“Welcome home.” His voice was warm. He gestured toward the station. “A few formalities, then you’ll be free to go.” Would I be free to return to the Department of Good Intentions?
We passed a crystal wall and I glimpsed my reflection. I’d given some thought to my appearance. I wanted to appear businesslike.
Not flighty. I was confident the gray wool pantsuit was appropriate and the Florentine gold of the silk blouse and small gold hoop earrings and crimson scarf almost matched the glow of Heaven. Here I was, Bailey Ruth Raeburn, red hair curling softly about my face, green eyes hopeful though uncertain, home in Heaven.
We walked together into his office. I settled on the bench as he hung his cap on a coat tree. He settled into his oak chair and slipped on his green eyeshade.
I looked out the bay window, admired the shining tracks. Finally, I forced myself to look at him. His eyes were grave.
“I’m sorry to say—”
My heart sank.
“—that never in my experience as stationmaster have I encountered a rescue effort so fraught with—” He stopped, apparently at a loss for words.
I twisted a gold button on my jacket.
He appeared perplexed and muttered to himself, “A flying crowbar. The airborne cell phone. That shocking episode with the mayor.
Destruction of the police station’s computer system, and”—a heavy sigh—“Officer Loy.”
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G h o s t at Wo r k
I started to rise. It would be easier for all concerned, especially me, if I slipped away, left him to regain his composure.
He made a swiping gesture with his hand.
I sank back onto the chair.
His brows beetled in a frown. “However.” He cleared his throat.
That rumble was familiar. Just so had he prefaced our many encounters on earth.
His tone was judicious. “As I should have recalled from my earthly days, good often comes out of difficult circumstances. I returned to earth and do you know what happened?” I feared I knew all too well.
“I Reverted.” His roar capitalized the verb. Wiggins slammed his fist on the desktop. “So how can I be critical when an emissary caught up in the stress of the moment makes unfortunate choices?” I hoped this was a rhetorical question.
He swept ahead. “There’s no denying your shortcomings.” My nod was heartfelt.
“You were inquisitive.” It was a pronouncement.
I twined my scarf in my fingers.
“Impulsive.” He made a chopping motion with one large hand.
My collar felt tight.
“Rash.” A shake of his head, this thick brown hair quivering.
Was the wool of my lovely suit irritating my skin?
“Forthright.” His tone was thoughtful.
I sighed.
“Daring.” He spoke with finality.
I awaited dismissal.
Suddenly his generous mouth spread in a huge smile, his brown eyes glowed. “God bless, Bailey Ruth. You saved Kathleen and dear Bayroo. When you thought of me, knew you needed help, why, I was able to come in time. If it had not been for you . . . However”—he 289
Ca ro ly n H a rt
stood and waved an admonishing finger, though kindly—“I feel that your status as a probationer must continue.” Continue?
“Before another mission can be considered, I suggest you spend time in contemplation of the Precepts, especially Precept One.” His thick brows drew down. “And Three.” A head shake. “And Four.
And Six. My goodness, that’s a shocking number of Precepts you haven’t mastered. However, if you study hard”—he looked at me doubtfully—“perhaps next time—”
My heart raced. Next time. Oh, dear Heaven, there might be a next time. I might still be on probation, but the door had not been closed.
“—events will proceed in a more orderly manner.”
“I’ll learn the Precepts by heart. Of course,” I was quick to reassure him, “I already know them. It was simply that things happened.
Everything will go much better next time. Oh, Wiggins.” I jumped up and gave him a hug.
Next time . . .
290
About the Author
An accomplished master of mystery, Carolyn Hart is the author of more than forty books, including eighteen Death on Demand novels. Her books have won multiple Agatha, Anthony, and Macavity Awards. She is also the creator of the highly praised Henrie O series. One of the founders of Sisters in Crime, Hart lives in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.
www.carolynhart.com
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A l s o b y C a r o l y n H a r t
DEATH ON DEMAND
Death on Demand
Design for Murder
Something Wicked
Honeymoon with Murder
A Little Class on Murder
Deadly Valentine
The Christie Caper
Southern Ghost
Mint Julep Murder
Yankee Doodle Dead
White Elephant Dead
Sugarplum Dead
April Fool Dead
Engaged to Die
Murder Walks the Plank
Death of the Party
Dead Days of Summer
Death Walked In
HENRIE O
Dead Man’s Island
Scandal in Fair Haven
Death in Lovers’ Lane
Death in Paradise
Death on the River Walk
Resort to Murder
Set Sail for Murder
Credits
Designed by Renato Stanisic
Jacket design by Barbara Levine
Jacket photograph by Kamil Vofnar/Getty Images
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
GHOST AT WORK. Copyright © 2008 by Carolyn Hart. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Adobe Acrobat eBook Reader September 2008
ISBN 978-0-06-177219-1
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