Soul Food Spirits (Southern Ghost Wranglers Book 1)

by Amy Boyles

  “Oh no,” Ruth said. “Beautiful night like this was made for walking.”

  “I’m not sure you understand,” Kency said. “That wasn’t a question. It was a statement. I need to talk to y’all.”

  I wanted to say something smart and ask if ghost catching was illegal, but one look from Ruth told me otherwise.

  I pulled off my backpack and climbed into the back seat of Kency’s personal vehicle. Hey, at least it said something that she didn’t pick us up in a cruiser.

  When the three of us were piled into the back seat, she pulled away from the curb.

  “One of you could’ve sat up front,” she said. “I don’t bite.”

  “That’s not what I’ve heard,” Alice said. “Remember that nice boy you dated, Robert Smith? Rumor was he went around town telling everyone what a good biter you were.”

  Ruth elbowed Alice. “You should’ve sat up front. I can barely breathe back here.”

  “You should’ve,” Alice snapped. “At least then my bottom would have room.”

  “Let me tell you something, your bottom wouldn’t have room unless we were on a cruise ship.”

  I barked a laugh. Both women glared at me. “What? My butt doesn’t have room either. I’m sitting on the door handle.”

  “Will the three of you please shut up so I can ask y’all a question.”

  We each mumbled yes.

  “How in the blazes did y’all know to be at the funeral home?”

  “Someone called,” I said. “I didn’t catch a name.” I glanced at Ruth.

  “Oh yes, they called the line. I didn’t catch the name, either. But it was just the break we’d been looking for. I don’t know if you realized it or not, Sheriff, but we haven’t actually gone on any ghost hunts since we’ve been in business.”

  “I guess Ghost Wranglers sort of kept you out of business,” Kency said.

  “Oh no,” Alice said. “They weren’t our competition. That was all hocus-pocus and nonsense. Everyone knows that. We weren’t called because no one believed we could do it.”

  Ruth smiled. “We sure showed them, didn’t we?”

  “We did,” Alice chimed.

  “So you’ve got a new member on your team.” Kency glanced at me from her rearview mirror.

  “Who, me? Oh no, I’m just passing through this town. I’m leaving soon. But the ladies asked me to help. You know, because I saw the Teenybopper at Soul Food and Spirits.”

  “So the three of you working together was just a one-shot deal?” Kency said.

  Ruth poked the air. “Right. Blissful has to get on to her real life. That’s not here in Haunted Hollow.”

  Kency pulled into the parking lot where we’d left the Caprice. “Alice, I’m assuming this is your car?”

  “Sure is. Thanks.”

  Before we could open the doors, Kency turned around. She slapped one arm over the bench seat. “So if this was the first time the three of y’all worked together, do you mind telling me why I found all y’alls fingerprints at Xavier Bibb’s house?”

  Oh crap. We never should’ve gotten in the sedan.

  SEVENTEEN

  “Xavier asked the three of us there,” I blurted out. It was always better to think before I came up with a total lie, but there wasn’t time.

  Kency cocked a brow. “He did?”

  “Yep,” Ruth lied seamlessly. “He had some equipment to show us. He invited Blissful because she’d seen that ghost.”

  “And he invited me ’cause I had a bag of Milano cookies,” Alice said. “Oh, and for the technical stuff. But when we arrived, his equipment wasn’t working.”

  “Right. It had gone soft,” I said. I couldn’t help it; they were the first words from my mouth.

  All three women stared at me.

  “I mean, there was an outage. It wasn’t working properly.”

  Kency hid a smile behind her hand. “You can go. But if I have any more questions for the three of you, next time we meet it’ll be in my office.”

  “Sounds like a wonderful plan,” Alice said. “I’ll bring the cookies.”

  “And I’ll make cinnamon rolls.” Ruth smiled like a cat about to pounce on a mouse. “You still like those, don’t you, Kency?”

  Kency blanched. “Yes, I suppose. Now scat. I’ve dealt with enough mischief tonight.”

  When the three of us had piled back into the Caprice, I shot Ruth a questioning glance. “What was the whole cinnamon-roll thing about?”

