by Ann Charles
Okay, so my version was a little heavy on the Hollywood drama. “You could still be her boy toy.”
“Your name is already written on the bottom of my foot.”
Ah, hell. When he said stuff like that, I felt like leaping into his arms and licking his whole face. Rather than slobber all over him, I decided to switch subjects to something less heart palpitating.
“Cornelius called me today.” I headed over to the light switches by the front door.
“How is your favorite paranormal investigator enjoying his new digs?”
“Well, that’s sort of why he called.” I shut off all of the overhead fluorescents but one.
“What did he say?”
I didn’t waste Doc’s time with the insanity that had passed between me and Abe Jr. “He wants to talk to you.”
“Me? Why?”
I paused in front of him for emphasis. “According to him, there are dead people talking in his walls, and he needs your help shutting them up.”
Doc searched my face.
“No joke.” I waited for him to start laughing.
Instead he nodded. “Okay.” He started toward the back door.
I caught his arm, stopping him. “What do you mean okay?”
“In the English language, that’s another word for sure.”
“Smartass.” I poked him in the ribs, making him grunt. “You mean you’re willing to go up to Cornelius’s suite and talk about dead people?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He put his hand on my lower back and urged me down the hall. “Let’s just say that after the last two séances with your orangutan pal from the Planet of the Apes, I’m curious what his abilities are in the paranormal realm.”
“I think this is a bad idea.” I glanced into Jerry’s dark office as we passed by, making sure everything was shut off. “Cornelius could expose you in a way that’s detrimental to your business reputation.”
I realized as I got within reach of the back door that Doc’s hand was no longer pushing me along. I looked over my shoulder and skidded to a stop at the sight of him standing opposite Jerry’s office, staring into the dark doorway, his body rigid.
“What’s wrong?” I walked back and peered into the shadows with him. “What is it?”
He sniffed like he used to when we were house hunting together. “There’s something in there.”
I gripped his arm. “Please tell me you’re smelling Jerry’s gym shoes.”
“It reminds me of …” he trailed off and took a step back.
“The stinky, mean ghost?”
Doc had had trouble since the first time he’d walked through the front door months ago with an angry ghost that haunted my office. Most of the time, he went out of his way to avoid it. So, what was with him hanging around to shoot-the-shit with it tonight?
“No, something is different.”
“Different how?”
“With the scent. Hold on.” He grabbed me and pushed me behind him, blocking me. “Here it comes.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressed my cheek against his back, and closed my eyes. His muscles tensed and his breath caught, his heart picking up speed for a ten-count. Then he relaxed again.
“Is it gone?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
I opened my eyes. “Are you okay, Doc? Do you need to sit down?”
“Let’s clear out of here.” He took me by the elbow and practically dragged me down the hall and out the back door. Without saying a word, he waited while I locked up. As soon as my key left the lock, he grabbed my arm and tugged me across the mostly empty parking lot toward the Picklemobile.
I pulled free after we reached the old truck and crossed my arms over my chest. “Dane R. Nyce, you tell me what happened in there right now.”
He glanced back at the door, as if to make sure nothing was following us. “There’s a new presence in your office.”
Splendid. As if one pissed off freaky entity wasn’t enough. “Is it as nasty as the other one?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Why not? Did it pass through you too fast to pick up any details?”
Being that I was a total dud when it came to seeing, hearing, or smelling ghosts, I had only a very sketchy idea how this sixth-sense stuff worked. Usually, the ghost moved through Doc, and he saw a glimpse of how the person had died. Then it went on its merry way and Doc spent a day or two figuring out whom he’d shared a moment with in history.
“No.” He scrubbed his hand down his face. “I picked up a few hints.”
“So what’s the problem then?”
“Violet …”
“Don’t play cryptic medium with me. Just lay it out there and let it wiggle.”
He gripped my shoulder, his eyes shadowed as he stared down at me. “Jane’s back.”
“Jane?” My brain made a loud beeping sound, like it was performing an emergency broadcast system test. I shook my head to clear it. “You mean Jane Grimes, my boss?”
“Yes, that Jane.”
My knees weakened, but Doc held me upright. “What? How? Why would … ?” I licked my lips and breathed in a steadying breath. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
I shivered in the cool evening breeze. “What is Jane doing back?” I whispered, as if her ghost might hear me across the parking lot.
“I don’t know.” He tucked me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. “But from the intensity in Jerry’s office and what I picked up,” he said over my head, “she’s pissed as hell about something.”
Chapter Six
Meanwhile, back in the land of the living …
Later that evening, I sat on the edge of my bed while the kids argued in the bathroom over teeth brushing etiquette.
Jane was back.
That was some mind-numbing, ectoplasmic shit.
I buried my face in my hands, trying to come to terms with what Jane’s return from who-knew-where meant to those of us still breathing oxygen.
Did I tell Mona? Jerry? Ray?
No, definitely not Ray. That would just be more ammunition in the war raging between us.
It was probably a bad idea to mention it to Jerry, too. If he didn’t fire me on the spot for temporary insanity, he’d find a way to use Jane’s presence to boost ratings on that blasted TV show.
