The Skeleton in the Closet, Third Story in Series by Angie Fox...and Lovin' My Readathon!

I closed my eyes, breathing the clean fall air still tinged with the warmth of the fading summer. And I nearly ran smack-dab into the large Civil War reproduction cannon sponsored by the Sugarland Heritage Society. In my defense, it hadn't been there yesterday. The lawn outside the library— heck, the entire town square— had been transformed. With good reason. Today was the first day of the annual Cannonball in the Wall Festival.
 As far as parties went, Cannonball in the Wall Day was right up there with Christmas, Easter, and the biscuits-and-gravy breakfast at Lulabelle Mason's house. 
This year would be even better. A History channel documentary crew had rolled into town to film the celebration, and it seemed every man, woman, and child from four counties had descended on us like bees to honey butter. "Melody?" I called, spotting a blonde with a ponytail through the crowd. I strained to get a better look. "Melody!" I waved. 
The woman turned and I realized it wasn't my sister. This perky blonde was an actress I'd seen on television. I didn't know whether to be impressed or frustrated. I'd told Melody I'd meet her near the library, but that was before we realized what a spectacle this year's event was going to be. It might take some doing to pick her out of the larger-than-usual crowd. 
I ran a hand along the gun barrel of the old cannon, over the layers of caked-on paint, warm from the sun. During the war, Tennessee was one of the most divided states in the nation, and our boys had gone off to fight on both sides. That left the town vulnerable when the Yankee army came through in 1863. The local militia fought to keep everyone safe, but our homes and businesses were on fire all around them. We thought it was over when the Yankees got their cannon up and shot straight into the town square. 
Wouldn't you know it, that ball did not explode. It lodged deep in the wall of the Sugarland Library for everyone to see. That small victory gave our ancestors the extra bit of spit and vinegar they needed to drive the invaders out and save our town. The preacher at the time declared it a miracle. While I wasn't so sure faulty explosives qualified as the hand of God, the entire town had assembled to celebrate every year since. We'd come together— people of all different backgrounds and walks of life— and we'd saved the place we loved. The Cannonball in the Wall Festival reminded us to be grateful for that. A smile tickled my lips and I couldn't help but gaze at the rusting iron cannonball still embedded in the white limestone near the foundation of the historic library. Soon everyone would know our story.
"Five dollars for a picture with the cannonball," barked a scratchy voice to my right. I turned to find Ovis Dupre's thin, bent frame nearly on top of me. The old man didn't understand the concept of personal space. Instead, he drew even closer with his vintage Polaroid. 
"No, thank you," I said, doing my best to duck around him while taking care to be kind. He meant well. Besides, I couldn't afford to alienate any of my neighbors after a recent event had left my reputation a little questionable...

~~~

The Skeleton in the Closet: 

The Southern Ghost Hunter Mysteries

By Angie Fox

Folklore developed in a community can drawn people together in celebration--whether that folklore is true or not. That was the case when The Cannonball in the Wall became an annual celebration for the town of Sugarland. Of course, the cannonball in question happened to be shot into the side of the town library...but that's part of the story yet to be considered...

Everybody in town was involved in the preparation, especially Melody, Verity's sister, who worked at the library. Exhibits of family antiques and other valuables of the time period were to be placed on display. Two of the oldest families soon began to compete on how big (and, of course, the best) their individual displays were... And, so it was that, the town's volunteer of the year, and others, were soon overwhelmed to create acceptable exhibit areas within the library itself. Soon all of the volunteers had left for the night. Only Darla Grace remained.

But before she finally left, she had called Melody early morning and explained that she'd found something very important and needed to share it as quickly as possible... Melody asked Verity to go with her to help with the remaining work on the displays. But when they got to the library, Darla Grace wasn't there to greet them...

"I was here until almost two this morning. I could barely see straight." We headed for the back door of the building. "Even then, Darla Grace wouldn't quit. Not that I'm one to do anything halfway, but let's just say that when this woman volunteers, she volunteers. I left her sorting through an antique secretary." 

I took a sip of the drink. It was hot, delicious. "That does sound kind of fun." I loved looking through antiques. Melody swung the door open. "True. But Darla Grace really does need to learn when enough is enough," she said. "She left me a message at three this morning, saying I had to get back down here. She'd found something urgent." Melody took a fortifying sip of coffee. "Luckily, I didn't get the voice mail until I woke up," she added under her breath. "What could be so important in a bunch of old letters?" 

"Maybe you'll have to expand the exhibit again," I said, half joking. I loved history as much as the next person, but preserving it should be a labor of love, not this battle between the families. Every light in the library blazed. "You're going to have to preserve this month's electric bill for posterity," I said, trying to get her to smile a little. "It'll be epic." I was glad to see Melody's mouth tug into a grin as we walked down a back hallway and up the stairs to the main level. 

"It'll be fine," she said. "I just worry about Darla sometimes. She needs to learn to take it easy and treat herself better. Maybe I could teach her some of my yoga stretches." "And hope she survives." Melody was as bendy as an acrobat. 

I pushed open the doorway to the main reading room and let my sister enter first. "Darla," she called, "we're here." Velvet-covered tables spanned the edges of the historic high-ceilinged room, which was packed with artfully displayed Civil War muskets, family albums, and letters sent home by long-dead war heroes. Headless mannequins stood in full military uniform. The room appeared even larger now that

they'd taken out all the heavy wood tables. The catering company would replace them with sleek serving stations for the banquet. 
My footsteps echoed in the cavernous space..."It was all in someone's attic last month," Melody said. 
"Try yesterday." I snorted. One of the display cards proudly declared its contents as part of "How the Jacksons Saved Sugarland."
"The Wydells are on the other side," Melody said, sipping her coffee.

"Of course." We wouldn't want their artifacts to mingle. "Maybe Darla finally went home," Melody said. "Although if that was the case, I wish she would have locked up." She ventured past me. "I'm going to head into the donations room and see how far she got."

