Old Acquaintance Read online

  Old Acquaintance

  A MARY O’REILLY PARANORMAL MYSTERY

  (Book Nineteen)

  by

  Terri Reid

  OLD ACQUAINTANCE

  A MARY O’REILLY PARANORMAL MYSTERY (BOOK 19)

  by

  Terri Reid

  Copyright © 2017 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 resold 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.

  The author would like to thank all those who have contributed to the creation of this book: Richard Reid, Sarah Powers and, the always amazing, Hillary Gadd. She would like to also thank Peggy Hannah, John and Vicki Daley and Mark Buus.

  She would also like to thank all of the wonderful readers who walk with her through Mary and Bradley’s adventures and encourage her along the way. I hope we continue on this wonderful journey for a long time.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-one

  Chapter Sixty-two

  Chapter Sixty-three

  Chapter Sixty-four

  Chapter Sixty-five

  Chapter Sixty-six

  Chapter Sixty-seven

  The End

  Prologue

  Tiny, white lights sparkled, tinsel glittered, and the electric fireplace glowed warmly, sending shadows of flames on the gifts laying underneath the Christmas tree. The brightly-colored lights from outside the house were covered in several inches of snow, causing the shrubs to glow softly in the early morning darkness.

  The house was quiet as the ten-year-old boy padded down the carpeted stairs from his bedroom to the living room where his target awaited. He carefully placed his feet on the outer edges of the stairs, avoiding any sounds of creaking wood. The last thing he wanted to do was wake any member of his family on this early Christmas morning.

  The family cat, seeing young Tony, fled from its warm perch on the back of the sofa to the safety of the cold kitchen. Tony didn’t even notice the animal’s departure, because he was so focused on the items next to the tree.

  He paused next to the dollhouse for his sisters. He had been able to pick the lock on his father’s workroom and had watched the progress of the house as his father had painstakingly created a miniature replica of their own house, complete with carpet scraps and wallpaper pieces. The project had taken his father weeks to complete. “What a total waste of energy,” Tony said disdainfully, sneering at the toy.

  He glanced around the rest of the tree. There, in another corner, was the G.I. Joe doll his little brother had wanted, although why a boy would want a doll was a mystery to Tony. He continued to search, looking behind the couch and chair, and even searching in the other rooms, but the present he had asked for was not there.

  An ember of rage smoldered in the pit of his belly. I never get what I want, he decided. Mom and Dad are always unfair. They always give the younger kids everything. I hate them. I hate them all.

  He walked through the first floor into the kitchen and then found the door to the basement. Switching on the light, he walked down the stairs and unlocked his father’s workroom. A basket of rags lay on a pile in one corner. Tony took a can of lighter fluid down from the shelf and soaked the rags thoroughly. Then he took a box of matches from the same shelf and lit the pile, smiling as the flames slowly caught and the soaked rags ignited. He made his way around the fire, closed the workroom door and then carried the can of lighter fluid and the matches back upstairs.

  He slipped on his boots and took his coat off the rack near the back door. Then he walked back into the living room and emptied the rest of the container of lighter fluid onto the gifts underneath the tree. With great satisfaction, he set a match to the top of the dollhouse and watched with glee as it was consumed by fire.

  The lower branches of the tree lay near the dollhouse, and they started to turn red. Then, suddenly, with a loud whoosh, the entire tree was encompassed with flames that spread to the drapes and then onto the wall.

  Tony put the empty container and box of matches on the table in the front hallway. Then he quietly opened the door and let himself out. He buttoned his coat and walked to the middle of the front lawn, watching the fire spread throughout the house with growing delight. I told them I wanted a bike for Christmas, he thought. They should have bought me a bike.

  Later that morning, as the firemen and ambulance drivers removed the charred remains of the family from the house, one young fireman rolled a bright red, Schwinn bike out of the garage, which was the only part of the home that hadn’t been destroyed.

  “This had a ribbon and a tag on it,” the young man said, his heart breaking for the lone survivor of the housefire. “Are you Tony?”

  Tony nodded and smiled at the man. “Thank yo
u,” he said. “It was just what I wanted.”

  The fireman was surprised at the joy in the child’s face, especially after just seeing the ambulances leave with his entire family.

  “I guess your parents wanted you to have a Merry Christmas,” he said.

  Tony shrugged. “They should have left it under the tree.”

