The Haunted Heist

by Angie Fox

  Sure enough, Reggie’s right-hand woman stood just outside the privacy booths, arguing with a growing number of police officers.

  The law enforcement presence had exploded while I’d been investigating the bathrooms. Several officers had gathered in the lobby, talking in groups. Ellis didn’t appear to be among them.

  “Dang it,” Frankie and I both muttered.

  “Do you see Suds?” I asked.

  “No,” Frankie groused.

  Frick. “It would be hard to talk to him with all these people around, anyway.”

  The gangster stood next to me, scanning the lobby. “Suds was always good at lying low. If the cops are out here, he isn’t.”

  That settled it. “I’ve got to get out of here,” I whispered, heading for the door.

  It was all too much. Reggie’s death, the questioning, Frankie shoving his powers on me. It had given me a headache.

  Besides that, Frankie’s left foot had begun to fade away. The right one was completely gone. If we kept at this any longer, he’d start losing his shins. Lending me his power cost him energy, and I wanted him to save it for when we could make a real difference.

  We’d come back when the place wasn’t crawling with police and we had a chance to talk to Suds again.

  I was halfway across the lobby when Em exited the area where we’d been questioned, flanked by one of the officers who had originally come in with Duranja.

  She shot me a cold look as we passed, as if she knew where I’d been. I watched as he led her to the seating area in the lobby before I spoke with the officer guarding the glass doors. “Duranja said I could go.”

  “He told me,” he said, letting me pass toward the exit that led to an outside staircase.

  Frankie wasn’t quite so generous. He loomed over me, his chest blocking my way. “Wait a minute. We gotta at least try to find Suds before we leave. I didn’t get to ask about my missing gun.”

  We both had important questions to ask, but they would have to wait.

  The officer at the door raised an eyebrow when I hesitated. I had to keep moving. I walked straight for Frankie, who was still blocking my path. He dodged me at the last second, and I stepped into the crisp afternoon air.

  “Give it a break,” I said as soon as the door closed behind me. “We’ll come back after Suds has had a chance to calm down.” And when police weren’t all over the place. “You’re not going to get anything out of him by chasing him around.”

  He straightened his tie. “I can’t help it. It’s good to see him again.”

  I started up the steps toward street level. “He thinks you’re a ghost.”

  “I am a ghost. So’s he.”

  I sighed as I took the concrete steps one by one. I didn’t know how much more of this I could take. It was more than Suds or the questioning or the death of my almost-client. This had been my big chance. Although after what had happened to poor Reggie, I supposed I needed to be grateful to be alive and well.

  The sky was blue, and the sun shone bright, as if the rest of the world hadn’t quite caught up to this morning’s tragedy.

  I was glad I didn’t have to go back for a coat. And as far as my work samples went, the bank could hold onto them for now. I didn’t see myself going out on many more freelance interviews, not after word of this one got out.

  “Suds looked good, didn’t he?” Frankie mused as he glided next to me.

  “He seemed to have a lot of energy,” I said, looking at the positive. “He sure yelled loud and split quickly.”

  “So when are we going back?” Frankie asked as we reached the top of the stairs.

  “Soon.” Especially if I was the only one who could pursue the Handsome Henry lead. Suds might have seen him as well. “But for now, you should probably disconnect me from the other side.”

  “Brace yourself,” he warned.

  A tingling surge jolted me as Frankie drew his power back. “That never feels good,” I said on a wince.

  “Yeah, I don’t think we’re supposed to be doing it,” Frankie said.

  That fact alone should have made me run far and long. Only I had important work to do, and I didn’t see any other way.

  I needed to learn more about this gangster hit-man theory, and what a ghost could truly do to harm a human. Frankie hadn’t been able to offer me a concrete explanation when he’d brought it up. While the gangster could be enthusiastic with his opinions, he didn’t always bother to check the facts.

