Demons Are a Ghoul's Best Friend (Ghost Hunter Mysteries, No. 2): A Ghost Hunter Mystery

by Victoria Laurie

  “No. Not yet. I just got off the phone with Evie. She called me from the car as Kevin was bringing her home, and she was crying so hard I could barely make sense of what she was saying. When I couldn’t calm her down I asked to speak to Kevin. He’s lost all patience with her,” Karen said with a sigh. “Of course, he never really had that in abundance anyway.”

  I kept my opinion about Karen’s brother to myself, even though I was itching to add a similar sentiment. “What is he going to do about Evie?” I asked, feeling a sense of dread in my stomach.

  “Bah,” she said with an impatient flip of her hand. “My brother is an idiot! He’s convinced that Evie has some sort of psychosis that is causing her to hallucinate, and he’s considering taking her to a psychiatrist.”

  I frowned. I knew how close Karen was to her niece, and I also knew how skeptical her brother was of anything that science couldn’t precisely quantify. He didn’t believe in ghosts, mediums, psychics, or anything spiritual. I’d met him only once, and I’d instantly disliked him. “I’ll help you any way I can,” I said to her. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  “I want to hire you,” she said, reaching inside her purse for her checkbook. “And I want you to hunt down whatever evil demon attacked my niece, and then I want you to send him to hell, if that’s possible.”

  Steven and I glanced at each other. He gave me a slight shrug, as if to say, Why not? “You don’t have to hire me,” I said. “I’ll do it for free.”

  Steven coughed loudly and widened his eyes at me. Karen smiled. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “You need the income, and I need your professional ghostbusting services. I pay you, or it’s no deal.”

  “Okay,” I said, throwing up my hands. “If you say so.”

  Karen removed the cap from her pen, hovering it over her checkbook, and said, “Good, I’m glad you’re being reasonable. How much to retain your services?”

  “It’s a hundred dollars a day, Teek,” I said. Again Steven sputtered a cough. I gave him a warning glare. There was no way I was charging my dear friend full price.

  “Really?” Karen said skeptically. “Because your Web site says it’s two-fifty a day.”

  “Must be a typo,” I replied easily.

  “You must think I’m gullible,” Karen said as her hand scribbled out a number on the check. She tore it off with a flourish and handed it to me as she got up. “That should hold you for a week or so,” she said. “And don’t even think about not cashing it.”

  I looked at the check on my desk. There were far too many zeros there for my comfort level. I opened my mouth to protest, but Karen held up her hand in a stop motion. “I don’t want to hear about it, M.J. This is business.”

  “But Teek—”

  “No,” she said firmly. “It’s settled. I’ll call you in an hour to confirm the time of our departure. The school is in upstate New York, just outside Lake Placid. If we leave tonight we can make it halfway there and stop for the night at this really nice hotel I know along the way. Would you mind sharing a room with me?”

  “Not at all,” I said, then glanced at Steven. “As long as you don’t mind sharing a room with Gilley?”

  “This is not a problem,” he said agreeably.

  Karen gave him a smile. “Perfect. I’ll book two rooms with double beds. If we leave around five we can be there by eleven. I hope traveling that far isn’t going to be a problem?”

  “It’s no problem,” said Steven. “We can break into the new van.”

  “Break in the new van,” I corrected gently.

  “What is this difference?” he asked.

  “If we did it your way, we’d get arrested.” Turning to Karen I said, “We’ll need clearance from the school, Teek.”

  “Leave it to me,” she said confidently.

  “I’ll also need to talk to Evie,” I added.

  “Consider it done. My brother and his wife live about an hour away from the school. And my family has a ski lodge only twenty minutes from there. It’s large enough to accommodate all of us, and we can use it as a home base.”

  “Are you sure Kevin will let me near Evie?” I asked.

  “He will if I have anything to say about it,” said Karen.

  Just then Gilley came back in from his trek to the deli. He was with the delivery guy and laughing and giggling like the girlie man he was. “Oh, it’s really okay, Jay,” he said to the deliveryman. “Sleeping through your alarm happens to everyone.” When he saw Karen standing near my door he said, “Teeko! Great to see you, dahling. And the ladies look extra sumptuous today. I love the sweater,” he added with a hand flourish. “Shows off the mounds something fierce.”

