by Nic Saint
He grunted in surprise. It was those three meddling sisters again! They were now crouched down next to his precious vault, fiddling with the knob! And as he stared at the screen, he thought he saw a fourth figure, moving in and out of the vault. But that wasn’t possible! He squinted at the screen, resting his hands on the panel. Something was both in and out of his vault, something that looked like… He rubbed his eyes, then blinked and looked again. For a fraction of a second, he thought he saw… Petunia Hudson!
What the hell?! How was that even possible? Petunia was dead! A wave of panic washed over him. How could Petunia be trying to steal her stuff?
He sat back, then pressed a button on the panel. Moments later, he was in communication with the local police department. After briefly explaining the situation to them, they assured him they’d be at the house in a matter of minutes. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. This changed matters entirely. If Petunia was still alive, why hadn’t she come forward? Or was she simply trying to build a case against him? But how could she? He’d given Beatrix plenty of hush money. The woman would never talk. Or would she? Even then, no judge would believe a cockamamie story about being cursed and driven to suicide. That was simply rubbish.
He was mesmerized by the screen, where that odd phenomenon was repeating itself: Petunia, moving in and out of the vault, as if she wasn’t human but… a ghost! But that wasn’t possible. Ghosts didn’t exist. Or did they? He hadn’t thought ghouls existed, until Beatrix had convinced him they did. He’d just gone there to have his palm read, just like Petunia had told him to, when she said that his fate line was blocked, along with his fortune. Well, he knew who was blocking it, of course. Petunia! And when Beatrix had mentioned that ghouls could be responsible for the kind of misfortune he was facing, he’d quickly convinced her to help stage the production of a lifetime. Featuring Petunia, the ghoul-possessed rock star!
The woman had bought his story hook, line and sinker. But if ghouls existed, maybe ghosts did, too. His lips tightened. Well, he hadn’t gone to all this trouble only to see Petunia’s ghost steal back that sheet music now! Those Flummoxes wouldn’t know what hit them when the cops arrived.
He just hoped that Petunia, his former friend and employer, wouldn’t stick around and haunt him! He’d just carried out the perfect murder, and he didn’t need his victim to give him a lot of trouble after she was dead!
Moments later, he saw on the camera that was mounted over his front door that members of the Aruba Police Force had arrived, and he quickly buzzed them in. Stealthily they proceeded up the stairs, weapons poised, and as he watched with bated breath, he saw to his consternation that those damned Flummox sisters had managed to open the safe, and were now grabbing armfuls of the sheet music Petunia had written, emptying the vault!
“No!” he cried, balling his fists helplessly. “Hurry up, you morons!” he shouted, as he watched the Aruba cops move like molasses. Why were they so slow?! Why didn’t they simply barge in there, guns blazing, like SWAT?!
And then, before his very eyes, suddenly the Flummoxes… vanished!
He saw the police entering the study, and he saw them point their guns at the empty vault, the door still ajar. But of the three women… not a trace!
Where were they? How had they managed? How was this even possible?
He quickly moved to the door and let himself out, then darted from his bedroom and headed for the study, the back of his neck slick with sweat and his heart beating a mile a minute. What the hell was going on here?!
He swept into his study and startled the half dozen or so cops who stood with weapons locked and loaded, waiting for the marauders to show their ugly faces. The only ugly face they saw, however, was that of Sir Rupert.
In the relative darkness of the study, they didn’t recognize him as the homeowner who, as far as they were concerned, was safely tucked away in his panic room, and when he shouted, “What the hell are you standing around here for, you bunch of morons! They’re getting away!” they simply opened fire. And as Rupert saw his body drop to the floor, riddled with bullets, he was still shouting, “Get them! Get the Flummoxes!”
But they weren’t listening. Instead, they flicked on the light and bent over his body, studying it with marked interest. And as he drifted higher and higher, he soon reached the ceiling, and came face to face with… Ernestine Flummox, who waved at him from her vantage point near the ceiling fan. She looked shocked, and when an eerie voice whispered into his ear, “Welcome to the afterlife, Rupie,” he whipped his head around and saw… Petunia.