  Spectators crowded the small sidewalk that led to the front steps of the bank, where I’d entered so eagerly just a few hours ago. I saw the weekday morning McDonald’s coffee crowd, police scanners in hand, along with two of my grandmother’s old friends from church. And, of course, Ovis Dupre, the retired reporter who ran the Shady Oaks Extended Living Center Gazette.

  “Verity Long,” he called from the bottom step, his face lighting up and his voice raspy from years of cigarettes. He wore a camera around his neck and carried a notebook in his hand. “Were you present for this murder, too?” he asked, reaching for the pencil behind his ear.

  “No, I wasn’t,” I said, hurrying past, telling him the honest truth while at the same time refusing to stick around and elaborate.

  I’d always been taught to respect my elders, and Ovis was as near as you could get to an institution in this town, but he could also ask some tricky questions. I didn’t feel up to his antics right now.

  He started to follow me, but shuddered and dropped back when Frankie gave him a cold spot. I caught the edges of it along my spine, and it was a doozie.

  “Thanks, buddy,” I muttered.

  The gangster glided for my car. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  A dozen more casual observers peppered the parking lot and the town square beyond. My sister, Melody, stood away from the crowd, near the statue of Colonel Larimore, wearing a bright cherry red coat. She had braided her hair into a crown on her head.

  I made a beeline for her, needing a hug like I needed my next breath.

  She didn’t question it, just folded me into her arms.

  “You’re freezing,” she said, hugging me tighter. “You want my coat?”

  “No.” I was wearing enough of her clothes already.

  I let her go, not missing the concern in her eyes. “We lost half our library patrons when the police cars pulled up outside the bank,” she said. “Then I saw your car out front, and you didn’t leave when they cleared the lobby.”

  “I was inside when Reggie was murdered,” I said, not bothering to sugarcoat it. This was Melody.

  She let out a small gasp. “So it’s true? We saw the ambulance, but…”

  I nodded. “Reggie’s dead.” I let her absorb that for a moment. “It gets worse,” I added, drawing closer. I told her about the way we’d found the body and how any one of the people I’d been with could have done it. “Frankie seems convinced it’s the work of a hit man named Handsome Henry. His real name is Henry Hagar. Have you ever heard of him?”

  “No,” she said, glancing back at the library, “but the only research on criminals I’ve done has been for you. This is becoming a bad habit.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said. Across the square, I saw Ovis gathering his courage to approach me again. Where was my spooky ghost when I needed him? “I’ve got to go. When you get back to the library, see what you can find about Handsome Henry and his gang record?”

  The corners of her eyes wrinkled as she stared at me, trying to assess if I was serious or not. “Do you really think a hit man followed Reggie to town?”

  “A most likely dead hit man,” I corrected. “I know it sounds nuts.”

  To her credit, she didn’t immediately agree. “I’ll see what I can do,” Melody said, nodding. “In the meantime…” She glanced over my shoulder at an approaching Ovis.

  “Yeah.” I cut across the square, barely missing Ovis before I slipped into my car and slammed the door. Luckily, there was nobody in the street behind me as
I peeled out and made my getaway.

  “You got some natural talent behind the wheel,” Frankie said, approving from the passenger seat. “If you ever wanted a career in getaway—”

  I clutched the wheel. “I don’t want to hear about it.”

  “Just saying…”

  Chapter 8

  I escaped toward one of the older sections of town. I refused to break the law in the way Frankie preferred, but I would bend one of my personal rules and drop in on the man I most definitely should not be seeing.

  At least not in public.

  “Geez, Verity,” Frankie groused as we turned down Magnolia Street. “First order of business: you don’t seek out the fuzz.”

  “Ellis must not be working today; otherwise we would have run into him at the bank. Trust me. He can help.”

  I’d come to depend on his ear and his support. He was a good man, with a solid moral code and a wicked sense of humor. Two things I couldn’t resist.

  “You want to take a cop with you to hunt down a hit man,” Frankie said, as if it were the most absurd idea in the world.

  “When you put it like that, my idea sounds even better,” I said, as we passed mature trees and a patchwork of modest, sturdy houses that had stood since the early 1900s. Too bad I wasn’t exactly subtle in my avocado-green Cadillac. This was the middle of the day, and the neighbors around here liked to talk.

