Lost And Found: A Cozy Ghost Mystery (Storage Ghost Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  “And if I think you should stop bidding, I’ll put my hands in my pocket, like this. Got it?”

  “Got it. I think, can you show me again?” Frankie asked.

  Grace’s eyebrows raised and she cast an exasperated glance towards the sky.

  When the secret system had been fully absorbed Big Bob told them to watch the other bidders as they began to bid on the underwear locker. “Some of them have tell signs, things they do when they’re excited.”

  Grace took a step back and watched the crowd as the bidding commenced. Big Bob was right, some people scratched their noses, some rubbed the back of their necks and one man even did a little jig.

  I think I’m getting the hang of this, she decided.

  The underwear locker was sold for an amazing £500.

  Frankie gave a low whistle. “There’s money in knickers. Let’s move on to the next locker, I hope it’s a better one.”

  Grace followed the crowd to the next locker. The door was lifted up to reveal the treasures within.

  She heard Frankie gasp. “The first good locker of the day.”

  Grace nodded but didn’t say anything.

  She had just seen her first ghost of the day.

  Chapter 5

  Grace had realised that she could see ghosts soon after the car accident that had killed her mum and dad. At first she saw wisps of figures, like shadows, in front of her. As she focused her gaze on them the figures became stronger and she could see actual people.

  She had spoken to her first locker ghost the previous week, a teenage boy called Jacob. He had led her to his collection of valuable coins. He had also delivered a message from her father; that she was right about him not being drunk at the time of the accident, and that she would find out exactly what had happened to him through buying storage lockers.

  Grace had assumed that if she spoke to more storage locker ghosts, and help them as she had with Jacob, then her dad could pass on more messages.

  Grace focused on the ghostly figure in the locker. The ghost had stepped forward, apparently from the locker behind. He had shoulder length wavy hair and was wearing a long coat with a big collar. The man seemed to be counting as he stepped forward, towards the unknowing crowd. Grace shuddered when she recognised what he was holding aloft. A duelling pistol.

  The man stopped and raised his arm, he seemed to look straight at her.

  An explosion made her jump, she saw smoke coming from the pistol. The man had a cold, satisfied look in his eyes.

  Grace recovered her posture, she couldn’t take her eyes off the ghost. Who had he shot all those years ago? And why? He looked as if he was from about 200 years ago. Grace knew from her history studies that men in the Georgian era defended their honour by duels. She’d love to step forward and talk to him.

  The ghost disappeared. Then he reappeared at the back of the wall again and repeated his previous performance . Even though she knew he was going to shoot, Grace still jumped when he did so.

  Frankie grabbed her elbow and said, “I think we might win this one, it’s just between us and that weird-looking woman over there.”

  Grace blinked. Had Frankie been bidding? Had she missed it all? She’d been mesmerised by the duelling man.

  Frankie called out, “Two fifty!”

  “Two fifty it is,” Sylvester Sylver repeated. He searched the crowd in front of him. “Anyone give me two seventy five? Anyone? Come on, folks, there’s treasure in those bags. Two seventy five? Last call. Going...going...gone! Two fifty to young Frankie!”

  Frankie leapt for joy, his hand shot up in the air. Grace didn’t know if that was because he’d won the bid or because Sylvester had called him ‘young Frankie’.

  Frankie pulled something out of his pocket and smiled at Grace. “I’ve brought some padlocks to secure our unit. That’s what the professionals do.”

  He positively swaggered as he moved towards the locker. Looking like a cowboy in an old Western, Frankie secured the locker and swayed back to Grace.

  She folded her arms. “Stop walking like that, you look silly.”

  He raised his hand in a pistol shape and pretended to shoot a bullet. “One down, more to go.”

  “What was in that locker anyway?” Grace asked.

  Frankie shrugged. “Some bags, a few boxes. Big Bob spotted things we could put in the shop.”

  “Antiques?” Grace asked hopefully.

  Frankie slowly shook his head. “We’re not going to find many antiques, we’ll have to diversify into household goods. Sorry.”