She was drifting right in front of him, smirking evilly.
It was then that he knew that he was dead.
Chapter 33
One moment, we were gleefully opening the vault and tucking its contents away in a plastic bag I’d found lying around the studio, and the next we were suddenly plastered against the ceiling. And then the marines stormed in, weapons hot, and I knew what must have happened: Gran must have intervened again. Somehow we must have triggered a silent alarm, and the troops had been alerted. And as we watched with bated breath at the scene playing out beneath us, I was reminded of that moment in Mission Impossible when Tom Cruise is hovering over that computer guy, trying hard not to make a sound and catch that drop of sweat. Well, I was sure sweating, though I doubted whether those cops would notice if I dripped on them.
Just then, Rupert came rushing in, dressed in his boxers, and started shouting something about us getting away to the men in combat gear.
Bad move! Next thing I knew, they were shooting at him, and he was dropping dead to the floor. And as I watched, I saw his ghost rise up from his body, and it was obvious it was game over for Sir Rupert Lohenstein.
A part of me felt terrible that this had happened to him, but another part felt he got exactly what he deserved. After all the terrible things he’d done to Petunia and Valerie, he’d forfeited the sympathy I’d ever felt for him.
His ghost, as it drifted up from his body, joined me near the ceiling, and he stared at me, aghast. I waved, for lack of anything appropriate to say.
What do you say to a guy who’s just died? It’s kinda hard to strike the right note. But then Petunia took over from me and I was actually glad.
The cops had left the room, presumably to call an ambulance—and the coroner—and so Petunia gave it to her former friend and gave it good.
“I trusted you, Rupie!” she screamed. “You were my best friend and you betrayed me!”
He didn’t say a word, just hung there staring at her with furrowed brow. What could he say? He must have known he was guilty of a terrible thing.
“I’m sorry you’re dead, Rupie, I truly am, but you had it coming,” she continued. “Now you can feel what it’s like to be dead. It’s not much fun!”
“I—I’m sorry,” he finally muttered. “I—I just figured…”
“You just figured you wanted more than what I was paying you, didn’t you? You wanted it all!”
He nodded stupidly. “I guess… my greed got the better of me,” he said, and they were words I never thought I’d hear a banker utter. Ever. It was kind of a historic moment, though I doubted whether the ABA, the American Bankers Association, would have approved of this bold confession.
“You know it!” Petunia yelled, still angry, and who could blame her?
“Can you forgive me?” he asked, licking his ghostly lips. “And…” He now pointed at his body. “Can you put me back in there? I don’t want to be dead.”
“No, I can’t put you back in there. I’m afraid being dead is irreversible.”
“Oh,” he said, then directed a nasty look at my sisters and me. He pointed his finger at me. “It’s all your fault,” he said nastily. “You and those meddling sisters of yours. If you hadn’t broken into my house and stolen my music…”
“My house!” thundered Petunia. “And my music!” She shook her head. “I’m afraid that you’re not going to like where you’re going next, Rupie.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, still darting very dirty looks at me.
“You can’t get away with what you did. You simply can’t. Maybe in life, but not in death. And then there’s the fact you’re just not very remorseful.”
“Oh, but I am remorseful,” he said, nodding. “I’m super remorseful.”
“Do you believe him?” asked Petunia now, and I had to admit I didn’t.
“Me neither,” she said, and moved away from him as if he had the plague.
And as we watched, Rupert was suddenly yanked down, and he yelled, “Hey! What’s all this?! Get away from me, you bunch of idiots!” But then there was another vigorous pull, and as he was dragged down, disappearing through the floor, it was as if an abyss opened up right there in the middle of the studio, and I caught a glimpse of what looked like thousands of ghouls, grinning up at us from a blood-red vortex that was gaping wide and ominous.