  Ellis and I couldn’t afford to expose our budding romance to the scrutiny of the town. At least not yet. He was the brother of my ex-fiancé, and the son of the woman who would give her eyeteeth to take me down. We’d developed a sweet spot for each other on my first ghostly adventure, and if he hadn’t been so danged wonderful, I would have let him go. I still might have to.

  Ellis lived in a tidy bungalow with a postage-stamp front lawn. And sure enough, his police cruiser stood vigil in the side drive.

  Relief washed through me as I parked out front and took the steps two at a time. I’d make it quick. This was an emergency.

  I knocked on the door. “Ellis?”

  No one answered. I glanced behind me, to the lace curtains fluttering in the window of the two-story across the street. I squared my shoulders and knocked again, more firmly this time. “Ellis, I need to talk to you.” A sharp wind blasted me, chilling me to my toes. “There was a murder at the bank,” I said, louder and more urgently than before. “Frankie thinks it could have been another gangster, a hit man. The police are there now, and—”

  The door swung open and Virginia Wydell stood on the other side of the threshold.

  She wore her perennially blond hair back in its usual bob, her bony figure draped in a white cashmere sweater set and beige wool trousers. Her thin lips pursed as she took in my presence on her son’s front porch.

  “Why, Verity Long,” she drawled, “death and destruction and you at the center. Imagine that.”

  I schooled my features to hide my shock. “I need to see Ellis.”

  “My son is not your personal officer of the law,” she said, her ring-clad fingers tightening on the door. “He’s not your anything.”

  I curled my toes in my sister’s overtight shoes. “I know he’s home,” I insisted, keeping my tone even. “I see his car.”

  She leaned close and rested a hand on my arm. I smelled her expensive perfume and felt the bite of her fingers as they tightened. “Don’t you think you’ve imposed enough on this family?”

  Why? Because I’d exposed some of her underhanded schemes? Even now she was fighting legal battles on a few fronts because of what I’d uncovered on my last adventure. “If you think you can make me cower, you’re dead wrong.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Listen closely because I’m only going to say this once, dear. You cannot hurt me, but I won’t have you going after my sons. Leave Ellis alone. Now. Or I’ll find out exactly what’s going on with your Frankie and your gangsters and your hit man. And I’ll make your life a living hell.”

  I pulled out of her grip, still feeling the sting of her nails on my skin. “You can’t control me. Or him.”

  She raised a brow. “I suppose not,” she said, before her voice hardened. “But in this case I don’t need to. Do you really think Ellis will want you with him at our next family dinner? At Beau’s big birthday party?” She smiled when I flinched. “Most of your old friends will be there—you haven’t seen them since the rehearsal dinner. The smart ones stood by my son’s side.”

  Social posturing didn’t change the facts. “You know why I refused to marry Beau.”

  “And why you don’t belong with any child of mine,” she stated, as if it were fact. “Let me ask,” she mused, her tone going sweet. “How did the holidays go?”

  Ellis and I had gotten together for an early dinner at a restaurant two towns away. He’d spent the rest of the holiday with his family.

  Even the simple things would be a battle. The special get-togethers that should bring joy would bring me pain. Virginia Wydell would make sure I had no peace so long as I associated with anyone in her family.

  Her expression hardened. “I thought you learned your lesson the first time when I took you for everything you had,” she drawled. “I’ll do it again if you’d like. Just give me an excuse.”

  Her lips twisted into a faint smile as she closed the door.

  I turned and walked away, and I kept going, even when I heard Ellis’s voice as I opened my car door.

  “Verity?” He sounded surprised and harried.

  Ellis wore a flannel work shirt, jeans, and a fine dusting of plaster that would have been endearing if he hadn’t appeared almost as frightened as he was confused at my sudden appearance on his front porch.