  Chapter One

  Christmas music was softly playing through the computer, and Mary was sorting through boxes of Christmas decorations. “Oh, this is really lovely,” she said, picking up an antique, blown-glass ornament that shone with iridescent colors.

  Bradley glanced over from the desk and smiled. Mary was on the floor in the middle of the living room, surrounded by boxes and totes of Christmas things. She had tinsel on her shoulder and a bit of glitter on her nose where she must have itched herself. There were piles of ornaments all over the floor, but there didn’t seem to be any organization going on there at all. “That was from my great-grandmother on my dad’s side,” he said. “She brought it with her from Sweden.”

  “Sweden,” Mary said in awe, studying it as she lifted it up and twirled it by the attached ribbon. “How cool is that?”

  “So, which of your piles are you going to put it in?” he asked, a teasing smile on his face.

  She glanced over at him, her eyes narrowing at the slight mocking in his voice. “I have a system here,” she said defensively, waving her arm over the six different piles on the floor.

  She placed the glass ornament on the first pile. “This pile is the ‘we definitely use, but have to be careful with’ pile,” she explained.

  “We have to be careful with?” Bradley asked.

  Nodding, Mary picked the glass ornament up again. “You know, put them someplace on the tree where they can’t get accidentally knocked off.”

  “Does that happen to you often?” he asked. “Spontaneous Christmas ornament projectiles?”

  Rolling her eyes, she huffed with frustration. “Did you forget that this will be the first Christmas with a kitten in the house?” she asked. “Lucky has knocked things off every surface she can get onto. I’m thinking the Christmas tree will be just one more notch in her kitty collar.”

  “Okay, good point,” he said, and then he pointed to the next pile. “What’s this one?”

  Mary put the glass ornament down and picked up a sturdy, wooden nutcracker ornament. “This is the ‘nothing can hurt us” pile,” she explained. “These ornaments can go on the bottom tier of the tree because they’re indestructible.”

  “Trees have tiers?” Bradley asked.

  She studied him for a moment. “I have to say, I’m shocked at your lack of Christmas tree education,” she said, shaking her head. “Wow, you’re pretty much demoted to minion elf.”

  “And what does a minion elf get to do?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Well, you obviously don’t get to decorate trees if you don’t even know about tiers. And I’ve seen your efforts at present wrapping, so we won’t even go there,” she replied, biting back a smile. “Your Christmas cookie decorating wasn’t bad, but you ate more than you decorated.”

  “Hey, they were good. I couldn’t help myself,” he said.

  “Self-control,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s the first rule of being an elf.”

  He slipped out of his chair, carefully made his way through the festive piles on the floor, sat down next to her and began massaging her back. He leaned over and whispered into her ear. “So, what does a minion elf get to do?” he asked.

  She closed her eyes and sighed happily. “Oh, that feels so great,” she said.

  He continued to massage her, and she leaned forward until her belly stopped her.

  “So, what does a minion elf get to do?” he repeated, rubbing her lower back.

  “Well,” she exhaled softly, “I was going to say pick up reindeer poop. But, now…” she moaned as his hands slipped up her back and he massaged her shoulders.

  “Now?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

  “Now, you can do anything you want to do,” she whispered.

  He slid his arms from her shoulders and pulled her back into his arms. He looked down at her and smiled. “Anything?”

  She looked up at him, her heart filled with love. “Well, not anything,” she smiled back. “At least not down here. We don’t want to crush the ornaments.”

  He chuckled softly, the vibrations sending chills through Mary’s body. “Why don’t we go upstairs for some minion elf training?” he suggested, one eyebrow raised.

  “Well, I really should…” Mary began.

  He leaned down and nibbled on the side of her neck.

  “Oh,” she breathed, feeling the warmth spreading throughout her body. “You do that really well.”

  He lifted his head. “Upstairs?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Oh, yes, upstairs.”

  He stood and took both of her hands to help her up, then pulled her into his arms. “I love you, head elf,” he said.

  “I love you…” she began when the door burst open.

  “We should just cancel Christmas!” Clarissa exclaimed, dumping her backpack on the ground. “It’s just a big, fat lie anyway.”

  Chapter Two

  “Minion training is postponed,” Bradley whispered to Mary with regret, and she nodded in agreement.

  Carefully stepping around the piles of ornaments, Bradley walked over to Clarissa. “So, what happened today?” he asked.