~~~

Verity was the one to see the shoe...They found her under one of the display tables, obviously dead for some time...

And since she had been there alone, there were no witnesses... except...of course, any ghosts haunting the library!

Since the library had been used during the war as a hospital, this story is sadder than some others since the place was filled with beds, patients, and nurses, all continuing to go through the life they had during that time period. Of course,

Frankie joined a card game of a small group and got the conversation going. Verity soon learned that one of the ghosts who was normally shut off from the rest because he was a Yankee had said that he'd seen it happened... "The beast insisted he saw a man use a bayonet on a lady," he said. "She had a discovery that would change everything. We told him he was wallpapered."

But he was back now in the lower floors of the library where he lived and nobody was going to show her the way there...

She found him reading Interview with the Vampire. And with Verity immediately exclaiming that she loved the book, a new friendship was born...

Of course, the police continued to work their case, but without Verity's contribution, well, I certainly didn't foresee who the murderer was...so, it's a very good thing that Verity could talk to ghosts, don't you think?! 

It's a little hard to prefer one book over another when you love the who series and are reading them all at once... But I did like the ghostly interaction in this book as one of the best, especially when Verity goes back and helps a certain private write a letter...

What? You want more, well another short is coming next-- Ghost of a Chance!


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Southern Spirits by Angie Fox - Series Debut

