Bubba's Ghost

by Marja McGraw

  “You’re goin’ in, huh?” I tried to help unstick the zipper. It finally moved smoothly.

  “Yes, I am. Soon.”

  “And you still think you’re going to get Bubba to go up with you?” I was feeling a little cocky, knowing he’d never make that dog stay in the attic with him, so I was surprised when Stanley walked over to the stairs and whistled for Bubba to follow – and the dog did!

  “Okay, you got him to the stairs, but he’ll never go up with you.” I was watching Bubba sniff the air.

  Stanley started climbing the steps and Bubba followed.

  “He didn’t smell anything this time. That’s all,” I said with confidence. “He won’t go any farther than the door.”

  Stanley smiled down at me, indulgently, and gave another soft whistle. Bubba followed him.

  I sprinted over to the stairs and followed the two alpha males up the stairs. I wanted to be there when Bubba sat down outside the attic door and wouldn’t go any farther.

  Stanley stopped on the second floor, went to each of the three bedroom doors and opened them, inviting Bubba to check them out by saying sniff. Which the dog did! He made a stop at the bathroom and did the same thing. “Sniff,” he said. I watched, trying to figure out what Stanley was up to.

  He returned to the stairs and started up, Bubba on his heels, with me bringing up the rear. He opened the attic door and said, “Sniff.” Bubba obliged him, sticking his head in and sniffing. The dog sat down outside the door and looked at Stanley, wondering what the man would want him to do next.

  What the man did was to enter the attic. “Come on,” he said. Bubba didn’t budge.

  “Ha! Told you he wouldn’t go in there.” Did I know my dog or what?

  “Bubba, come here. You’re with me, and it’s safe in here.”

  I about choked when Bubba stood up and walked through the door and into the attic. He began methodically sniffing each and every box.

  “Hey, now, wait a minute. I could never get him to go in there.” That poor excuse for a dog never would help me out when I was in the attic.

  “You have to know how to handle dogs.” Stanley seemed so sure of himself, and I wasn’t used to him sounding that way.

  The day had been too full of surprises, both good and bad. “I’m going downstairs. If you two need anything, holler. I might come running.” With that I turned on my heel and stomped down the stairs where I turned on the television.

  “Huh! Maybe Stanley should take Bubba home with him. At least he listens to Stan. Huh! Dumb dog.”

  I checked the TV listings and found one of my favorite old Red Skelton movies, Whistling in the Dark, and turned it on, but I fell asleep on the couch before it was half over. A knock at the door woke me. I glanced at my watch and saw it was after midnight.

  “Who’s there?” I called out. I needed to install a peephole in the door.

  “Pete.”

  I fumbled with the lock and tore the door open, throwing myself into his arms. “I’m so glad to see you. I wasn’t sure if you’d really come tonight or not. I heard something on the radio about flights being delayed around the country.”

  “I decided to drive by and saw Stan’s car out front. And your lights are on. What’s going on around here?” I hadn’t let go of him, so he kept right on holding me.

  “Oh, Pete, it’s been a horrible day. I’m so glad you’re home.”

  “Where’s Stan?” He looked past me, no doubt trying to figure out why I was being so clingy and wondering where Stanley was.

  “He’s up in the attic, trying to catch the ghost.” It sounded silly, but it was the truth. “I’ve got so much to tell you, Pete. Come sit on the couch with me.”

  He did after I finally let loose of him. After a welcoming kiss from me and another hug from him, I began to tell him everything that happened. Pete listened without interrupting. When I got to the part about Becky’s attack, I cried. He let me. Normally, he would have asked what there was to cry about and try to tease me out of it. Not this time. I finished the story and looked into his eyes. He stroked my scratched cheek softly, barely touching the injury.

  His eyes took in every surface of my face before he picked up my hand and held it. “I guess you did have quite a day. I’m proud of you, sweetie. You knew something wasn’t right, and you stuck with it.” He didn’t mention that I almost got myself killed, and I was glad of that.