  With tear-filled eyes, she looked up at him. “On the bus, some of the older boys were talking,” she said, her voice filled with emotion. “And they said there is no such thing as Santa Claus.”

  “Who were those boys?” Bradley asked. “I’m going to call—”

  “Are those the same boys who don’t believe in ghosts?” Mary asked, interrupting Bradley.

  Clarissa turned to Mary and nodded.

  Mary grinned. “Well, that proves how smart they are,” she said, following Bradley’s trail through the ornaments and making her way to Clarissa. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen, grab a snack and discuss this.” She smiled at Clarissa. “Well, that is, if your father left us any cookies.”

  A giggle from Clarissa eased both of her parents’ hearts.

  A few minutes later, they were seated around the table with glasses of milk and a plate of cookies to share.

  Mary studied her nine-year-old daughter for a moment, then asked her a question. “Clarissa, what do you think about what those boys said? About Santa not being real?”

  Lowering her eyes, Clarissa was silent for a few moments. Then she looked up, first meeting Bradley’s eyes and then Mary’s. “I think they’re right,” she said softly. “I don’t think there really is a Santa Claus.”

  Nodding slowly, Mary smiled at her daughter. “Now, that answer tells me that you’re ready for some truth about Santa Claus,” she said. “There are two different ways to believe in Santa. One way is to believe like a child, that Santa brings all kinds of toys and goodies. That he rides in a sleigh pulled by reindeer and lives at the North Pole with elves.”

  She studied Clarissa. “Does that sound like the Santa you used to believe in?” she asked.

  Clarissa sighed and nodded.

  “And it’s wonderful that you did believe in that Santa,” Bradley said. “Because it gave us a chance to get you things and surprise you. We get to play Santa and watch the joy on your face on Christmas morning.”

  “So, you’re not going to be happy on Christmas morning anymore?” Clarissa asked.

  Mary chuckled and shook her head. “Actually, that’s where the other belief in Santa comes in,” she said. “Saint Nickolas was a very good man who lived a long time ago. He was wealthy, and he enjoyed using his wealth to bless others. He loved the story about Jesus being born and the wise men bringing gifts. So, on Christmas night, he would travel around his community and leave gifts for children so they too could remember the love and beauty of that special night.�
�

  “You know,” Bradley said after biting a head off a reindeer. “Your mom knows Santa Claus personally.”

  Wide-eyed, Clarissa turned to Mary. “You do? You honestly do?” she asked.

  Mary smiled and nodded. “But this is one of those family secrets,” she said, lowering her voice, “that we can’t share with the general public.”

  Used to family secrets, Clarissa nodded. “But you do know him?” she questioned.

  “Yes, I do,” she said. “I met him when I first moved to Freeport. It was my first Christmas here, and because of a storm, I couldn’t go back home to Grandma and Grandpa O’Reilly.”

  “So, you were all alone at Christmas?” the little girl asked.

  Mary placed her hand on Clarissa’s head and stroked her soft hair. “I thought I was going to be alone,” she confessed. “And I was pretty sad. But then I met Stanley and Rosie, and they helped me.”

  “So, they met Santa too?” Clarissa asked.

  “Well, he was in the same room as they were,” Mary said with a smile. “And Rosie said she felt something, but they couldn’t see him because he’s a spirit.”

  “Santa’s a ghost?” Clarissa asked, cocking her head to the side. “I never knew that. How does he get all those toys and the reindeer and the elves if he’s a ghost?”

  “So, when he was alive, he was Santa Claus?” she asked.

  “Yes. Yes, he was,” she agreed. “And because he was so good, and because he loved the birth of Jesus so much, when he died, God gave him a special job. During the Christmas season, he visits the earth and helps all of us to feel the wonder and joy of the season.”

  “The spirit of Christmas?” Clarissa asked.

  “Exactly,” Mary said. “He, Santa Claus, is the Spirit of Christmas. He influences us to have good will towards each other and to remember what this celebration is all about.”

  Clarissa sighed softly. “So, he doesn’t bring gifts,” she said sadly.

  “No, but he influences others to give gifts and share their love,” Bradley said. “So, in a way, he does bring gifts.”

  “And he doesn’t have a naughty and nice list?” she asked.

  “No, he doesn’t,” Bradley said. “And I’m really sorry that you learned that because now I can’t bribe you to be good with Santa anymore.”