  “I have to go,” I said as his mother stepped onto the porch behind him, her arms crossed in front of her. I’d had a bad day and knew better than to stay for round two with Virginia. I’d come to him bruised and battered enough. And I believed her threat. She would enjoy hurting me.

  He started to walk down the rest of his driveway, and I prayed he wouldn’t take it personally when I sped away. In the meantime, I’d try to forget that my sweet boyfriend would rather not let anyone know we were seeing each other.

  “That didn’t go well,” the gangster observed.

  “Stop it, Frankie,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road.

  I’d hurt Ellis just now, but I didn’t know what else to do.

  Virginia was right. I’d never be a part of his family, no matter what happened between us. He’d always have to choose. I couldn’t ask that of him.

  My cell phone rang. The caller ID said it was Ellis.

  I was putting him in an impossible position, and I was doing it to myself as well.

  “You going to get that?” Frankie cringed as the phone kept ringing. The ghost didn’t like electronics.

  “She’s probably standing right next to him,” I said, letting the call go to voice mail. I wasn’t ready to give up, but we definitely needed a new strategy.

  I chewed my lip. Perhaps I should call him back and ask him to help me uncover a ghostly murder suspect. I could put him in harm’s way. Pit him against his family. Tempt Virginia to destroy me. Engage in a hidden relationship that had no possibility of a simple, happy outcome.

  Or I could just let it go. Breathe.

  Ellis would understand me needing a little space from his mother.

  I drove back to Route 9, toward my home and my little skunk, the two things I could count on.

  Frankie eyed me. “I don’t get women,” he said, watching me with a mix of concern and pure bafflement.

  “You don’t have to,” I said, continuing for home.

  I parked behind my house, numb as I headed up the back porch steps. I’d neglected to lock my back door—small-town habits die hard—and I pushed it open to find my kitchen exactly as I’d left it.

  A stack of work samples, the ones I’d culled from my presentation, lingered on my kitchen counter. Lauralee’s donut box stood on the kitchen island. Two rejected l
ipsticks lined up next to it. Yes, I’d tried on all three lipsticks I owned in my preoccupation to look my best. As if it would have made a difference.

  I’d started the morning so excited, and now…

  At least there was one bright spot.

  Lucy the skunk toddled out from her nest of blankets in the parlor, her squat body churning and her tail waving from side to side as she grunted out a greeting.

  She was the most welcome sight in the world. “Did you miss me?” I asked, scooping her up.

  Oh my. She’d been snug as a bug. She smelled like lemon soap and warm fur. I could feel the sleepy heat radiating off her, welcoming me home.

  “She didn’t miss me,” Frankie remarked as Lucy gave a start and buried her face in the crook of my elbow.

  I nestled her tighter. In one tragic day, everything had changed.

  Reggie was gone. Em’s life was forever altered, as well as Lauralee’s. She’d lost her favorite uncle. And even though my experience was nothing like theirs, I’d missed out on a person whom I might have easily called a friend.

  Then there was the issue of Frankie’s feet. Whenever he lent me his juice, he experienced an energy drain. It made parts of him go missing until he recovered. Now both of his feet had disappeared completely. I sighed. Technically he only had himself to blame. He’d been the one who chose to thrust his power onto me in the bathroom.

  We should count ourselves lucky he was only down two feet.

  Frankie passed into the parlor and lingered by the large rubber trash can. He sifted his hands through the dirt inside, his shoulders passing through the huge, leaning rosebush that threatened to topple out.

  Never mind that he couldn’t actually touch any of it.

  “All in all, it wasn’t a bad day,” he mused.

  Of all the… I clutched my skunk close. “A man was killed.”

  “Except for that,” the gangster conceded, poking around underneath the rosebush. “I have to admit, that part’s kinda like old times,” he added wistfully.

  I stepped closer to Frankie and his project, despite Lucy’s attempts to dig a burrow under my arm.

  The sprawling heirloom rosebush had been my favorite before we’d dug it up and stuck it in my kitchen. Now the roots at the top of the bush had become exposed and the plant had lost some of its vigor. We really needed to plant it deeper. “What are you doing in there?”