Whats a Ghoul to Do

by Victoria Laurie

  "Doc, don't say that," I said to him, knowing full well he'd ignore me.

  "Look at the ass on that hunka man!" he quipped. Gilley loved to people watch with Doc from our office window.

  I laughed. It had been a very long time since he'd used that one.

  Doc whistled. "Hey, sailor! Why don't you come to my port?"

  "Great," I mumbled. "I've got a gay sidekick and a gayer bird." '

  "Dr. Delicious goes bye-bye!"

  I looked at my bird curiously. I'd never heard him put that particular combo together before, and intuitively I looked outside. Sure enough, I noticed Steven's car wasn't where he'd parked it the night before. Setting Doc on the back of the chair I went to the other window for a better view of the driveway.

  Our van was there, and next to it was an empty space, followed by a row of other guests' cars. "Weird," I whispered. Turning back to Doc I said, "Do you think we should check it out?"

  Doc gave me a head bob and a whistle.

  "Me too." I got dressed and loaded Doc onto my shoulder, thinking that if I left him alone in the room, he'd continue to make a lot of noise and wake the other guests. We crept out of my room and into the hallway and I made my way to Gilley's room. Pressing my ear against the door, I could faintly hear the sound of soft snores. "Gilley's still asleep," I said to Doc. He gave me another head bob and we moved down the hall.

  I remembered that Steven's bedroom was at the end of the hall next to the bathroom. I walked quietly to his room and hovered just outside, wondering what I'd say if he suddenly opened his door and saw me standing there at five in the morning. Glancing at the bathroom, I decided to go with the obvious. Putting my ear to the door, I listened intently, but no sounds could be heard. Steven was either a quiet sleeper or he wasn't in his room.

  He must have gone somewhere in the middle of the night. He was a doctor, after all—maybe he'd had an emergency. Then again, what if he was in his room, and his car had been stolen? I didn't know the current price of an Aston Martin, but my gut said it was north of anything I could ever afford. Maybe some thief had taken it.

  I stepped back from the door, debating about what to do next. Finally, I figured that if there was a chance my car had been stolen, I'd want to be woken up. I gave the door a small knock. After a few moments of silence, I knocked again. Still nothing. "Okay, so no one's home…" I whispered. "Or he's a heavy sleeper. Maybe I should try the door and see if it's open?"

  Doc reached up with his beak and tugged gently on my ear. "Yeah, I'm with you," I said, reaching for the door handle. My heart pounding at my invasion of his privacy, I turned the knob, and the door clicked open. "Open, sesame," I whispered. I gently eased the door open far enough to take a peek inside. The room was empty.

  I pushed a little farther and stepped into the room, just to make sure. The bed was rumpled, and looked slept in. Steven's duffel wasn't in sight, and neither were any of his personal belongings. "Okay," I said to Doc. "Where do you think he's run off to?"

  "Doc's a pretty boy!" he squawked.

  "Shhhh!" I said, putting a gentle hand on his beak. "Come on, pal. You're gonna get me in trouble." We left the room and headed back down the hallway.

  Making my way downstairs, I heard sounds coming from the kitchen. Curious, I went to investigate and found Helen in her bathrobe humming as she sliced up fruit by the sink. "Morning," I said as I came into the kitchen.

  "Eeek!" she shrieked, dropping the knife and raising a hand to her chest.

  "Sorry!" I said, as I came over to her. "I didn't mean to scare you."

  Helen took deep breaths as she tried to calm herself. After a moment she regained her composure and picked up the knife. "I didn't realize someone was up this early."

  "It's my bird," I said, indicating Doc perched on my shoulder. "He was hungry."

  "Hi, Doc," Helen said, holding up a piece of cantaloupe. Doc whistled.

  "You've got a friend for life," I said as he took the fruit.

  "Can I get you some coffee?" she asked me.

  "I'd love some, thanks." I took a seat in one of the chairs at a small table in the kitchen, and Helen brought me my coffee.

  "I hope you got a better night's sleep last night," she said. "My late husband wasn't keeping you up again, was he?"

