by Ann Charles
“What am I doin’ here again?” Harvey asked out of the side of his mouth.
“Protecting me from Prudence.”
“I mean what was that tale you were gonna tell these two?”
“You are here with me because we’re going house hunting after we leave.”
“Gotcha.” He glanced my way. “You might wanna dial that ghoulish grin of yers down a few notches before you scare the birds away.”
“Zip it, old man.” I left the porch and met Zeke and Zelda halfway up the walk, welcoming them with a hug. “Congratulations, you two. Your new house is all ready for you.”
At least I hoped it was. I’d been too scaredy-cat to go inside and inspect the haunted house by myself after the housekeeping service had called to tell me they were done. Instead, I’d paid extra to have them place a few flower-filled vases around and make sure the place looked inviting for the new owners.
Another frigid blast of wind urged us up onto the porch where Harvey stood waiting, his grin wide enough to show off his two gold teeth.
“Zeke and Zelda, this is my client, Willis Harvey. I hope you don’t mind that he tagged along. We’re heading out to shop some potential homes as soon as we leave.”
“Not at all,” Zelda said, shaking Harvey’s hand after her husband. “Brrrr, your hands are cold, Mr. Harvey. How long have you two been standing out here?”
“A few minutes,” I told her, unlocking the front door. “We wanted to let you two be the first to step inside your new home.”
Not to mention that the less time I spent within the walls of the Carhart house the less I needed adult diapers to cope with its overactive ghost.
I followed Zelda and Zeke through the door, soaking up the warmth inside the narrow foyer. The place smelled like vanilla, the same as always. Prudence must be partial to that scent.
“It’s just as amazing as I remembered.” Zelda trailed her hand lovingly along the silk wallpaper and then touched her fingertip to one of the Tiffany style stained-glass wall sconces. She caught her husband’s hand and towed him into the kitchen. “Oh!” she cried out in happiness. “Look at the bouquet of lilies, poms, and magnolia tips. How perfect!”
The sound of the door closing behind me gave me a start.
Harvey patted my back. “Yer actin’ like a hen in a coyote den.”
“I can’t help it,” I whispered. “This place messes with my head.” Prudence always had a way of sneaking up on me even when I was ready for her.
“It sure is a purty home. You’d never know all of the murderin’ that’s gone on in here.”
“Let’s just hope that its gory history stays in the past.”
The Brittons joined us again and then wandered into the sitting room, admiring its birch floor covered with cream-colored shag rugs. Wanda Carhart had sold the house to them as is, including the burgundy leather furnishings, which was nice for the new owners. However, I would have preferred a total remodel to erase my own bloody memories of the place.
After more coos of happiness, the Brittons headed for the wide stairwell. I motioned for Harvey to stay put and then followed them up the stairs, wanting to make sure Prudence hadn’t carved any words into the walls or played any other pranks to get my attention.
We traversed the house, Zeke and Zelda all smiles and glad-eyes while I cringed and winced at every turn, anticipating Prudence turning Zelda into her personal ventriloquist dummy. I breathed a sigh of relief when we returned to Harvey, who was still waiting in the foyer.
At his raised bushy eyebrows, I shook my head.
“Well, you two,” I said to Zeke and Zelda, “if you’re happy with the place and ready to enjoy it on your own, Mr. Harvey and I will take our leave.”
“I hope you’ll come back soon.” Zelda hugged me for about the tenth time since we’d entered the house. “You’ve been such a joy to work with. I’m so glad we chose you to be our Realtor.”
My cheeks warmed at her compliment. “It’s been my pleasure.”
“There’s just one more thing.” Zelda looked around. “Where’s my purse?”
“You left it in the kitchen, baby,” Zeke said.
Zelda zipped into the kitchen and back again. “We want you to have this.” She handed me a jewelry box.
“You two didn’t need to get me anything,” I said, frowning down at the box.
“Open it,” Zelda urged.