  Grace touched his arm. “It doesn’t matter, you do what you have to do.”

  “I feel like I’m letting Mum and Dad down. They took years to build the shop up.”

  Grace pressed her lips together and nodded. She finally said something that she hadn’t fully accepted yet. “Frankie, they’re gone.”

  Frankie nodded and said, “I know.” His eyes sparkled slightly, he gave her a bright smile and said, “Follow me, little lady, let’s mosey on down to the next locker.”

  He swaggered away like a drunken cowboy. Grace laughed and followed him. She wondered if the duelling ghost would attach himself to the locker that Frankie had just bought. Jacob, the ghost she had spoken to the previous week, had been attached to the furniture in their first locker. She would have to wait until they took their items away, although the ghost did seem to be walking through from the locker behind.

  Big Bob was waiting for them at the next locker. “I’ve had a look at this one, there’s some old cameras and knick-knacks that people might buy when they’re on holiday. It would be great for you, fill up your shelves nicely.” Big Bob nodded towards the man who Grace had seen jigging about early. “Watch out for Sid, he’s got a market stall, he’ll be after this one. Don’t bid above £450. Okay?”

  Frankie gave an obedient nod.

  The bidding began. Big Bob was right, Sid was interested. His feet were doing a merry dance as the bidding got higher.

  Grace was impressed with how seriously Frankie was bidding, he was almost offhand when he called his bid out.

  Grace hadn’t had a look in the locker so she moved forward. There were lots of brightly coloured items sticking out of bags. Some Hawaiian dolls and leis, a few stuffed donkeys, models of the Eiffel Tower and The Statue of Liberty. She nodded approvingly, someone had been around the world. She liked the items that had been collected, some would call it touristy trash, but she liked it.

  Then she saw him.

  The ghost at the back of the locker. He was waving his arms madly through the bags, his hands passing right through them.

  He looked about sixty, wisps of hair stuck up on his partially-bald head.

  He was muttering something. Grace cocked her head to one side and took a step closer, not too close though, she didn’t want to be thrown out by Sylvester Sylver.

  The man scratched his head. “Where is it? I know it’s here! Where? Where? Where? Arghh!”

  He threw his hands in the air.

  Then he noticed Grace looking at him. He pointed. “You! Girl! You there, you can see me, can’t you?”

  Grace nodded, she didn’t dare ignore him, he sounded like her old head teacher.

  “Get in here and help me find it!”

  Grace whispered, “Find what?”

  “The...the...,” the man stuttered. He suddenly slumped to the ground as if he’d been deflated. He looked up at Grace, and in a quivering voice, he said, “I don’t know. That’s the problem. I have to find something but I don’t know what it is. Will you help me, please?”

  The man looked wretched and heart-broken. There was only one thing she could say.

  “Yes,” she told him.

  The man sagged even more and said, “Thank you. Oh, thank you.”

  Grace suddenly became aware of Sylvester’s voice, “I have four seventy five from Sid, anyone going to give me five hundred? Come on, folks, those cameras look valuable to me.”

  Grace looked at Frankie, his
arms were folded and he was chatting to Big Bob. Big Bob’s hands were firmly in his pockets so Grace assumed they had reached their limit.

  Sylvester cut through her thoughts. “Four seventy five is the bid. Going ... going...”

  “£600!” Grace called out.

  Pairs of eyes swivelled towards her, including confused ones belonging to Big Bob and Frankie.

  Sylvester beamed at her. “You obviously know quality items when you see them, Grace. Anyone for six hundred and twenty five? No? Going...going...gone! To the beautiful young lady on my right!”

  Frankie was at her side in a second. “Grace, what have you done?”

  Grace looked back into the storage unit. The man had gone.

  She swallowed a feeling of panic. Had he really been there? Or had she imagined him there?

  What had she done?

  Chapter 6

  Grace tried to justify her actions on the drive back to the shop.