That left Mona, who once had told me she believed in ghosts. But would she believe that it was Jane? Would she wonder how I had figured out Jane was paying us a visit? I couldn’t let Doc’s secret out, not even to Mona. It was his business to tell, not mine.
I could tell Harvey about it, though.
Aunt Zoe, too. I hadn’t mentioned it earlier when she’d called home after settling into her room at the conference hotel. She’d sounded tired. For Reid’s sake, I hoped it wasn’t from staying up all night horsing around under the covers with her traveling buddy. I’d been too chicken shit to dig for details about her love life and had kept it to chatter about the kids and work, asking only about the convention and how her pieces had faired on the trip down.
What about Cooper?
Cooper … Hmmm. Doc and I had told our secret about playing patty-cake with other worldly beings to the detective a couple of weeks ago, but Cooper hadn’t said a peep to me about that conversation since he’d walked away that night. How would he react if I told him Jane was back? Would he laugh? Or would he understand what her return could mean in figuring out how and why she’d ended up in the bottom of Homestake Mine’s ?
I needed to let that one sit on the back of my tongue for a while and see if it started tasting bitter.
“I think they’re coming to blows in there,” Doc’s voice interrupted my internal debate.
Feeling numb inside, I lowered my hands to peek at him over the top of my fingertips. The yelling and slamming of drawers had intensified. It was no wonder Doc had heard it downstairs while he cleaned up after supper.
Dear Lord, what must he be thinki
ng, especially after the way Addy and Layne had misbehaved during supper when they hadn’t been giving us the silent treatment. I wouldn’t have been surprised midway through our grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup if Doc had grabbed his keys and disappeared in a puff of exhaust.
He leaned against the door jamb, a dish towel draped over his shoulder. “Are you up to refereeing the rematch of Hulk Hogan versus ‘Macho Man’ Randy Savage going on in there? Or would you like me to give it a shot?”
My hands slid the rest of the way down my face in surprise. He wanted to help? “You’re willing to risk life and limb by entering that room?”
“I’ve faced off with scarier beings.”
“Yeah, but they weren’t rabid.”
That made him chuckle.
I stood, hesitant. I didn’t want him to feel like I was pushing him into a daddy role, but on the other hand I was curious how he would handle this situation.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked.
It felt like we were taking a big step here in our relationship. As much as I wanted to turn it into a full-on leap, I was afraid that he might realize I was wanting it to be a leap and instead stumble back a few feet.
Frickety-frack, this boyfriend-girlfriend crap was tough. Some days, playing cat and mouse with albino-like killers seemed so much simpler.
Doc’s gaze searched mine. “Are we still talking about me breaking up a fight?”
His question told me plenty. I crumpled up the does-he-love-me-enough-to-help-raise-my-hellions daisy I’d been playing with in my head and nodded a little too hard. “Yeah, I just don’t want you to feel like I’m asking you to be something you’re not … well, something that you don’t want to be … I mean, maybe you do want to be it, but not necessarily right now, here, with me … at least not at this very moment … in time.”
He raised one eyebrow, his lips quivering on the edge of a smile. “Are you done tiptoeing through that minefield?”
I grabbed my pillow and threw it at him. “Shut up and go deal with my kids.”
He bowed and then grabbed my pillow and tossed it back at me. “I’d be happy to, my lady.”
Right then Addy let out an ear-clanging scream, sounding like Linda Blair while a priest branded a cross onto her forehead.
Doc glanced down the hall. “I think so, anyway.” Concern creased his face when he looked back at me. “Should I take some holy water with me?”
I nodded. “Grab a priest while you’re at it.”
“Will do.” He pushed off the door frame and disappeared from view.
Meanwhile there I sat, wincing, wondering how fast this was going to go south.
I heard the bathroom door close.
Silence followed.
Twisting my hands together, I waited for my two banshees to start shrieking at Doc. For him to come back and ask me to return the key to his house.
All was still.
What did that mean?
I eased out of my bedroom and stole down the hall. Maybe I should press my ear to the bathroom door to make sure all were still alive inside. Halfway there, the house phone rang downstairs. The extension in Aunt Zoe’s bedroom trilled a split second later. I sped past the bathroom door and detoured into her room.
“Hello?” I flicked on the lamp next to her bed, comforted by the exotic fragrance of her favorite perfume lingering in the room.
“Violet Parker?” said a deep, deep voice I didn’t quite recognize. The guttural way he said my name made goosebumps pop up on my arms.
“Yeah?” My reply was heavy with trepidation. Maybe being Violet Parker right then was a bad idea.
“There’s a viewing Thursday evening for the late Ebenezer Haskell.”
“Another Haskell died?” Sheesh, that family had been prolific in death lately. They needed to start a punch card. After ten stiffs they’d receive a free casket.
“Be at Mudder Brothers for the viewing.”
“Who is this?” Had somebody given my phone number to a local obituary hotline?
“Do not park in the parking lot.”