  “And now Stan is upstairs, trying to catch the ghost? Did I hear that right? You know there’s no such thing as a ghost, right?”

  “I know, Pete. But it’s something Stanley feels he has to do. He needs to prove he’s worthy of working for us. Oh, by the way, I’ve hired him full-time, like we talked about.”

  “Good. I like Stan.” Pete glanced around the room without asking me if we could afford to hire Stanley. “And where’s that mangy mutt of yours?”

  “In the attic with Stanley.”

  “I thought you said the dog wouldn’t go up there.” I’d told Pete about Bubba’s aversion to the attic, but things had changed.

  “Stanley seems to have a way with animals. He sort of talked Bubba into going up with him. And it sure surprised the heck out of me.”

  That’s when we heard Stanley scream, and yes, he screamed like a girl. Bubba was urfing for all he was worth as he came flying down the stairs, heading for the back door.

  We jumped up from the couch and ran up the stairs, Pete taking them two at a time. My legs still weren’t long enough for that.

  “Stan,” Pete yelled.

  We were close to the attic door when we heard Stanley laughing. It was nervous laughter, but not hysterical. Pete and I looked at each other and hurried forward, both trying to enter the room at the same time.

  We found Stanley sitting on the floor, tears of laughter streaming down his face.

  I kneeled down in front of the little man and put my hands on his shoulders. “Stanley, for crying out loud! You scared us half to death. What happened?”

  He pointed at the window and laughed harder, unable to speak.

  Pete walked over to the window and looked out. “Ahhh, I see what’s going on.” He began pulling something inside. It was filmy and ethereal in appearance. “Here’s your ghost, Sandi. Or at least part of it.”

  I walked over and found Pete pulling an old, full lace slip inside the window. “Okay, I guess you’ve found my ghost. But that still doesn’t tell us what’s been going on.”

  Stanley had calmed down and spoke to us. “It was a squirrel. I don’t know if they build nests or what, but she seemed to like that slip. She went right to a box of clothing and began pulling it out, but Bubba woofed and scared her off before deserting me. The slip was stuck to one of her claws.”

  I glanced inside the box and saw several old undergarments. Apparently there’d been more than one slip, since I’d already seen one fly out the window.

  “You saw the squirrel climb in the window? Then why did you scream?” I still didn’t see the full picture.

  “No, I didn’t see it coming in the window, but I did see it going out. And it was huge. Here’s where all your noises have been coming from.” Stanley pulled some boxes away from the wall; they hadn’t been pushed all the way back. They were boxes I hadn’t had time to go through yet, apparently including the one with the undergarments. He moved away, and Pete and I peered behind the boxes.

  “I screamed because I started to fall asleep, and when Bubba barked I woke up to see two beady little eyes staring at me from across the room.”

  “Huh.” Pete leaned over to examine a hole in the wall. “By the way, you’ve got to do something about that scream, pal.”

  Stanley grinned from ear to ear. “Okay.”

  “But what about the baby crying?” I still didn’t quite get it. Squirrels didn’t make the same noise as cats, as far as I knew.

  “You’ve had a double whammy – cats and the squirrel.” Pete was smiling. “Apparently your walls make a great hiding place. I have a feeling th
e cats were probably on the roof, near the other end of this opening. I don’t think cats and squirrels probably mix too well. And it seems your dumb dog is afraid of squirrels.”

  “I found cat hair in here, and Miss Kitty visited more than once.”

  “Miss Kitty? I thought she owned a saloon in the old Gunsmoke show.” Pete had no idea what I was talking about.

  “Not that Miss Kitty. You remember, Dolly has a cat she calls Miss Kitty.”

  “Too cute.” Pete rolled his eyes and shook his head, not remembering Dolly’s cat. “So maybe they came in shifts, avoiding each other. I have no idea. But what I do know is that you have no ghosts. You have critters. And if I were you, I’d close this off at both ends right away.”