  I cleared my throat loudly, knowing Karen was not in the mood for Gilley’s usual banter. Karen smiled at Gilley anyway. “Hey, Gil. M.J. will catch you up. Talk to you all in an hour,” she said, and she hurried out the door.

  Gil gave me a curious look as the delivery guy stood there, patiently waiting for Gilley to pay him for his bagel and Diet Coke. “Gas up the van, Gil,” I said, standing up. “We’ve got a job!”

  Gilley took his time polishing off his bagel and downing his Diet Coke before heading out to the van to gas it up and load some of our equipment. The great thing about adding Steven to our little business was that he’d helped finance some of the very best ghostbusting equipment available.

  We had two night-vision cameras, two handheld computer thermal-imaging devices, three electrostatic energy detectors, some brand-new state-of-the-art walkie-talkies, video monitors, digital cameras, and laptops, not to mention a shiny new van to put it all in. Hooking up with Dr. Sable and all his money was like being at the top of Gadget Santa’s good list.

  “Are you bringing the bird?” Steven asked me as I hurried around the office with a list, checking off items to take with us.

  I nodded. “Can’t very well leave him in the condo alone,” I muttered. Out of the corner of my eye I caught Steven’s frown. “What?” I asked, looking up from my list.

  “It is nothing,” he said in a way that told me it was definitely something.

  I sighed. Obviously I was going to have to draw it out of him. “Really? Because the look on your face is suggesting otherwise.”

  “It is only that Doc can be a bit of a mood murderer.”

  I hid a smirk. “Mood murderer,” I repeated. “That sounds serious.”

  Steven got up from the chair he’d been sitting in and came over to hover next to me, where he traced my jawline with his finger. “Remember the last time I came over?”

  I smiled at the memory of him in my condo and Doc dive-bombing his head the moment Steven tried to show me some affection. “So he got a little jealous,” I said. “He just needs to get used to you.”

  Steven sighed. “All right,” he said, kissing me lightly before stepping away. “I will go home and pack for the trip. I’ll be back by five.”

  I nodded and got back to my list. While I was finishing up Gilley came in. “It is wet out there!” he exclaimed, shaking off the rain from his coat.

  “Have you heard the weather report?” I asked.

  Gil frowned. “Yes.” He groaned. “Supposed to rain through next Tuesday.”

  “Makes for good ghost hunting,” I said. Ghosties love the rain. The more moist the atmosphere, the easier it is for them to appear.

  “Yeah, well, it also makes for some long, cold nights. It’s June, for cripes’ sake!”

  “It’s the third week of June, Gil,” I said with an eye roll.

  “And this is New England; you know that the only way to predict the weather is to expect the unexpected.”

  “Maybe it won’t be as bad in New York,” Gil said, brightening up.

  I gave him a sad smile. “Sorry, pal. I checked. This storm is supposed to track straight through the way we’re heading. Looks like it’s going to hang out with us for the duration.”

  “We need a vacation,” Gil mused. “M.J., when we’re done with this gig le
t’s book a trip to Cabo San Lucas or something.”

  “I thought we were in a money crunch?”

  Gilley gave me a sideways glance. “I’ve done some creative accounting.”

  That stopped me. “You’ve what?”

  “It’s no big deal,” Gil said, playing with the zipper on his coat.

  “Gil,” I said evenly. “What’s going on?”

  “Well, our friend the good doctor happened to shove a teensy bit of extra money into our petty-cash fund, just in case of emergencies.”

  “How much is this ‘teensy bit’?”

  Gil mumbled something that I didn’t catch.

  “How much?” I asked again, laying my hand on his shoulder.

  “Ten thousand.”

  “What?” I gasped. “Gilley Gillespie, you give that money back!”

  “No,” Gil said stubbornly, walking around to his desk.

  I followed after him and cornered him in his chair. “I am not kidding, Gil! You give every penny of that money back!”