Rupert had cursed Petunia and Valerie with ghouls and now he was getting a taste of his own medicine. Though these ghouls looked even nastier than the ones that had possessed Petunia and her daughter.
The last thing we heard was a long, protracted scream as Rupert was dragged down, on his way to hell, no doubt, and then silence returned.
“How did we get up here?” now asked Edelie.
“It must have been Gran,” I intimated.
“No, it was me, actually,” said Estrella sheepishly. “I thought I heard something and I panicked, uttering the first spell that came to mind.”
“Well, at least you didn’t turn us into a couple of toads,” I said.
“Is there any way you could get us down again?” asked Edelie.
“Why?” asked Estrella. “I kinda like it up here. Nice and safe.”
“If you hadn’t noticed, the place is swarming with cops,” I said. “And since we just broke into that vault and have the bag full of stolen loot to prove it, they might be tempted to throw us in jail. So you better get us out of here.”
She focused now, and so did we. Maybe if we worked together we could manage to get us out of the house, at least. So we held out our hands, twiddled our fingers, and murmured, “Disapparatio!” And not a minute too soon, because we could hear the policemen come stomping up the stairs.
Soon they’d barge in again and see us squashed against the ceiling.
But when I opened my eyes, I could see the moon up in the sky, and my feet were getting very wet. I looked down, and saw we were standing in a few inches of water, the waves rolling in gently and lapping at our feet.
We were on the beach, just outside of Rupert’s house—or I should probably say Petunia’s house now—breathing a sigh of relief.
“I wonder where Corina is?” Estrella asked, searching around.
“Who cares about Corina?” Edelie asked.
“The Blackguards might,” said Estrella.
“They’ll just have to find themselves a new lead guitar player,” I said.
“So all this gushing over Petunia they did—that was a lie?” asked Edie.
“I guess it was,” I said. “Another one of our spells that backfired.” Instead of inducing The Blackguards to speak the truth about Petunia at the wake, we made them lie through their teeth. They hadn’t loved her—they hated her.
“So how do we get home?” asked Estrella, still clasping the plastic bag with Petunia’s music. She was holding it high so it didn’t get wet.
“The same way we came,” I suggested. “We take Air Cassie.”
“Wait,” said Edelie. “Where’s Skip?”
But as we searched around, we saw no sign of the young man. He’d been on guard duty, just like before, only now he’d apparently disappeared.
But then I could feel my stomach churn, and this time I recognized the signs. Gran was whisking us back to Safflower House. I was right, for the next moment I was dripping Caribbean Sea water and mud on Gran’s rug.
“Well, that was quick,” our grandmother said as she eyed us with approving eyes. Her hands were planted on her sides. “Did you manage?”
Estrella held up the plastic bag. “Yay,” she said in a small voice. She, too, was wetting Gran’s rug, but the worst offender of all was Edelie, whose combat boots had seemingly carried a boatload of silt along from Aruba.
“What’s that?” asked Gran now. She was staring at our feet in dismay.
“What happened to Skip?” I asked, trying to distract her. “Didn’t you bring him back with us?”
She gave me a stern look. “I thought he was overdue for a nice, long vacation so I decided to leave him there.”
“You did what?” I asked. Gran had never been too keen on us bringing an outsider into our new business, but this was a bit much, even for her.
“He’s going to have a blast in Aruba,” she said.
“He doesn’t have any money,” Edelie pointed out.
“He’s young. He’ll figure something out.”
“He doesn’t have any clothes!”
“So? Who needs clothes on Aruba?”
“Gran! You have to bring him back,” said Estrella. “What if he’s caught by the police? They might think he’s the intruder who robbed the vault!”
“Nonsense,” she said with pursed lips. “Skip was nowhere near the house when the police charged in.”
“How do you know?” Edelie asked, though the question was moot.
“Oh, very well,” she grumbled, and flicked her wrist. Before our eyes, Skip suddenly materialized, and as he did, we saw he’d brought a friend.
