Good Tidings - a Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery Read online

  Good Tidings - A Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery

  by

  Terri Reid

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Terri Reid

  GOOD TIDINGS - A MARY O’REILLY PARANORMAL MYSTERY

  Copyright (c) 2010 by Terri Reid

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  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. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  ****

  Prologue - Black Friday

  The superstore was filled with holiday shoppers who, in the spirit of the season, battled for remaining Black Friday Specials. Patrice Marcum shook her head in amazement as two middle-aged women fought over the last pair of flannel pajama pants marked down to $4.99. As she pushed her cart down an adjacent aisle, she heard the unmistakable sound of a garment being torn in half.

  Andy Williams’ mellow voice, sounding tinny through the store’s PA system, was reminding shoppers this, indeed, was the most wonderful time of the year. Patrice felt her eyes begin to water again. Don’t think about it, she ordered herself silently, concentrate on positive things.

  Her three-month old son, Jeremy, lying in the baby carrier strapped to the front of the cart, started to stir. She knew it was time to feed him, but if he could only sleep another half-hour, she would be able to finish her shopping and get home. Diapers, milk, bread - the essentials she couldn’t do without - were needed.

  What in the world was I thinking, attempting to go grocery shopping on Black Friday? She chided herself, I wasn’t thinking.

  So caught up in a blue funk of holiday depression, she hadn’t given a thought to the day after Thanksgiving. She initially considered just going to the local convenience store, but the prices of the items on her list were easily doubled there and money was another scarce commodity in her household.

  Trying to block out the holiday music and trappings of the season displayed on every end cap, she moved towards the back of the store where diapers and other baby essentials were offered. She didn’t want lights, garlands, pumpkin pie mix, cookie sprinkles or the newest Lego gift pack. She just wanted to get out of the store with her meager supplies before her baby woke up.

  A small crowd stood waiting for a clerk to bring the second pallet of big screen high-definition televisions out to the middle of the electronics area. A young boy stood by his father, his face wreathed in smiles. “Mom’s gonna be surprised, ain’t she, Dad?” he said. “A big screen TV is better than a washing machine any day!”

  A shadow of a smile flitted over Patrice’s face. She glanced at the boy and his father, their eyes sparkling with delight, and sorrow washed over her again. She needed to get out of the store before she lost control.

  Adding diapers to the cart, she moved to the front of the store. The cash register lines were ten and twelve carts long.

  I’ll never get out of here.

  She gave a cursory look at all of her choices and finally decided Aisle 12 looked like the best option. No sooner had she pulled into the line than several more shoppers moved in behind her. She was committed to this line now.

  “Price check. Aisle 12.”

  Patrice looked up and saw the cashier holding a pair of flannel pajama pants, scouring it for a ticket.

  “They were on sale,” the woman insisted, “They are in your flyer.”

  Patrice recognized her as one of the women struggling over the final sale pair.

  The cashier shook her head. “I don’t think this was the brand advertised. And since it doesn’t have tags on it, I have to check.”

  “Are you implying I took the tags off?” the woman bellowed.

  Patrice silently applauded when the cashier calmly shook her head and politely replied, “Oh, no, of course not, but I have to make sure I charge you the correct price.”

  The woman snarled. “Well, never mind,” she said. “I don’t have time to wait for one of your lazy clerks to find their way up here. I don’t want those.”

  The cashier smiled patiently. “Really, it will only be a moment.”

  “I said I don’t want them,” the woman yelled. “What, are you, deaf as well as incompetent?”

  “Merry Christmas,” Patrice muttered, feeling her strength and her patience fading away.

  Fifteen minutes later, with two more people in front of her, Jeremy woke and decided to let everyone know he was hungry. He started with a whimper. Patrice patted his tummy and spoke softly, “It’s okay sweetheart, just a few more minutes and you can eat.”

  She found his pacifier and placed it in his mouth. He was not happy and let her know by popping it out of his mouth and letting out a resounding wail followed by heartbreaking cries. Patrice pushed the cart back and forth trying to calm him; he just got louder. She placed the pacifier back in his mouth. He choked and then spit it out once again.

  She knew everyone was staring at her. But, honestly, what was she supposed to do?

  Her turn finally came, she loaded her groceries onto the conveyer belt and moved her cart, with the still screaming Jeremy, to the register.

  The cashier did not greet her and rushed through the checking and bagging process.