  “What if we invite him along to Cabo?”

  “Oh, you’d like that,” I snapped. “Steven would no doubt feed your petty-cash fund there, too!”

  “What’s the harm, M.J.? The man is rolling in money! He certainly didn’t invest in our little venture for the great earning potential.”

  “You’re taking advantage of his generosity, and I won’t have it.”

  “I am not taking advantage,” Gil insisted. “He thinks of us as a form of entertainment. I’m merely providing him with his source of amusement, and if he wants to pay us generously for that, then that’s his choice.”

  “Great,” I snapped. “Tomorrow you’d better show up in a pair of stilettos and some skimpy leopard-print number, because you’ve just pimped us out, my friend.”

  “Oh, come on, M.J.!” Gil complained. “Don’t think of it like that. Think of it like we now have a patron for our art.”

  “Our art?” I said, giving Gil a look that suggested he’d gone off his rocker.

  “Yes!” Gil insisted, no doubt believing he was onto something. “What we do is rare and exceptional, and it takes a certain level of talent to be able to offer our services. I would call that art.”

  I gave Gil the full eye roll and shook my head. “And I suppose that little dance you do every morning before your deli guy gets here is your idea of performance art, hmm?”

  “If it gets ten grand thrown into the petty-cash fund, we can call it whatever the good doctor wants.”

  “Gil,” I said, giving him a level look.

  “Yeah?”

  “Give the money back.”

  Gilley sighed like he’d just been told he had a terminal disease. “Fiiiine,” he said, and stomped off to continue packing the van.

  Later that afternoon we were on our way. Gil was at the wheel, following closely behind Teeko’s Mercedes. Steven was in the passenger seat next to Gil, and I was in the back, testing our equipment one gadget at a time. “How’s that new thermal imager working out?” Steven asked me.

  “It is the coolest thing ever,” I said, looking at the display while I held up the gadget. The thermal imager showed variances in temperature through color imagery. It could show the shape of people and various objects by how much heat or cold they were giving off. As I held the imager up I could see the outline of Steven and Gilley in various shades of yellow and red, and their clothing in a slightly cooler tone. “I love this thing,” I said, and pointed it out the window. The landscape opened up in shades of cool blue or green, and a hint of warmer yellow, but up ahead I noticed the distinct image of a person just off the road, walking erratically.

  I lowered the device and looked up as we passed by, but there was no one there. Quickly I turned and held up the imager again. Fiddling with the focus I could see the stranger’s outline clearly on the imager, but no person was physically there. “Gilley!” I shouted. “Pull over!”

  Gil pressed hard on the brakes, and we skidded slightly before stopping on the shoulder. One of the walkie-talkies we’d brought with us beeped, and Teeko’s voice asked, “What’s going on?”

  “M.J. just yelled at me to pull over,” Gil said into the walkie-talkie.

  “There’s someone back there,” I said, still holding up the imager to watch the figure teeter around on the opposite shoulder.

  “Who?” Steven asked, squinting at the barren landscape.

  “Look,” I said, holding up the imager so that they could both see.

  “Whoa,” Gil said.

  “Cool,” Steven added.

  Unhooking my seat belt I said, “I’m going back there.”

  “Hold on, M.J.,” Gilley said. “There’s not a lot of traffic. Let me see if I can back up.” And he began to carefully reverse along the shoulder. Unfortunately, that was exactly when a cop came around the bend and spotted us.

  “Crap,” we all said at the same time.

  The walkie-talkie beeped again. “You guys are officially in trouble,” Teeko said, and on cue the patrol car’s lights flicked on and the cop pulled up right behind us.

  “Great, now my insurance is going to go up!” Gil complained as he fished around in his wallet for his driver’s license and insurance card.

  I looked out the window at the shoulder across the highway and opened up my sixth sense. There was a little tugging sensation in my solar plexus, and I knew I’d zeroed in on the ghost wandering anxiously around in circles. “I’ve got to go help him,” I said, feeling that familiar sense of panic that I sometimes get with grounded spirits.

  “M.J.,” Gilley snapped. “You’ll stay right here until we deal with this cop.”