There were loud sounds of muffled shouts and screams as two figures lay wrestling on the carpet. One was Skip Brown. The other was Corina Hooke.
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes,” muttered Gran, and flicked her fingers again. Like a flash, Corina was gone, and only Skip was left, grappling with his foot.
We descended on him, worried when we saw that he had a cut above his eye, and that he looked much the worse for wear. So much for having a great time on Aruba. Gran stood watching the scene, tapping her foot impatiently.
“What happened?” I asked as we helped him to his feet.
He raked a hand through his hair. “I fell from a tree. Well, that’s not really correct. I was kicked out of a tree, actually. By that woman.” He pointed to a spot in the air, and when he saw that Corina was gone, blinked in confusion. “She’s gone,” he concluded lamely.
“How did you get into that tree?” asked Estrella, breathless. She might not care a great deal for non-billionaires, but she was still fond of Skip.
“Well, I crawled into a tree to have a better view of the road, in case the cops arrived, but it turned out that tree was already occupied. By Corina. She was kinda stuck there, her arms and legs caught in the branches. So I did the decent thing and helped her out. Next thing I knew, she kicked me out of that tree and then she was making a run for the house, trying to warn Rupert! So I tackled her, and then we fought.” He was still frowning. “Did I win?”
“Yes, Skip,” said Estrella, patting his head. “You won. You defeated her.”
“Hey, that’s great,” he said, then frowned again. “Where am I?”
“You’re home again.” But when Gran cleared her throat, I amended, “You’re in Brooklyn again.”
“Super,” he said. “And the vault?”
“We cracked it, and Rupert,” said Edelie, and then proceeded to fill Skip in on the details of our harrowing night. He whistled through his teeth.
“So the old boy is dead, huh? Too bad.”
“Why? He got what he deserved,” Petunia said, who’d also joined us.
She was probably right. Rupert had gotten what he deserved. Still, it wasn’t much fun, being dragged down to hell and all that. Which reminded me… “What’s going to happen to Corina? Shouldn’t she be punished?”
“Oh, she will,” said Gran with a fine smile. “I put her back on Aruba, only this time in front of the vault, a few sheets of music in her hands. The police will be happy to discover who robbed th
at vault in the first place.”
“Great going, Gran,” said Estrella, clapping her hands.
“And just so you know, this is the last time I helped you out,” said Gran.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“What I mean is that since this was your first job as Flummox, Inc, I felt compelled to give you a little nudge in the right direction. The next time you’re on your own. So no more ‘Air Gran,’” she said adamantly.
I watched as she spoke these words, and I could see the tight smile on her lips. Somehow I knew she wasn’t being entirely truthful, and when she saw me watch her, her eyes flashed with merriment. I knew that when push came to shove, she would always be there for us. She might play the part of the hard taskmaster now, but she wasn’t going to allow us to run into trouble.
But she was right, of course. Next time we were going to have to up our game considerably. So much had gone wrong this time that it was a small miracle that we’d pulled off this heist in the first place. For one thing, our client was now dead, which is never a good thing for a private protection service. Who’s going to hire a bodyguard whose last client ended up dead?
But then Gran’s frown eased, and she said softly, “All in all, you did good, girls. You managed to save Petunia’s fortune, and you saved Valerie’s life.”
Well, that was true, of course. And now with Rupert dead, maybe Spear would have some wiggle room to get the entire estate transferred to Valerie.
Half an hour later, we were all seated around the kitchen table, while Gran ladled soup into bowls and handed out sandwiches. Estrella had taken out one of the sheets of music from our haul, and was now singing the tune, with Petunia’s assistance. It sounded like a real hit to me, and soon we were all singing along, having a regular jam session in our own kitchen.
This might not have been our best mission ever, apparently we’d done something right, judging from the happy faces around the table. Soon, Valerie and Sofia also dropped by, and joined in the merriment.