  She’s probably trying to get me and my screaming baby out of the store as fast as she can, Patrice thought.

  She dug into her purse and pulled out her wallet. She opened it to find her debit card was not where it was supposed to be. Patrice panicked and tried to remember the last time she used the card. The cashier folded her arms and waited.

  “Just a moment,” Patrice apologized. “I’ve misplaced my debit card.”

  She placed the wallet on the counter and then emptied the rest of the contents of her purse. No debit card. Her stomach dropped. Finally, remembering the stop for gas, just before they had gone to the store, she dug into her coat pocket and retrieved the card. She smiled up at the cashier, but only received an impatient huff.

  Swiping the card, she entered her pin and within moments had her receipt in hand. Pushing her cartload of groceries and screaming baby to the exit doors, she zipped Jeremy’s coat and fastened his hat on his head. He screamed even louder.

  After pushing her cart through the first set of sliding doors, she looked out the next set of glass doors to see a blizzard in front of her.

  The snow was falling so hard she could barely see across the fire lane into the parking lot. Fearless shoppers who had decided to brave the weather found themselves stuck in half-foot tall snow drifts. Several who tried to force their way through the drifts had carts overturning into the snow. Jeremy screamed louder. Patrice was near tears.

  “Excuse me; is there someone
here to help you?”

  Patrice turned and saw an older woman with soft white hair, sparkling blue eyes and a kind smile standing next to her. Patrice shook her head. “No, I’m here by myself,” she said, “I mean, just me and Jeremy.”

  The woman smiled sweetly and peeked over to the screaming baby. “Oh, Jeremy, are you having a bad day?” she asked.

  The baby stopped crying for a moment and hiccupped loudly.

  “Can you call someone to come and help you?” she asked Patrice, “It really is miserable out there.”

  Patrice sadly shook her head.

  “Well, I know you don’t know me from Adam,” the woman said, “But, I would be very happy to help look after little Jeremy while you get your car.”

  Doubt and suspicion warred with basic practicality. She really shouldn’t bring Jeremy out in that weather. And she couldn’t push the cart to the car which was parked at the farthest end of the lot. But, the woman was right; she didn’t know her from Adam.

  “I don’t know…” Patrice said, “I really appreciate it, but…”

  “But you are a careful mother and Jeremy is your precious baby,” the woman interrupted cheerfully.

  Patrice smiled back and nodded.

  “I’ll tell you what,” the woman suggested, “I’ll call over one of the store associates and he and I will wait together while you get your car. This way, you will have someone who knows how to watch over babies and someone from the store. Will that be helpful?”

  “I don’t want to be a bother,” Patrice began.

  The woman put her hand on Patrice’s arm. “Oh, honey, don’t be silly,” she said, “You’re a new mother. You should be taken care of.”

  Patrice watched the woman walk inside the store and flag down an associate, an older man with an understanding smile. He wore a heavy coat, but because it was unzipped, she could see the regulation blue-colored shirt, khaki pants and identification hanging from his lanyard, displaying “Ron.”

  “You just take your time getting your car,” Ron said, “I’ll enjoy having a little break looking after this whippersnapper.”

  Patrice smiled and this time the tears filling her eyes were ones of gratitude. “Thank you so much,” she said, “I really appreciate it.”

  The woman shook her head. “I should be thanking you,” she said, “It’s not often I get to look after a sweet baby. My grandchildren are too far away.”

  “Well, thanks again. I’ll be right back,” Patrice said.

  She grabbed her purse from the cart and slogged through the deepening snow to her minivan. It took her several minutes to get to the van and then several more to clean the snow off the windows. She was so thankful Jeremy was safely inside.

  She climbed in the van, pushed defrost on, turned the heat up to high and shifted into reverse. The crush of cars in the parking lot made travel back to the entrance slow.

  Patrice pulled up as close as she could to the sliding doors. She hopped out of the driver’s seat and jogged over to the entrance. She looked inside the first set of sliding doors and didn’t see her cart. Her heart thudded with panic.

  She took a deep breath. Well, of course they’re waiting inside where it’s warmer, she chided herself, stop being such a worry wart.

  She walked inside and looked around. No cart. No Jeremy. She pushed her way to the front of the customer service desk, ignoring the angry comments of those waiting in line.

  “I left my baby with one of your store associates while I got my car,” she said, “An older man with gray hair. I can’t find him or my baby.”