  She waved me off. “Oh, that? It’s well-known that Kency likes certain things drizzled on her naked body.”

  I cringed. “Oh, jeez. Just don’t. Is that because of the Robert Smith guy?”

  Alice wiggled her brows. “Yep. That man couldn’t keep a secret. It’s always good to have something embarrassing on your sheriff, I always say.”

  Ruth buckled her seat belt. “Keeps ’em honest.”

  “Keeps ’em something,” I mumbled.

  As we cruised toward the inn, I realized there was something I hadn’t said to these women.

  “Thank you.”

  Alice glanced over her shoulder at me. “For what?”

  Oh, so many things. I pressed my hands together and slowly exhaled. “For helping me tonight. For taking the whole ghost thing in stride. I kind of surprised you with that.”

  “You could say that again,” Ruth said. “I didn’t expect a real ghost.”

  “Well now that you’ve caught one, maybe the town will think you’ll be a good hire. But I can’t promise a cardboard box of water balloons will hold the next ghost.” I tapped the container. “Susan, you’re free. Thanks, again.”

  The spirit lifted from the box. She shook out her teased hair. “Y’all wouldn’t believe how cramped it was in there. I’ll see you around, Blissful.”

  She zipped from the car.

  “Is she still here?” Alice said.

  “No, she’s gone. Not that she went far. She haunts the restaurant.”

  Ruth flipped down her sun visor, opened her mirror and eyed me. “So what’ve we learned so far?”

  I zipped up my jacket. “That Truck had ample reason to want Xavier dead. I don’t think Truck would’ve gotten that Hollywood contract if his buddy had lived.”

  “I’m sure you’re right about that,” Ruth said.

  “Not only that, but both Truck and Slick sold Xavier the rights to use their image. Xavier could do whatever he wanted with them—make and sell action figures, posters, you name it—and Truck wouldn’t see one dime. Looks like both men tried to get Xavier to sell the rights back, but their buddy wouldn’t budge. Now with him out of the way, the rights revert back to Truck and Slick.”

  “But now the show’s dead,” Alice said.

  “But not their careers,” I said. “We know that Truck has a deal. What about Slick?”

  “I don’t know,” Alice said. “I haven’t heard anything.”

  “That’s what I need to know next. Do y’all have any idea where Slick will be tomorrow?”

  “How about a funeral?” Ruth said. “They’re burying Xavier.”

  “Is it invitation only?” I said.

  “Far as I know,” Ruth said. “But we might be able to get in if you need to talk to Slick.”

  I tapped my toe. “Let me think about it. I’ll let y’all know in the morning. If Truck tells Slick what we did—went through his stuff, he’ll avoid us like the plague. That’s a problem.”

  “Oh no he won’t,” Ruth said.

  “Why’s that?”

  She pulled in front of the bed-and-breakfast and stopped. “Because I happened to teach sixth grade in Haunted Hollow for twenty years. Every single Christmas I receive a card from Slick’s mother. If there’s something I need from him, you can bet Miss Martha Ann is going to help me however she can.”

  My lips coiled into a smile. “I’ll call or drop by first thing in the morning. Get some rest, ladies. You did great work tonight.”

  As I walked down the sidewalk and up the stairs,
I realized that I’d meant what I said. The ladies had done a wonderful job, and I did appreciate it. For once I’d worked with a group, and I found myself almost liking it.

  I’d worked alone for so long that I thought it was the only way to do business. It wasn’t. Even a team of old women could be relied on to make things work.

  I reached the porch. Soft guitar music filled my ears. It was “Blackbird” by the Beatles. I started to walk toward the sound. The pine boards creaked beneath my feet. I stopped, turned back to the door.

  “I know you’re there, Blissful.”

  I grimaced. I jerked my arm in an aw-shucks gesture, but when I did it, I meant aw-crap.

  Roan had caught me. I slowly walked around to the other side of the porch. When I reached the building’s joint, I leaned one shoulder on the wall.

  “Waiting up for me?”