Inside was a leather necklace with a white, arrowhead shaped trinket surrounded by beads. I lifted it out of the box.
“It’s an alligator tooth,” Zelda explained. “Some cultures believe alligator teeth bring good luck while gambling. Since you live in Deadwood, I thought of you when I saw it.”
Considering that I’d been gambling with my life more often than not lately, I was happy to have any good luck charms that came along. “Thank you both. It’s very sweet of you.”
“Here, let me help you put it on.” Zelda took the necklace from me and slipped it over my head. “There, now you’re ready to go out and win.”
I’d settle for going out and not dying.
“We’d like to have you come over for a thank-you dinner sometime, too, if you don’t mind.”
Dinner with Prudence the ghost? I didn’t know how I’d be able to keep from hiding under the table the whole time. “Sure,” I said, trying to mean it. “Give me a call and we’ll pick a date.”
“Deal.” Zelda followed us to the door while Zeke disappeared into the kitchen. “And please don’t be a stranger. I feel like you and I are two old souls who have been waiting to meet up again.”
I stared at her with my breath held, wondering if that was Prudence talking or Zelda. Usually Prudence’s melodic mid-Eastern Atlantic accent took over when she played puppet master, but maybe Zelda would be different. After all, I was pretty sure that she was the “librarian” Prudence had demanded I bring to the house on several of my past visits.
Harvey elbowed me in the spine, nudging a reply of, “Yes, old souls, definitely,” out of me.
I fingered the alligator tooth hanging from my neck. If Zelda and I were going to continue spending time together, I was going to insist it be outside of this house more often than not. Otherwise, she was going to quickly figure out what a nut case I was and hide when I came knocking.
Zelda opened the door for us. “Who’s that?” she asked, looking at me. A frown clouded her usually sunny demeanor.
Harvey and I shared a wide-eyed look.
“Where?” I asked, afraid to move in case Prudence was standing behind me.
She pointed out the door. “Sitting in your Honda.”
What? Sure enough, someone was sitting in the passenger seat. I could have sworn Harvey and I had come alone.
I stepped out onto the porch, trying to see who it was. “Harvey, did you leave your door unlocked?”
“Of course. This is Lead, not Los Angeles.”
True. Come to think of it, I had, too.
“It looks like a woman.” Zelda joined us on the porch, shivering in the cold breeze.
Who in the hell was in my vehicle?
“We’ll be on our way now,” I told Zelda, taking Harvey’s arm and dragging him down the steps with me. “Call me,” I hollered over my shoulder.
Zelda disappeared back inside, closing the door behind her.
Halfway to the SUV, Harvey tugged free of my grip. “You tryin’ to pull my arm off, girlie?”
We drew close enough to get a good eyeful of our visitor through the windshield and stopped.
“She looks familiar,” I whispered. Something about her high collared shirt—or was it a dress—jogged my memory.
“What’s that dark stuff on her neck?”
“It looks like …” The rest of my words trickled out in a wheeze. I gulped. “It’s Prudence.”
I’d seen her picture once in an historical book Doc had shown me. She’d been married to a local doctor. His position in town had given her clout in Lead’s historical records. News about
the horrifying murder of her family had made its way into the book as well.
“I thought the ol’ gal never left the house,” Harvey said.
“Me, too.” This was a first. Usually I was safe outside of the walls of the Carhart house. The chills that now peppered my body had nothing to do with the wind.
“We might as well see what she wants.”
“You go. You’re my bodyguard.”
“My job is to guard you from the livin’.” Harvey pointed at Prudence. “That one there is long dead.”
A stronger blast of cold air rocked us. This time my goosebumps were from the wind. If we kept standing out here, we’d turn into popsicles.
“Fine, I’ll go.” I took a step forward, then glanced back. “But you stick to my heels.”
“Deal.” He locked onto my shoulder instead and we crept up to the driver’s side window together.