  The associate behind the customer service desk shook her head. “Did you read his name tag?” she asked.

  Patrice bit back the panic. “It was Ron,” she said, “I’m sure it was Ron.”

  The associate picked up the intercom, “Ron to the front desk immediately, Ron to the front desk. Code Adam.”

  “Code Adam?” Patrice stuttered. “But that’s when…”

  The associate leaned over the counter, “It’s our policy to call Code Adam whenever a child is missing,” she said. “Don’t worry, everything’s probably just fine.”

  “Hi, Jenna, you called me?”

  Patrice turned to see a teenager standing behind her.

  “Ron, did you help this lady?” the associate asked.

  Patrice grabbed the associate’s arm. “No, the man that helped me was older. A grandfather,” she cried.

  Ron shrugged. “I’ve been in the back working stock,” he said, “Sorry.”

  “Is there another Ron working here?” Patrice pleaded.

  They both shook their heads. “Oh, God, my baby,” Patrice screamed, “They’ve taken my baby.”

  “Code Adam,” the associate called into the intercom, “All associates, Code Adam. Baby boy missing from the entrance area.”

  The associate turned to Patrice, “I’m calling the police.”

  *****

  Chapter One

  Mary O’Reilly tried to untangle the garland from the Christmas lights as she perched on the tall ladder in the corner of her office. “Note to self,” she muttered, “Never store the Christmas decorations quickly with the intention of going back and organizing them later.”

  The new bell over her office door jingled over the Christmas Music playing in the small office, announcing someone’s arrival.

  “You know, if you organize them before you put them away, it’s easier to hang them the following year,” Stanley Wagner commented. Stanley was the seventy year-old owner of Wagner’s Office Supplies, the store next door to Mary’s office. Even though he was about four decades older than she, he was one of Mary’s best friends and a decided tease.

  “You think?” Mary replied, continuing to work on an impossible knot.

  Stanley chuckled. “I recall that it was last year at about this time I made that same suggestion,” he said, rubbing his hand over his chin, “You said you were going to do it in the spring, when things slowed down.”

  Mary dropped the garlands and lights back into the box on the floor and slowly climbed down the ladder. “No one likes a know-it-all, Stanley,” she said, “Besides, I’m a private eye, I like puzzles.”

  “Oh, so you wouldn’t be interested in these extra lights and garland we didn’t need next door?” he asked.

  Mary turned and saw the large cardboard box in Stanley’s arms. “Lights and garland that aren’t conjoined?” she asked.

  Stanley nodded. “They are actually in their own individual packages, saved from previous years,” he said.

  Mary shot him a sideways look as she reached for the box. “Is that supposed to be a subtle hint, Stanley?” she asked, “Because it wasn’t subtle and it really wasn’t a very good hint.”

  Stanley laughed. “Want me to give you a hand with these, girlie?” he asked.

  Mary placed the box on her desk and opened it. On top of the layers of neatly packaged lights and garland was an obviously fresh bunch of mistletoe - berries and all. Mary lifted it out of the box. “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Well, no wonder this girl ain’t got no beaus, she don’t even know what mistletoe is.”

  Mary shook her head and put it back in the box. “I know what mistletoe is, Stanley,” she said. “But this is O’Reilly Investigations. There is no place for mistletoe here.”

  Stanley grinned. “Why sure there is,” he said. “Right over there, above the bathroom door. That way, if you get carried away, you can just scoot inside and close the door behind you.”

  Mary couldn’t help herself, she laughed, “Stanley you are incorrigible.”

  The door opened and the bell rang once more. Rosie Pettigrew, a successful real estate broker from down the street entered. Rosie’s white hair was covered with a stylish red beret which, in turn, was coated with a thick layer of snow.

  “Where have you been?” Mary asked, “Alaska?”

  Rosie shook her head, snow flying around her. “It’s a blizzard out there,” she said, “and the
y’re calling for another six inches.”

  Mary looked out the window and saw a thick blanket of snow covering her black 1965 MGB Roadster. “It wasn’t snowing a little while ago,” she said.

  “How long ago?” Stanley asked.

  “Well, I started detangling at about 7:30,” Mary replied.

  “Dearie, it’s nearly ten,” Rosie said. “And, if you don’t mind me saying, if you package up your lights and garlands back in their original packaging when you put them away at the end of the season, they won’t be tangled.”