence made me uncomfortable, so I babbled on. “Besides, she’s in Illinois, and the universe doesn’t cover travel expenses.”

  “It’s important.”

  “Do you know what happened to you?” When I saw spirits, they showed me their healthy selves, other than a few exceptions, obviously. Brian wasn’t any different. He didn’t appear sick or injured, just an older version of the boy I loved years ago.

  Though his sandy brown hair, still worn high and tight, was grayer, and his eyes not as blue as I remembered, he was still the tall, skinny guy I once couldn’t live without. A little wrinkled and worn around the edges, and resembling his father more than ever, but not old enough to be dead.

  “I’m not really sure. One minute I was on the water, and the next I was staring at myself on the boat while my best friend tried to resuscitate me.”

  “On May twenty-fifth, twenty-nineteen?”

  “Yup. At least that’s what I’m assuming.”

  “That’s today. You died today.”

  “Seems like it’s been longer than that.”

  “Was your wife with you?” I hated myself for not remembering her name, but I didn’t want to make that obvious.

  He nodded. “Yeah, the whole family was.” He floated around the small room. “Crap. This isn’t good. I…I should go back, shouldn’t I? She probably needs me.”

  “I’m sure she does, but you can’t help her at the moment. What’s so important that you need me to talk to her about?” I hoped it was something I could easily handle over the phone or in a letter, but I knew better.”

  He floated to Jake’s counter and examined the few products lying scattered around it. He attempted to pick up the hair gel, but his hand swiped through it. He tried three more times before he shook his head and grunted. “What’s up with that? I was tugging on that rug a few seconds ago, but I can’t touch anything now.”

  “It’s the way it is. I’m told you’ll get used to it.”

  He flickered a bit and the sparkles that outlined his glowing frame dulled. “I don’t feel right.”

  “It takes a lot of energy to do what you’re doing. You need to go rest and recharge. It won’t take long. When you’re ready, come back, and we’ll talk. Just use common sense and act appropriately next time, please.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I’ll tell you sometime, but for now, go.”

  “Where do I go?”

  I shrugged. “Just relax, and it should happen, but I don’t know what the it is. I’ve not experienced it yet.”

  He did as I suggested, and moments later, he was gone. I laid down on my bed and sighed. “Great. Just great.”

  My first love was dead, and I was conflicted.

  * * *

  Jake brought me up a glass of Riesling, my favorite wine, and sat next to me on the bed. “So?”

  “Buttons on your underwear because zippers are out of style?”

  He moved part of my robe to the side and rubbed my leg. “You going to fill me in?”

  I sat up against our gray and white decorative pillows. “Probably not.”

  “Well, that’s not a sign of a great marriage.”

  “We have a great marriage. That’s why I’m not t
elling you.”

  He squeezed my leg and then kept his hand firmly attached to it, but in a kind, gentle way. “It’ll be okay, honey. I’m used to this stuff by now, so stop worrying about how it’ll make me feel.”

  Too many years of marriage to count, and the man thought he knew me. I hated when that didn’t work in my favor. “Brian Carey’s dead.”

  He tilted his head. “Wow, no kidding?”

  I nodded. “No, kidding.”

  His face softened. I figured he probably had something snarky to say, but he didn’t want to come off as insensitive.

  “He’s not here, so go ahead. Say it.” I noticed my eyes watering, and it surprised me, but from the look on Jake’s face, not him.

  “I’m sorry.” He took the wine glass from me, reached over me, set it on my nightstand, and then wrapped me in his arms. “I know he meant a lot to you for a long time, and I know you cherish those memories.”

  I cried into Jake’s shoulder. I would have blamed it on menopause, but the truth was, I was sad for Brian and for me, too. A piece of my history, one that meant a lot to me, and had taught me a lot about love, was gone. Brian and I may have been young, but I never discounted that love as pretend. We’d grown together. We were best friends, and we’d discovered love together. It was beautiful and amazing and tragic, and as I’d matured, I’d grown to appreciate the memories, to value them for the experience they’d given. I pulled away and wiped my eyes. “I’m being silly, I know. It’s just weird.”

  Jake smiled. “I know.” He rubbed my foot with his. “So, what did he say?”

  “He said he needs my help.”

  “I kind of figured that. What kind of help? Standard dead person wants his family to know he’s okay kind of help, or I’ve been murdered, and I need you to find the killer kind of help?”

  I shrugged. “Beats me. He got tired, so I told him to come back later.”

  Jake smiled.