Phantoms Can Be Murder: Charlie Parker Mystery #13 by Connie Shelton

the table.
    Louisa had mentioned that the
thrift shop had not occupied the space very long and had moved rather abruptly.
Perhaps they’d also experienced some scary phenomena.
    I found the shop easily enough,
with a characteristic window display of gently-used items at bargain prices.
Business seemed to be good—at least a dozen women browsed everything from
overcoats to paperback books. The staff consisted of women in their retirement
years, volunteers filling a few hours of their week and helping a worthy
charity at the same time.
    At my inquiry, a buxom woman whom
I guessed to be in her late sixties stepped forward and introduced herself as
Agatha Dunston.
    “I’m the shop manager,” she said.
“American, are you?”
    I nodded. “Visiting my aunt here
in town. Could we talk for a minute? I’m also trying to help a friend of my
aunt’s with an unusual problem.”
    She led the way to the back of
the shop, where tables of unsorted donations waited.
    “Ask away,” she said, “as long as
you don’t mind my working as we talk.” She picked and pulled items with the
speed of a pro—books, ladies clothing, men’s clothing, knick-knacks—each going
into separate stacks.
    “This friend owns a shop called
The Knit and Purl, and they moved into the shop on the next street over, where
your shop used to be.”
    “Ah, yes, I’d noticed that.”
    “Did you ever experience
anything, uh, unusual in that location?”
    She chuckled. “My job consists of
‘unusual’,” she said, holding up a wide-brimmed straw hat decorated with
peacock feathers and golf balls. “You might need to be more specific.”
    I laughed at the hat and she
laughed even harder.
    “Okay, I see what you mean.” I
started over. “The current tenant of the shop has experienced several incidents
that are downright eerie.” I told her about the inventory of yarn being
completely rearranged. “On other occasions, liquids went from hot to cold very
quickly. More than one person has suggested these events might even be
supernatural. So, I was wondering if something like that might account for your
organization deciding to move on short notice.”
    She smiled and nodded her head
and I began to think she was agreeing with my statement, until I noticed that
her attention was directed toward a fuzzy stuffed chick she’d taken from one of
the donation bags.
    “Oh, no. I’d not heard of
anything strange like that in the old shop. Our decision to move was solely
based on the offer of free rent in this spot. A benefactor owns the building
and said we could use it. Couldn’t say no to that, now could I?”
    “No, I don’t see how.” I fingered
the fabric on a turquoise silk blouse she’d just laid in the women’s clothing
pile. “And you can’t think of anything happening that might hint at the shop
being haunted?”
    Agatha dropped two more blouses
onto the stack. “Not really. Well, there was one odd thing. Several times I’d
be working in the cellar. It’s where I did the sorting. Felt cold drafts a lot
down there. Took to wearing my jacket while I worked.”
    Well, at least my experience
wasn’t imaginary. I thanked her, picked up the turquoise blouse and held it
against myself. It looked to be just the right size. “How much for this?”
    She considered for a moment. “Let’s
say four pounds?”
    “I’ll take it.” I browsed the
paperback books on my way to the register, chose two, and tucked my bagged
purchases under my arm as I left.
    Three unexplained incidents, no
answers. I began to feel a little at a loss as to where to turn next. A glance
at my watch told me that the day was sneaking by and it was probably time for
Louisa to be home from work. I headed toward her place.
    I had offered to take her
somewhere nice for dinner but Louisa seemed more in the mood for simple food
than elegant, so we settled into a corner table at a pub just two blocks from
her house.
    Over glasses of merlot and a
basket of savory bread I filled her