  “I will. And you can help me in the morning.”

  “Welcome home, Pete.” Stanley shook Pete’s hand. “I hear you got a confession from the hoodlum we ran off the road.”

  “We didn’t run him off the road, Stan. He slid.”

  “Well, yes, but I like thinking we caused him to come to an abrupt halt.” Good ol’ Stan.

  “Okay, the mysteries have been solved. Why don’t we all call it a night?” Pete was yawning.

  I saw a movement and turned toward the door. Bubba’s nose twitched before he came slinking back in and stood beside me.

  “It’s late. Why don’t you spend the night here?” I saw Pete’s eyes light up, but I meant both of them. “Stan, you take the spare bedroom, and Pete, you take the other one.” I gave him a pointed look.

  “Bubba will sleep in my room tonight.”

  Pete glanced at Stanley, turned his gaze on Bubba and shrugged his shoulders. “There’s always tomorrow night. Stan, you won’t be staying here tomorrow night, right?”

  “No.” Stanley turned a bright shade of red before turning his attention back to the hole in the wall.

  Pete chuckled and slapped him on the back.

  Bubba wagged his tail and grinned, having no idea what was going on.

  Epilogue

  A few months passed, and life was good. Pete and Bubba were adjusting to each other. My decision to hire Stanley full-time turned out to be a good one. Bubba had booster shots, I got him a license, and I had a fence installed. However, I never closed the gate. Bubba loved to roam the neighborhood, and the little old ladies always had treats ready for him.

  How could I, in good conscience, bring that to a screeching halt?

  Chrissy had moved out of the old house, telling her landlord she’d decided not to buy it. Her landlord had been made an offer he couldn’t refuse by a contractor who wanted to build condos, so he wouldn’t have sold Chrissy the house anyway. It turned out the deal was already in escrow at the time of Frendd’s death. The contractor bought up all the surrounding lots and tore down the old houses. He was anxious and began excavating right away.

  Chrissy and Tammi moved into a newer, bright and airy apartment, with plenty of neighbors.

  Chrissy also told Ned the Nerd to hit the road. She decided if she ever had another man in her life, it was going to be someone who cared enough to protect her.

  I had a call from Detective Chase, who informed me that Paley told his stepfather about John Frendd’s death. Mike Frendd had a heart attack that same night and died without ever batting an eyelash over his son’s demise. It didn’t surprise me. And Becky was still in the hospital, receiving the treatment she should have had years ago. The District Attorney was moving forward with the case.

  Pete and I were eating breakfast together one morning, as we did from time to time, and he ran across an article in the newspaper that he thought I might be interested in.

  “Sandi, I think you may want to read this.”

  He was right.

  When the old houses on Barranca Avenue were torn down to make room for the condos, the construction crew dug up a grave. It was determined from items buried with the body that the woman in the grave was probably Jennifer Frendd, John Frendd’s mother. Her skull was crushed. Cause of death officially listed as blunt force trauma. Identification to be verified.

  About the Author

  Marja McGraw is originally from Southern California, where she worked in both criminal and civil law enforcement for several years.

  Relocating to Northern Nevada, she worked for the Nevada Department of Transportation. Marja also lived in Oregon where she worked for the Jackson County Sheriff’s Office and owned her own business, a Tea Room/Antique store. After a brief stop in Wasilla, Alaska, she returned to Nevada. She’s also worked for a library and a city building department.

  Marja wrote a weekly column for a small newspaper in No. Nevada and she was the editor for the Sisters in Crime Internet Newsletter for a year and a half. She’s appeared on television in Nevada, and she’s also been a guest on various radio and Internet radio shows.

  She writes the Sandi Webster Mysteries and the Bogey Man Mysteries, and says that each of her mysteries contains “a little humor, a little romance and A Little Murder!”

  She currently resides in Arizona with her husband, where life is good.

  Website : http://www.marjamcgraw.com/

  Blog: http://blog.marjamcgraw.com/