  Roan sat with his guitar on his knees. He grinned, his face shining. “No. Everyone else is inside. It was either you or a thief. I really didn’t want to have to karate chop a thief, so I laid my bets on you.”

  “You were right.”

  “Is the wall comfortable?”

  “Oh, you know, a Jacuzzi would beat it, but I don’t see a tub of hot water around here. Maybe up in my room, but not outside.”

  “There’s a hot tub on the back porch.”

  Of course there was. Probably where he wooed his women. “Great to know. When I sprain my shoulder, maybe I’ll jump in there.” I realized that my sarcasm actually might be a teensy bit inappropriate. “Look, I know you probably think I’m crazy—”

  “I do. I think it’s the hair.”

  I scoffed. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

  “Nothing. I think it’s great. But I do think you’re crazy because of it.”

  I glared at him and was about to spout off a grocery list of insults when I noticed the twitch in his lips and the way his eyes sparked with life.

  “You’re teasing me.”

  “I am. Do you like it?”

  “No,” I lied. “But listen, what I was going to say is, that ghost did steal my wallet.” I raised my palms. “I know you don’t believe in ghosts, but the kid spirit did. I’ll get it back soon, I promise. Before I leave, I’ll settle up—one way or another.”

  “I know you’re good for it.” His gaze washed over my clothing, and a smile that made me want to fall to my knees graced his face. “Heard there was a ruckus at the funeral home.”

  “A ruckus? Whatever do you mean?” I said chipperly.

  “The kind that involved ghosts and apparently wannabe ghost hunters.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He strummed the strings. A heavenly, almost poetic sound rang out. “You know, before I came back here, before I returned to this place, it was the last thing I wanted to do.”

  “So why’d you do it?”

  “Because I made a promise to my father.”

  My heart stretched. It throbbed against my chest. Okay, he had me. I wanted to go upstairs and crawl into bed, but Roan was talking. As much as admitting it made me want to gouge my eyes out, I needed to hear what he had to say.

  Needed to hear? What a lie.

  I yearned to know more about him. Something sparked in that guy. He was absolutely mesmerizing. Maybe it was his strong man hands. Or maybe it was the fact that he was completely at ease with his masculinity even though he ran a rather feminine business. I don’t know, but that guy was scorching hot and totally captivating.

  Yeah, yeah, I know. I wasn’t going to get involved with him. Even if it killed me.

  It just might.

  I dropped onto a chair. “You made a promise to your father?”

  “Yes, that I would take over the place. Watch and run it as best I could. I’d spent my whole life avoiding it.”

  “I understand that.” I did. For the first half of my life, I avoided talking and interacting with spirits. It was too shameful. Kids made fun of me. It wasn’t fun.

  He laid the guitar on a stand.

  “What would I do while wasting my time in a podunk town?” He slyly grinned at me. “Then I realized this podunk town needed my family.”

  I crossed my leg and wagged my foot up and down. “There’s nothing wrong with being needed. What did you do before this?”

  “I traveled. Started a small company. I was an engineering major. I patented a part in a sheet metal cutter and made some money. I’d lived enough out there that I thought I could move back here.”

  “To a tourist town?” I said, scanning the quiet homes that surrounded the place. “And you don’t even believe in ghosts.”

  “But you do.”

  I leaned forward. What the heck? It didn’t matter what this guy thought of me. I’d be gone soon enough anyway.

  “Yeah, I do believe in them.”

  “Why?”

  My gaze skewered him. “Because I can see them. Talk to them. Ever since I was a little girl. In fact, there’s one behind you right now.”

  There was. Susan had shown up and was making all sorts of googly eyes at the back of his head.

  “Really?” he said in a voice that suggested he didn’t believe at all.

  “Susan, would you please bring me Roan's keys?”

  Said keys lay on the table beside him. A second later Susan scooped them into her hand and dropped them in my palm.

  All Roan saw were keys floating in the air. I tipped my head at her. “Thank you.” To Roan I said, “It’s not witchcraft or telekinesis. It’s a spirit moving physical objects. Like the boy who keeps stealing my wallet, the little tooter.” I smiled uncomfortably. “You know, I don’t like to cuss, so that was the best word I could find to describe him.”