  "Arnold? No. He's been quiet ever since I gave you his message."

  Helen nodded and got back to chopping fruit. She put several pieces of cantaloupe in a bowl and set that down in front of me and Doc with a smile. Doc whistled and I fed him a few pieces, enjoying the companionable silence and a good cup of coffee.

  After a moment I asked casually, "Did Steven happen to mention anything about heading back to Boston this morning?"

  "No," she said as she reached for a carton of eggs. "Why, has he left?"

  I nodded. "His car's not in the driveway, and he didn't answer my knock on his bedroom door this morning." I decided it was best to leave out the part about opening said door and taking a looky-loo inside.

  "I wouldn't worry over it, M.J.," she said, cracking an egg on the side of a large bowl. "I'm sure he's fine."

  I nodded. "I think I'll go for a run before breakfast."

  "Sounds good," she said. "I start serving right at six o'clock."

  I took Doc back to my room and put him in his cage. Now that he'd been fed, he was content to look quietly out the window.

  I changed into sweats and headed back downstairs, poking my nose into the kitchen again, where Helen was putting the finishing touches on breakfast, and told her to tell Gilley that I was out for a run in case he woke up and was looking for me.

  "Have a good jog," Helen said. "If Steven comes back, I'll let him know too."

  "Thanks," I said, careful not to let my irritation about his absence show.

  I headed outside into the cool morning light and inhaled deeply. It was the perfect temperature for a run, not too hot and not too cold. I did a few stretches for a warm-up, then sprinted down the pavement.

  I took the main road through town, aptly named Main Street, sticking to familiar territory at first, then got bolder and jogged down a side street that led to a more residential part of town. The houses here were neat and simple. Many of them had white picket fences, and reminded me of back home in Georgia. Some of the residents were up, gathering papers, watering lawns, walking their dogs. Other houses were still and quiet as their owners squeezed in one more hour of sleep.

  After running parallel to Main Street, I cut back up toward it through another side street and ran right past a black Aston Martin parked in someone's driveway. My head whipped back to take a second look as I realized it must be Steven's car. Panting, I trotted back to check it out, and sure enough I saw his little MD tag on the license plate.

  After ogling the car for a few seconds I looked up at the house it was parked in front of, a small one-story ranch with white trim and light blue shutters. The blinds were closed and there was no way to tell if anyone was awake inside.

  I stood next to the car for a few seconds, wondering what Steven could be doing here at six in the morning. Curious about his arrival time, I moved to the hood and felt it. It was cool to the touch. That meant he'd been here for a while, or all night.

  I scowled at that thought and looked back up at the house. Just then the front door opened, and with a start I crouched down behind the car, afraid I'd be seen. With my heart pounding, I duck-walked over to a row of bushes and moved behind them for cover. I could hear two people talking, one female voice light and amused, the other much deeper and accented. Their conversation came to me in little bits and pieces, not enough to put together and tell what they were talking about.

  Taking a huge chance, I peeked up over the bushes, spotting Steven and a young woman talking and laughing as they walked over to his car. The woman was pretty, with long blond hair tied up in a ponytail. She looked familiar, and it took me a second to realize that she was the waitress at the grinder restaurant. Once Steven put his arm around her and gave her a
kiss on the forehead, I didn't bother to hang around and watch the show. Instead, with my stomach in a tangle of knots, I inched back down and waddled along the row of bushes to the backyard. From there I cut through another lawn to the street behind the one I'd been on and started jogging again.

  I ran much farther and harder than I'd planned, trying to work out what it meant that Steven had spent the night with another woman after kissing me so passionately the evening before. I finally came to the conclusion that I'd been right all along—he was a rat bastard and it was in my best interests to keep my distance from him. Once I finished this job, he would become a distant memory.

  An hour and a half later I returned to the B and B. Gilley met me as I came through the door, out of breath and sweaty. "Good Lord, girl," he said when he saw me. "What'd you run, a marathon?"

  "Morning," I said as I waved him off and turned toward the stairs. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the shower."