Prudence stared straight ahead out the windshield, seemingly oblivious to our noses pressed against the glass. Her regal profile appeared blurry around the edges, her creamy complexion softened, almost glowing, as if there were a filter between us.
“Now what?” Harvey asked.
How in the world had Prudence made herself visible to Harvey and me … and Zelda? Or was it Zelda’s presence who’d given Prudence the extra boost she needed for this feat?
“I don’t know. I’m new at actually seeing ghosts.” My specialty was more along the lines of running the other way when I was told they were sharing the room with me.
“You’re an executioner.”
“Exactly. I deal with living beings, and usually not of the human variety. Doc’s the one who dallies with the dead.” That was one of his specialties, along with a handful of other sixth sense abilities. I was still learning how many tricks of the trade he had up his sleeve.
“Well, yer stud’s not here at the moment, so we need to improvise.”
“Okay. How about you make the first move?”
“How about you knock on the glass.” He grabbed my hand and lifted it toward the window.
I yanked it back. “You knock first.”
“No way. She’s your kin.”
“We are not …” I looked in the window. Prudence stared straight at me. My breath caught. “She’s looking at me,” I whispered.
“Are her eyeballs supposed to be all white like that?”
“How in the hell am I supposed to know, Harvey? This is the first time we’ve actually met face-to-face.”
As we stared through the window, Prudence raised her hand and gave me a come hither gesture with her index finger.
My blood froze.
Harvey pointed at his own chest. “You want me?” he called through the glass.
She shook her head slowly and pointed at me.
“Winner winner chicken dinner.” He smirked at me. “Yer lucky alligator tooth necklace is striking gold for ya already.”
I shot Harvey a worried look. “What am I supposed to do?”
“I’d start with gettin’ inside the vehicle.”
“I don’t want to be in there with her.”
“Yeah, well I don’t want to keep standin’ out here in the wind. My nuggets are frozen. Another stiff breeze like that last one and they’ll break right off. How about I climb in the back seat so yer not alone.”
I nodded, reaching for the door handle. Seconds later, we were all three inside, snug as bugs in a rug.
I sniffed, noticing the faint scent of roses. Her perfume? Or was this the olfactory indication Doc often noticed when ghosts came around?
The back of my seat jerked like it had been kicked. Harvey cleared his throat.
I glared back at him.
“Say something,” he spoke out of the side of his mouth.
Wasn’t he just loaded with advice? Move over, Dear Abby. I’d bet he’d be a little more shy if he were the one face-to-face with a ghost whose eyes looked like white gumballs.
“Hello, Prudence.” My voice started out rusty. “Is there something you want from me?”
“Wanda needs you,” she said, only her lips didn’t move. Instead, her voice had come from the back seat sounding more garbled and scratchy than usual.
I shot a surprised look at Harvey.
One of his hands was covering his mouth. His eyes were as wide as silver dollars.
“Did that come from you?” I asked.
He nodded so hard his earlobes wobbled.
Frowning at this new take on Prudence’s usual ventriloquist act, I focused back on my ghost passenger. “Why does Wanda Carhart need me?”
“A cloaked stranger visited the house last night.” Prudence’s voice was muffled thanks to Harvey’s hands covering his lips. “A hunter searching for a treasure believed to be in Wanda’s possession.”
Wanda’s treasure? Did Prudence mean the money willed to Wanda from her aunt? Had someone intended to rob her but showed up one house sale too late?
Tucking my cold hands into my armpits, I tried to stop trembling. Prudence’s phantom-like presence a mere arm’s reach away from me was as unsettling as the idea of someone sneaking around the Carhart house in the dark.
I glanced at Harvey again. Both of his hands now blocked his mouth from view, reminding me of the speak-no-evil monkey.
“Who came to the house?” I asked, not sure if I should look at Prudence or Harvey when I spoke.
Harvey won my attention. He was a lot less creepy looking than a dead woman with a bloody throat.