  “I thought I saw something in the back, it looked as if it was worth something,” she gabbled on. “There could be something in those camera bags, or the cameras themselves might be worth a bit.”

  They stopped at a red light. Frankie turned to look at her. “To be fair, Grace, the money from the coins is half yours, perhaps more yours than mine. I don’t think I would have found them hidden in that mattress.”

  Grace wasn’t going to tell Frankie that a friendly ghost had told her where the coins were. She was never going to tell him that she could see ghosts, he’d have her straight down to the hospital claiming that she was having another breakdown.

  “I’m not bothered about you bidding, and going over our set limit,” Frankie continued. “Do you know why?”

  She shook her head.

  He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and said, “We’ve got a van full of stock. Stock that’s going to make us some money, I don’t know how much and to be honest, I don’t care. We’ve made a start and that’s all that matters.”

  The light turned to green and Frankie sped off.

  Grace looked out of the window. He was so determined to make a go of it, she had to support him. All thoughts of their debts and the evil Eddie Tominski had to be forced from her mind.

  They unpacked their goods straight in to the shop. Frankie placed the holiday souvenirs in the window. It made it look colourful, and, Grace hoped, enticing. Who could resist a dancing leprechaun?

  The shop shelves were soon filled with dishes, cups, ornaments, kettles, toasters - an assortment of household goods.

  “What shall we do with this?” Grace said. She held up a big tea pot that had been in the shop forever. No one had ever shown any interest in it.

  “Put it near the front, under a light. Maybe someone will take a shine to it as they walk in.”

  Frankie’s phone beeped. Grace looked over at him, concern etched on her face. “Is that Eddie Tominski? Don’t lie, Frankie, tell me if it is.”

  He shook his head. “Nope, it’s from Big Bob. He wants me to go around to his shop and look at some website designers on the net. He said it would help us to have an online presence. Whatever that is. He’s going to show me how to get valuations before I place things for sale online.”

  Grace picked up the old cameras and said, “How much should we charge for these?”

  “Don’t know. Stick them under the counter, I’ll look at them later. I think there’s some camera cases to go with them, stick them under too. You don’t mind if I go, do you?”

  Grace gave him a smile. “No, we’re nearly finished here. I’ll give everything a dust before I go home.”

  “You can come with me if you want,” Frankie said with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Give you chance to get to know Big Bob better.”

  Grace was temped to throw a Venetian fan at him but decided the fan might be worth something. She settled for throwing him a disgusted look. “Stop that right now, I’m not interested in Big Bob, or Sylvester Sylver, or anyone. Drop the latch on your way out, thanks.”

  She turned back to the shelves. She heard Frankie chuckling as he left the shop.

  Then she heard another sort of chuckle. It wasn’t Frankie.

  Grace spun around and came face to face with the ghost of the older man from the storage unit, the one that was looking for something.

  The man spoke. “Sibling fights, I remember that quite well. I used to argue with my sister all the time, I knew exactly which buttons to press.”

  Grace looked closer at the man. He had a world-worn face, as her dad used to say. He looked as if he could be sixty, but easily older or younger. His face was lined but his eyes looked young. He was wearing casual trousers and a shirt, the kind that a traveller might wear.

  He held his hand out. “We haven’t formally introduced ourselves. I’m Clive, Clive Arthur.”

  “I’m Grace Abrahams,” Grace said and extended her hand.

  She shivered as Clive passed his hand over hers. A chuckle came from him again. “I’ll wager that felt peculiar, seeing as I’m no longer alive.”

  “You know? That you’re dead?” Grace said. She lowered her hand and put it slightly behind her. She wiggled her fingers discreetly to get some warmth back.

  Clive nodded. “Yes, I know that I’m a ghost. I’ve been stuck in that wretched storage facility for a long time, although it feels like I was alive just yesterday.”

  “Do you know how you died?” Grace asked. “Sorry! That was rude of me.”