  “Bye, Blissful. Do lots and lots of things I would do.” Susan blew me a kiss and waved goodbye.

  I kinda figured telling Roan would either have him running for the hills, which was pretty much the story of my life, or he would be intrigued. To be honest, I was hoping running might be in the future because then he’d stop talking to me, showing me how to knead bread and stop staring at me with soul-filled dark eyes that made me want to strip with one glance.

  I mean, that way I wouldn’t be tempted to get pregnant by simply looking at the man.

  “So you can talk to them?” he repeated as if tasting the words.

  “Look, I know it’s crazy. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I can…help them. Spirits don’t want to be trapped. They don’t want to be stuck haunting a home or battleground. At least, most of the time. Every once in a while you’ll get that one really ornery spirit who thinks it’s cool to bother people. But what most want is what most of us want—to be left alone. To live freely and peacefully.”

  “But they’re dead,” he said.

  “But they’re dead,” I said quickly.

  “Sooo, what does that mean? How can you help something that’s dead?”

  Here was the tricky part. The part where I got the crazy looks. Oh well, best to start at the beginning.

  I inhaled a breath that made my chest balloon. “I was an orphan. I didn’t know my parents, but my adopted father did. Said he tracked me down because of who my parents were.”

  Roan cocked a brow. “And who were they?”

  “My father was supposedly a priest who specialized in exorcisms.”

  “And your mother?”

  “A nun.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yep, that’s what I say, too.” I raked my fingers through my hair, shaking it out around my shoulders. “I didn’t believe it, not when he first told me. I mean, it sounded so stupid. Or, cliche, I guess. I mean, a priest and a nun fall in love, break the rules of the church and then have me.”

  “I’m sorry they abandoned you.”

  I hitched a shoulder. “I’ve been okay. My father found and raised me.”

  Roan pulled a small cooler between us. He opened the lid. “Beer?”

  “Sure.”

  He popped the top
on two microbrews, handing one off to me. I wiped beads of water on my jeans before taking a long, luxurious pull.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He studied me as he drank. I held his gaze. I was baring my soul here. He could believe it or he couldn’t, but I wasn’t going to act like my story was all a bunch of baloney I was frying up.

  “How’d your father find you?”

  “He found me at a traveling carnival. The sisters had taken us out for a field trip. Some donor had given them money for it. I remember one of the rides, a Ferris wheel, and how dangerous it looked. There was something about it I didn’t like, so I stayed far, far away. It was a good thing, too. I’ll never forget the moment I heard the metal snap. It was horrible. It’s one of those things that never leaves your mind. Sometimes I wake up hearing it, the screech just before one of the arms broke.”

  Roan stared with an intensity that made my skin flush. “The whole thing, the wheel, it fell, collapsed. There wasn’t anyone on it at the time, but the operator was killed. Crushed. His spirit wandered around the grass. He walked across the lawn. I knew he was lost, that he hadn’t realized what had happened.”

  I pressed my hands between my knees. “That’s normal. Spirits don’t know they’re dead. If I’m around, I give them a friendly push, just to make sure they’ve seen the light.”

  I paused to study Roan. “You were right. The night Xavier died, I saw him. If I’d had time, I could’ve gone to his spirit, asked him who killed him.”

  “But I pulled you away,” he said.

  I nodded. “It’s not a big deal. It’s not like I’m some sort of ghost detective or anything. The sheriff will figure out who killed Xavier.” If I don’t first.

  Roan picked up the guitar. He plucked a few strings. “So how’d your dad find you?”

  “He was there at the park. Saw what happened. I spoke to the Ferris wheel operator’s spirit and told him it was okay to move on. ‘The light is safe,’ I told him. And it is. Or at least it’s supposed to be. Boy, wouldn’t it be awful if all these years I was telling folks that, the whole time I was wrong?”

  Roan shrugged. “I’m sure you’re not wrong.”

  “I hope not.” I took another pull of the beer. “The man who became my father heard about me from my biological father, the priest.”