  I went up to my room, gathered some toiletries and clean clothes, and headed into the hallway. After closing my door I turned and bumped right into a broad chest. "Good morning," Steven said as I backed up.

  "Hey," I said, looking anywhere but at him.

  He reached forward and ran a finger along my wet hairline. "Been out for a run?"

  I snapped my head away. "I need a shower," I said, and moved around him.

  "I'll say." He chuckled.

  I turned back and gave him a frigid look before walking to the bathroom at the end of the hall. "Are you still mad at me?" he asked.

  I didn't answer him. Instead I went into the bathroom and shut the door behind me without looking back. "Jerk," I muttered.

  After taking a steamy hot shower and dressing, I headed downstairs. Gilley was still at the kitchen table, slurping coffee and reading the local paper. "Hey," I said as I got a plate from the buffet Helen had set up.

  "Morning, sunshine," Gilley said. "Sleep well?"

  "Pretty good."

  "Want to tell me why you're in a mood?"

  "Who says I'm in a mood?" I asked, grabbing some toast.

  "You never run like that unless something or someone has pissed you off. I'm guessing it has to do with the fact that a certain someone rolled in here this morning after apparently being out all night?"

  "I hate that you're so freakishly perceptive," I grumbled, sitting down. '

  "It's a gift," Gilley said, setting down the paper while he waited for me to talk.

  "Did you ask where he'd gone?" I asked him, taking a bite of bacon.

  "Steven? No. It's none of my business," Gilley said.

  "I saw him," I admitted. "I was out running and saw his car parked in some driveway. And I may have paused to check it out and caught him and that pretty waitress from the grinder restaurant coming out the door all friendly-like."

  Gilley arched an eyebrow. "Define friendly."

  "They had their arms wrapped around each other."

  "And—I'm just guessing here—but my bet is that you two got a little friendly with each other last night in the restaurant parking lot, too?"

  "How could you know that?" I demanded.

  "I was doing a little flirt-flirt with one of the waiters inside the restaurant after you two left. We talked for a good fifteen minutes, and when I came out you two were just pulling out of the lot. Plus you had that look on your face," he said smugly.

  "What look?"

  "That 'Oh, no! Gilley's going to know what I've been doing' look."

  "Whatever," I said, waving my hand and trying to brush the whole thing off. "It's no big deal. He's a player. I could've told you that when we started this gig."

  "But you like him," Gilley said to me.

  "You like whom?" Steven said from behind me.

  Gilley and I both jumped and then gave a panicked look to each other. Gil saved the day when he said, "Bradley. This guy I just started dating. I introduced him to M J. the other morning and I was getting her opinion about him."

  "Do you know what I think?" Steven said, taking his seat next to me.

  Discreetly I edged my chair a little farther away, while Gilley said, "No, but I'm thinking you're about to tell us."

  "I think you should date whomever you want. Don't wait for someone to give you the okay. If you like this guy, then that's all that matters."

  I rolled my eyes and set my fork and knife down. I'd lost my appetite. "Thank you, Dr. Phil," I said, and got up from the table. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll try to take a little nap before we hit the house later on."

  As I made my way up the stairs, I could hear Steven ask Gilley, "What's her problem?"

  I didn't wait to listen for Gilley's response. Instead I made my way back to my room and plopped down face-first on the bed. "What's up, Doc?" my bird chirped from his perch by the window.

  Turning to look at him, I said, "Men suck."

  Doc whistled and cocked his head. There was a pause as I saw him trying to work out the sound. After a moment he repeated, "Men suck!"

  "Great," I mumbled as I turned my face back into the pillow.

  Chapter 7

  The crashing sound of thunder woke me. That, coupled with Doc's frantic squawking. "Help! I've been shot!" he said as a loud crack echoed across the sky. I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and got up quickly. Doc hated thunderstorms, and I'd forgotten to take him away from the window.

  "Shhhh," I cooed to him, moving his cage across the room. My bedroom was dim, and I could hear the pounding sound of rain against the windowpane. "It's okay, Doc. You'll be okay."

  "I've been shot!" he said, and flapped his wings. He was clearly agitated, since he used that phrase whenever any loud noise scared him.