  Clive waved his hand. “Not rude at all. I’d ask the same thing if I saw a ghost. All I can remember is sitting at a table with my friends in Paris. We were drinking the most delightful red and then...then I was in that dismal hole where you found me.”

  Grace had many more questions to ask. Clive must have read her mind because he abruptly announced, “We have to start looking! There’s no time to waste!”

  Grace said, “Have you remembered what you’ve lost now?”

  “No idea, Grace. We could be here all night! Or all eternity!”

  Clive let out a deep bellow of a laugh.

  Grace didn’t join in.

  Chapter 7

  “Where shall we start?” Clive rubbed his hands together in glee. “I’ve been stuck in that storage room for so long, it feels good to be doing something again.”

  Grace said, “The thing that you’ve lost must be amongst your belongings, we’ll start there.”

  Clive waved his arm round the shop. “But I’d like to look at the other things you’ve got. I like the look of that old tea pot.”

  Grace didn’t want to sound rude but she had no intention of looking at every single item that they had in the shop. She said firmly, “We’ll look at your belongings, you can look at the other items when we’ve found whatever it is that you’ve lost. Have you any idea at all what it is?”

  Clive’s brow wrinkled as he thought. “I think it’s something small. I feel that there’s an urgency to finding it, almost like somebody’s happiness depends on it. Does that help?”

  “Not really. Let’s start with the souvenirs, there could be something inside one of them. Did you buy all these?” Grace held up the laughing leprechaun.

  Clive laughed. “Got that from a chap in Dublin. It’s the most garish one I’d seen! Cost me two pints of Guinness and £10. Or was it Euros? I can’t quite remember when I bought it.”

  Grace held the ornament higher. There weren’t any holes for something to be shoved into it. “I don’t understand why you bought it if you thought it was garish. Or any of the souvenirs. Although, I do quite like them.”

  Clive nodded. “It wasn’t the souvenirs that I was interested in, it was the people selling them. They were all street traders, all of them obviously in need of money. I paid twice what they were asking on the proviso they let me take a photograph of them. That’s what I do, or did, I’m a photographer. Best job in the world.”

  Grace put the little green man down and moved onto a shell bracelet. The shells were too small to hide anything inside
but she checked anyway.

  Clive pointed at it. “Got that from a cheeky young chap on a beach in Bali. He brought me new things every day, those tie-dye sheets that women wrap around themselves, straw hats and loads of jewellery that he’d made himself. He was so poor but so happy, I admired his spirit.”

  “There’s nothing in here,” Grace said. “You sound like you’ve been to some interesting places.”

  “I have. I was offered the job of a professional photographer when I was about 25. It was a dream come true. It was about the time when holidays were becoming cheaper, around the early 80s. The newspaper that I worked for wanted ‘an ordinary man’ to take these holidays and report back to their readers. People were excited about going on holiday but still wary about what they would find.”

  “Sounds wonderful. Was it a full-time job? What did your family think?”

  A flicker of sadness crossed Clive’s face. He quickly brightened and said, “I didn’t have much of a family, just my parents, they passed away a while ago. And my sister, of course. I saw her and her family whenever I could. Brought my nephews souvenirs back from my travels.”

  Grace hadn’t missed the sad look. “Didn’t you have a home here? Somewhere to come back to?”

  Clive made a show of looking at a wooden banana leaf. Grace couldn’t see his expression but she heard the forced happiness in his voice. “I didn’t need a home, I’m a free spirit, or was. In fact, these things that were stored in that dismal room are all of my belongings. One of my friends must have shipped them back.”

  Clive began to wander around the shop. Grace wanted to ask him more, she could feel his sadness as if it rested like a heavy shawl around his shoulders. She continued to look through Clive’s belongings, searching for goodness knew what.

  After half an hour’s searching Grace said, “Shall we stop for a while? I could do with a cup of tea.”

  Clive smiled. “Ah, the English and their need for tea. Wherever I went in the world, if I met an English person, they would always profess their need for tea.”

  Clive walked over to the counter and sat on the chair behind it. He looked down. “Are these my cameras?”