“An assassin.” I watched as Harvey fought to control the muscles of his face and lost as Prudence continued to use his mouth and vocal chords. “Wanda must return the missing pearl.”
“A pearl?” From a pearl necklace her aunt had left her? Was that the treasure? Or was Prudence once again being metaphorical?
“The assassin made no sound,” the ghost continued, ignoring my question. “But its foul stench spoke the truth.”
What truth? I sighed in frustration. “Prudence, stop being so damned cryptic. What did the assassin look like?”
Harvey gave up fighting her and lowered his hands. He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, looking up at the ceiling as she spoke through him. “One of the Others.”
At the word Others, my stomach fluttered.
“YOU MUST GO TO WANDA NOW!” The sudden intensity in her voice made Harvey flinch in surprise.
I let out a surprised squeak.
When I turned back to the dead woman in my passenger seat my limbs tingled with adrenaline. “I need more information, Prudence.”
The ghost leaned toward me, so close that I could see the air swirling on her pale cheeks, blurring all fine lines. She looked so real, yet vapory at the same time. For a split-second I thought I smelled the metallic scent of blood on her dress. Fighting the urge to recoil, I held her white-eyed stare.
“Scharfrichter.” Harvey spoke the German name for executioner from the back seat.
The ghost in my face reached her finger toward my chest. I held still. My heartbeat revved as she came nearer. Would I be able to feel her touch?
Her finger hesitated over my sternum. “Your job is to protect. Not question.”
“How can I protect when I don’t understand?”
I looked down, watching my chest rise and fall quickly.
“Do as I say!” She thrust her whole hand inside of me.
Heat seared my lungs in a flash, burning so hot my eyes watered. Her ghostly face lunged toward mine, her mouth gaping wide and dark as it came at me.
I screamed and retreated back.
Then in a blink she was gone, along with her burning touch.
Clutching my chest, I turned to Harvey. “What should I do?”
He made a weird croaking sound, then cleared his throat and tried again. “Change your underwear.” His tone was higher than normal.
“Right.” I clasped my hands together, trying to stop the trembling. “And after that, what should I do about Wanda?”
“Call Coop
.” Harvey worked his jaw a couple of times, as if Prudence had over-tightened the joints.
I hesitated, my heart still running in the red.
Detective Cooper and I had a rocky relationship on our good days. My breaking his nose hadn’t helped, nor had the phone calls I’d made regarding the dead bodies I’d found in his jurisdiction.
This time was different, though. This would be a warning call, no body parts or shriveled up heads to discuss.
I pulled my phone from my coat pocket, almost dropping it with my shaky hands. Pulling up his contact info, I took a calming breath and touched the call button for his cell phone. It went straight to voicemail, so I tried his office number.
“Put him on speaker so I can hear,” Harvey said.
Cooper picked up on the third ring. “I’m busy, Parker,” he snapped. “What do you want?”
What I wanted was to reach through the line and whop him upside the head. Instead, I held my course. “I need you to pay a visit to Wanda Carhart.”
I heard the sound of a chair squeaking, only it was slightly tinny. Our connection must not be the greatest.
“Why’s that?” his voice came through with a hint of an echo.
“I think she might be in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
I could tell he was being purposely obtuse. I snarled down at my phone in frustration. “Like death trouble, Cooper. You want me to come to your office and draw you a freaking picture?”
There were some scuffing sounds and then a bit of static from his end.
“Cooper, did you hear me?”
“We both did,” a voice said that was definitely not Cooper’s.
Son of a bitch!
I knew that voice. It belonged to Detective Stone Hawke, Cooper’s partner in crime-solving. The same detective who suspected I was somehow involved in several of the past deaths I’d stumbled upon. The same jackass who had an ongoing theory that I was a witch and not the pretty Samantha from Bewitched kind.
Before my big mouth said anything else, I hung up on the two detectives.
“Now yer in a pickle.”
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I pounded on the steering wheel with each curse. I was still beating up the wheel when my phone rang.