  I handed Gilley the thermal imager. “He’s frantic, Gil,” I said. “Look at how he’s pacing around and around!”

  Gil held up the imager, and that was when I realized I’d done the dumbest thing ever. “Drop your weapon!” the cop shouted from just outside our van as he raised his big silver gun.

  Gilley screamed and dropped the imager. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” he wailed.

  All three of us threw our hands up in the air. “Step out of the car one at a time, and keep your hands where I can see them!” the cop demanded.

  Gilley shrieked again. “He’s going to kill us!” he cried.

  “Just do as he says, Gil,” I said quietly. “We can sort this all out once he realizes we don’t have a weapon.”

  Shaking like a leaf, Gilley slowly opened the van door and stepped out. “I’m next,” said Steven when Gilley was shoved violently up against the side of the van by the cop. “Maybe the officer will find the cash in my back pocket and let us go?”

  “Steven!” I hissed. “Don’t even think about bribing him!”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not how it’s done here!” I hissed again, but went very quiet when the cop stuck his head into our van and pointed the gun right at Steven.

  “You,” he said. “Out.”

  Steven got out and came around the front of the van with his arms in the air. The walkie-talkie pipped again, and I heard Karen say, “I’m calling my lawyer; you three just go along nice and cooperative-like.”

  As if I needed the encouragement. The cop threw Steven up against the van and gave him a one-handed pat-down; then he motioned to me, and I also stepped out. “We don’t have a weapon,” I said as I was whipped around and thrust forward against the van.

  “I saw what I saw,” growled the cop as he felt along my body, lingering slightly across my front.

  I sneered distastefully but managed to keep my voice level when I said, “The device you thought was a weapon was a thermal imager. It’s used in our line of work.”

  “Oh, yeah?” said the cop in a sarcastic tone. “Well, then, please accept my apologies. You all can go on and have a nice day.”

  “Really?” Gilley asked hopefully.

  “No,” said the cop. “Not really.”

  “Excuse me, Officer,” said Steven. “But I believe you may have lef
t something in my back pocket when you were frosting me.”

  “Frosting?” said the cop.

  “He means frisking,” I said, giving Steven a warning look. “And no, you didn’t leave anything in his back pocket. He’s from Argentina. They take care of situations like this a little differently.”

  But the cop had already reached into Steven’s back pocket and was holding a big wad of cash in his hand. There was a moment in which no one spoke, and then the cop reached for his handcuffs and slapped them on Steven. “You’re under arrest, big guy,” he said.

  “Yoo-hoo,” came a feathery female voice. I turned my head and saw Teeko standing near our van, her mohair sweater gently off one shoulder and her hair fluffed up and teased to within an inch of its life.

  The cop cinched the handcuffs tightly around Steven’s hands and stepped back. “This doesn’t concern you, ma’am,” he said. But I noticed his voice wasn’t as barky as when he’d been ordering us around.

  Karen giggled and flipped her hair. “Oh, I know what you must be thinking. But I can assure you, these three aren’t criminals. They’re ghostbusters, and I’ve hired them for the week.”

  The cop seemed to take that in for a minute. “You know them?” he asked, and I could see by the set of his chin that he appeared to be addressing Karen’s boobs.

  Karen giggled again and did something with her shoulders that pushed the ladies out even farther. “Yes, I’m afraid so. I can’t take them anywhere these days without attracting all sorts of attention.”

  Just then I felt a real tug on my solar plexus, and right next to me I felt a presence. “Does anyone here know a Randy Donald, or Donaldson?” I said. The name had bulleted into my head, and I’d spoken before I’d had a chance to think about what I was saying.

  The cop whipped his head around to me. “What did you say?”

  I closed my eyes. Randy was standing right next to me, shouting in my mind to speak his name. “Randy Donaldson,” I said slowly. “He says there’s been an accident, and he’s called for backup. He says you’re late.”

  I opened my eyes and the cop had gone pale. He blinked several times stupidly; then he seemed to look around, noticing for the first time where we were standing. He glanced across the street exactly at the spot where I’d first picked Randy up on the thermal imager.