A Killer Welcome by Dionne Lister

Author:Dionne Lister [Lister, Dionne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781922407153
Publisher: Dionne Lister

Chapter 16

Was today the day I was going to get essential information regarding Fiona’s death? I was hoping. I dressed in my baby-pink skirt and tailored jacket and wore a white camisole top underneath. I paired this with nude peep-toe heels. I didn’t always wear heels because even though they looked great, they were ridiculously uncomfortable. It was a mile walk to the office, so I put the shoes in a plastic bag and wore sneakers. I wasn’t totally immune to pain.

Despite the fact that it was summer, the top temperature today was only going to be eighteen degrees Celsius. That was an average winter temperature in Sydney, so I definitely needed the jacket. The charcoal sky threatened more rain. We’d had a downpour about half an hour before I left the house, but the weather gods had seen fit to give me a decent window of non-rain to get to work. I did have an umbrella, thanks to Meg. She’d grabbed it from their lost property box. This one had been sitting there for a year, so she was certain no one was going to claim it.

Dinner last night had been awesome. Meg was wonderful company, and we got along well. She’d left at eleven, and then I’d called to Fiona, just in case she had any other information, but she didn’t respond. Crazy as it was, I worried about her. Could bad things happen to ghosts when they were in that in-between realm? Was there someone I could even ask about this stuff? I’d have to look into it, but not in this village. The last thing I needed was to weird people out and become an outcast.

As I reached the home stretch, a high-pitched grating sound came from the road to my left. I jerked around. A red car slid out of control. Bang! I cringed as it crashed into a white car that had stopped for the postal van picking up the mail. My heart raced, and my breathing came faster. It’s okay, Avery. No lightning is coming. Despite my PTSD, my first instinct was to run and help—that had been how I was before the accident. Now I hesitated. Time to force some deep, slow breaths while I counted to fifteen. Once my brain was on board with the fact that I wasn’t in any danger, I did the journalistic thing and pulled my phone out of my bag and started filming. I was sure that was a crappy thing to do, but I needed more stories this week, and this was definitely a story. Two other passers-by had run to help the white car jammed in the middle. I rushed across the road to the red car.

An old lady with a helmet of grey permed hair sat there looking around the car. I knocked on her window. She turned and opened it. At least there was no blood. “Are you okay?”

“I— I think so.” She was a slim woman who wore her wrinkles elegantly, along with her white blouse and pearl earrings.

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