  "You have not been shot, Doc. Come on now; it's okay. Just a little storm, nothing to be frightened about." Behind me we saw a flash, followed by the sound of a loud rumble, closer than the last one. Doc flapped his wings and turned in a circle on his perch.

  Just then there was a knock on my door. "M.J.?" I heard Gilley call from the hallway.

  "Doc's been shot!" my parrot squawked. "Gilley! Doc needs help!"

  Gilley opened the door and came in. "He upset by the storm?"

  "Yeah. I forgot to take him out of the window before I fell asleep."

  "YMCA!" Doc sang, fluttering his tail when Gilley came over. "Doc's a pretty boy!"

  "I came up to get you from your nap," Gilley said. "It's midafternoon, and the storm started early. I think it's a good time to head over to the lodge."

  "Sure. Let me just get Doc settled and I'll meet you downstairs." After Gilley left the room I stroked and talked softly to my bird until he settled down. When he stopped squawking at every little burst of thunder, I put a cover over his cage, grabbed my duffel bag, and tiptoed out of the room.

  I found Helen back in the kitchen again and asked her if she'd look in on Doc a little later. She happily agreed.

  I met Gil and Steven on the front porch. It was raining something fierce, and the storm showed no signs of subsiding. "Ready?" Steven asked me. I nodded. Gil winked at me and took off down the steps in the direction of the van. I was about to follow him when Steven grabbed my arm. "Why are you giving me this cold elbow?" he asked.

  "Say what?" I said, trying to ease my arm out of his grip.

  He let go of my arm and said, "You're avoiding me. Why?"

  "Ah," I said as I realized what he meant. "The cold shoulder. I've been giving you the cold shoulder."

  "Yes, the cold elbow and the cold shoulder and the cold arm. Why have you been doing this?"

  I stood there for a moment, wondering how to play it. Should I tell him the truth? Or avoid the fact that I'd seen him coming out of that house this morning? I opted for the latter. "I've been focusing on the job, that's all. Like I said, I can't afford to become distracted. You do want me to help your grandfather, don't you?"

  Steven eyed me for a long couple of seconds. He wasn't buying it. I thought he was going to press the point, but instead he nodded and mo
tioned for me to go ahead to the van.

  I raced through the rain and got in with Gilley. "What was that all about?" he asked me.

  "Nothing. Just laying the ground rules again. Come on," I coaxed. "We know the way. Let's go."

  Gilley shook his head as if to say, I'll never understand women, and pulled out of the driveway. For the most part we rode in silence to the house, only commenting here and there about the strength of the storm.

  When we pulled into the long driveway, I could feel my adrenaline pumping the way it always did when I hunted ghosts. It was partly the thrill of the chase, partly the challenge of making contact, and partly the satisfaction of helping a trapped spirit cross over.

  As we got closer to the house, I noticed something odd. Gilley saw it too and asked, "Whose car is that?" before I had a chance.

  "Don't know. But I hope Steven didn't think bringing in reinforcements was a good idea."

  "Reinforcements? What kind of reinforcements would he bring?"

  "Good point," I said, still looking at the car. As we pulled up beside it, we could see there was no one inside. Just then I looked up to see a few lights on inside the Sable house.

  Gil parked next to the car, and we waited for Steven to pull in before getting out and making a dash to the front steps. "Who's here?" I asked, shaking the rain off me.

  "Maria," Steven said.

  "The housekeeper?" I asked.

  Steven nodded, and Gil asked, "What's she doing here?"

  "I'm not knowing," Steven said as he tried the door. It was open and we walked into the front hall. "Maria?" Steven called.

  We waited a few beats and finally heard, "Coming!" from somewhere on the second floor. We watched the stairs until a lovely-looking older woman with black hair and brown eyes appeared at the top of the stairway. She carried a book and a blue mohair afghan in one hand, and with the other she gripped the railing as she made her way down the stairs. "Steven!" she said when she saw him. "Hello! I didn't expect to see you here. How've you been?" she asked as she walked forward with a pronounced limp.