There was no way this was a legit phone call. “Cornelius, are you messing with me?”
“Dress in disguise.”
This definitely had to be Cornelius. Only he would find it amusing to play Trick-or-Treat at a funeral parlor. “Like with a fake moustache and a clown wig?”
“Make sure to hide your hair and face.”
My hair? Cornelius rarely commented on my hair, except for that time he had confused me with a poodle wearing sunglasses advertised on the side of a bus. Maybe it was Cooper. The detective had some weird fixation with my hair and not in a good way like Wolfgang. Wait, Wolfgang’s obsession with my hair had been pretty twisted, even if he’d told me repeatedly how beautiful it was.
“What do you have against my hair?”
“Do not talk to anyone at the viewing.”
This was beginning to sound a lot more like Cooper by the second, all bossy and emotionally detached. “Can I bring a friend?”
“That would be a bad idea.”
“Even if it’s Natalie?” I tested, figuring I’d get some reaction to her name if it were Cooper.
“You must come alone.”
No hesitation or change in tone. Hmm. “Who is this?”
“You will receive further instructions tomorrow night.”
Maybe it was Detective Hawke. He’d found a new way to get me alone so he could badger me with more silly questions while he clicked his stupid-ass pen.
“Listen, I’m not going to that funeral parlor unless you tell me who you are.”
“Someone who’s concerned about your welfare.”
The voice was deeper than Hawke’s, though. Maybe he was using one of those voice changers. “That sounds like a corny line from a movie. Try again.”
“Someone who fears for your son’s life.”
I almost swallowed my tongue along with his reply. “That isn’t funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
The line went dead.
“Hello?” I tried anyway.
Game over.
Holy crap!
I raced back to my bedroom, phone still in my hand, passing my two kids in the hall on the way. “Get to bed, Addy.”
“I am, Mother,” she said to my back. “And don’t worry; Elvis is all locked up like a prisoner in the basement.”
“Don’t talk back, Adelynn Renee.” I grabbed Layne by the shoulder and stared down at his face, making sure all freckles were still where they belonged. “What happened to your ear?” It had a scab on it, fresh from the looks of it.
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.” I tried to turn him so I could see it better.
He tugged free of my grip. “Quit babying me, Mom.”
Don’t mind me, I thought, watching his stiff shoulders disappear into his bedroom. I was just trying to keep him alive and breathing.
Where was Doc? I checked the bathroom on the way to my bedroom, finding it empty. He probably went back downstairs. I needed to tell him about that phone call, but before I let panic take the reins, I wanted to check on something.
I tossed the house phone on my bed and grabbed my cellphone from the dresser, dialing Cornelius’s number. Amazingly, he answered on the first ring. “I said I wanted a wake-up call at nine-oh-three a.m., not p.m.”
“Cornelius, this is Violet.”
“Violet who?”
“You know which damned Violet.”
“Ah, yes, the one with a temper.”
Detective Hawke must have been whispering in his ear. “Did you just call me?”
“Should I have?”
“Just answer the question,” I bit out.
“Have you taken your pills tonight, Violet?”
“Cornelius, did you call me a moment ago or not?”
“Not.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Did you speak with your tall—”
I h
ung up on him, not in the mood to chit chat about loud, dead neighbors.
I punched up Cooper’s number.
“This better not be about another dead body, Parker.”
It sort of was, being that I’d just been ordered to attend another Haskell funeral, but I didn’t want to get into that with the detective until he’d answered my question.
I heard the low rumble of conversation in the background, along with the clinking of glasses. It sounded like he was at a bar. “Did you just call me?”
He scoffed. “Contrary to what you think, this world does not revolve around you.”
“Whatever. Did you call me or not?”
“Although with that hair of yours, I wouldn’t be surprised if it rivaled the moon in gravitational pull.”
If only I could reach through the phone and hit him upside the head with a beer bottle. “Just answer the fucking question.”
“No.”
“Who is that?” I heard a female ask.
Was that Natalie? It didn’t sound like her voice. It was smokier and more sexpot-ish like Doc’s psycho ex-girlfriend, Tiffany Sugarbell. Tiffany also happened to be a rival agent with a realty company out of Spearfish, and I wouldn’t put it past that bloodthirsty bitch to try to steal Cooper and his house away from me as payback for my winning Doc’s affection.
“A pain in my ass,” Cooper answered whoever it was. “What makes you think I called?” he asked me.
“None of your business.” I hung up on him. Damn, that had felt good!
That left Detective Hawke. I hesitated, my finger hovering over his number still located in the received calls queue from the last time he’d called and harassed me with questions. Screw it, I had to know.
“Hawke speaking,” he answered almost instantly.
“This is Violet Parker. Did you just call me?”
“No, but I’ve been wanting to talk to you about—”
I hung up on him, too. Striding over to my window and back, I chewed on my knuckles. Then I saw the other phone next to my pillow. I grabbed it and hit the automatic callback button. It rang and rang and rang.
“Come on,” I whispered, back to pacing.
“Yeah?” Someone finally answered.
“Who is this?”