Frankie scooted to the edge of the counter. "Now listen up. 'Cause here's what we do," he said, clasping his hands in front of him, his elbows resting on his knees.
"What we do?" I asked. I didn't recall teaming up with a dead gangster. 
"Oh?" He opened his hands. "So you have ideas?" 
"No," I said grudgingly. He scratched at his long, thin nose. "Okay, here's the deal. Old lady Hatcher's not-so-dearly departed husband came across some cash in 1965." He gave me a long look. "It's more than you need." 
My spine stiffened. He was talking about saving my house. Whatever he was about to suggest couldn't be good. Did I dare? 
"How did the money come about?" I absolutely refused to get involved in anything illegal. 
Frankie shrugged. "He bet his entire mortgage payment on a long-shot horse. The damn thing won. He hid the money on his property. Only he was an idiot and died right after he stashed it." 
I'd heard that last part of the story. Maisie Hatcher had dug up every tree, shrub, and flower patch in her backyard, looking for the fortune her husband hid. "She swore there was money under one of the trees on her property. We always thought she was crazy." 
The corner of his mouth turned up. "It's not under a tree. It's hidden in a box with a tree carved on the top." 
Well, didn't that beat all? I strolled toward the ghost, feeling brave. Or maybe I needed to show him that I wasn't as scared anymore. "You'd think her husband could have left better directions." 
He shrugged. "Oskar Hatcher was an asshole. Still is." 
I cocked my head. "How do you know?" 
"He's behind you." The air left my body. I screeched and spun around fast, my heart jackhammering against my chest. I couldn't see anything in the dark. 
"Where is he?" Frankie's chuckle behind me sounded like gravel over rocks. 
"Your friend's right. You really are gullible." "You're such a jerk." A chill washed over me as the sweat on my body cooled. I turned back to him. 
"How long were you watching me?" 
He didn't buckle under my stare. "Don't flatter yourself. I spend most of my time picking up dames at the cemetery. Or I tool around, see who's manifesting." He grinned. "Those Johnny Rebs from the 12th Infantry throw a wicked poker game. And half of 'em don't know how to bluff." He stood taller. "I did stick around for the sale. I can't believe that crappy lawn furniture went before I did." 
He'd succeeded in wigging me out on about ten different levels. But now wasn't the time to think about it. I needed to channel my inner Scarlet O'Hara. I'd asked for a miracle and I'd gotten one… sort of. At least I'd been given one more chance, with money that was more or less clean. Abandoned, at least. "Okay, so we go to Maisie Hatcher's house," I began. 
"Wait. You can't leave here." 
He cocked his head. "I can if I'm with you." 
I stood surprised for a moment, and not in a good way. "Okay. We'll leave. We'll talk to Maisie..."

~~~

I fell in love with this series from the first book! It is delightful, so delightful that I knew I wanted to read the entire series and follow it... Haven't said that for a very long time. But, hey, with a gutsy young lady who backed out of a wedding with the most eligible bachelor in town, when she discovers her fiancee assaulting her sister, is my kind of woman!

And it certainly wasn't her fault that that same fiancee had once given her a funeral urn containing the ashes of a long-departed relative! 

Well, let's go back to the wedding reception where Verity had appeared after leaving Beau, her fiancee at the altar and then attacked him at the reception...where his mother fainted, and then promptly thereafter sued Verity for the costly wedding that she had arranged for her son! Life is just not fair! But she didn't want to have the gossip all over their small town about what he'd done to her sister, as well as cheating on her with several other women...

So she was now living in her empty beautiful family home which she'd inherited from her grandmother. She'd sold everything that she could bear giving up, which was most everything, but she still owed $20,000 and the house was to be auctioned for that!

One of the things that had not sold was that old gift from Beau which she thought was a vase. Deciding to leave it on the mantel for the sale, she looked inside and realized how dirty it was, went outside and poured the contents around the rosebush and watered it down so it'd sink in...

And there was Frankie...who promptly screamed out what she'd done. Give you this, Verity is one cool lady and it didn't take long for her to adjust to seeing a ghost and begin to discuss what had been happening and why she had even had his ashes... But no matter what, Frankie was now doomed to live under a rose bush and could no longer roam free to pursue his former life as, now, a gangster ghost, as he had done while living... Of course, his hat covered the bullet hole in his forehead, and he appeared only in black and white, but Verity soon was at least talking with him, both wondering what to do next...

Bottom line, if Verity didn't find $20,000 immediately, for Frankie, he'd be stuck at a home where new people would be invading at any moment... He decided to help...

He just happened to know a certain ghost who had made a bundle on a race but who had died before he could use it...and Frankie would help Verity find it!

One thing you'll quickly find out about Verity is that she is completely honest, while Frankie is completely the opposite, so you'll be reading many negotiation discussions about what Frankie wants to do versus what Verity is willing to allow! And these discussions are so much a part of the fun found by all readers!

And the problem with getting the money was that the widow of the man who'd hidden the money had been looking for it for years and was barely getting by herself...

Even worse, when they entered the house where the money had been hidden, let's just say that Frankie wasn't the only ghost there...

I gripped my flashlight and summoned up my courage. "I love my house," I reminded myself on a whisper before squeezing my eyes shut tight. I steeled my courage, made sure my mouth was closed firm, and stepped forward. I love my house. I held my breath and reached out my hands. They tangled in the cold, filmy, sticky, otherworldly web. I love my house. I pressed forward as it touched my face and wound through my hair. I love my house. I screamed it in my head as the fibers caressed my arms and goose bumps rippled over my skin. That web felt like a living, breathing entity. It stretched out in front of me, surrounding me, blocking my way until… With a soft whoosh, I broke through.

The merge of the ghost interaction with actually solving a mystery is what makes this series so special. The characters are outstanding in their developed personalities. Each have stories that will draw you to care about them, especially some of the ghosts! Who knew?!😏

This author has a great gift in her story telling. It's imaginative, it's endearing, heartwarming, and yet, scary enough to enjoy being a little afraid... I especially enjoy the skill given to Verity in negotiating and working through tough situations, with humans...or...not...  No wonder Fox is a best selling author and I'm certainly glad I finally found her! Next review on a short story, A Ghostly Gift... Enjoy!


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