Pecan Pies and Dead Guys

by Angie Fox

  “We’ll know in a few minutes,” she added. “We’re having the melee tonight.” She fought to bring her grin back and failed. “It’s a crowd favorite and the perfect chance to slip away.”

  “Oh boy.” I hoped Frankie and De Clercq were around to hear this.

  “The melee is a lot of fun,” Marjorie continued. “You see these ribbons? Here.” She directed my attention to a bright red ribbon tied to her upper arm as I casually searched the crowd for my partners. “All the ladies get them when we arrive at the party. They’re favors. The men get swords—they’re padded sticks, honey, don’t look so worried—and when the signal goes off, they fight each other to win favors from us.”

  Holy smokes. It was a good thing these people were already dead, because this sounded like a recipe for disaster to me. On the one hand, perhaps it would distract the dominant ghost from seeing me and killing me. On the other hand, an enormous fight in the middle of the lawn would be the perfect cover for Shane to slip off and meet his contact. I only hoped De Clercq and Frankie were on it this year. De Clercq didn’t have the best track record when it came to varying the investigation.

  Bang!

  A cannon went off right in front of the house. When the smoke cleared, I saw Graham Adair behind the big gun, decked out in an ermine-trimmed robe. He held aloft a bejeweled scepter. “Queens, bid your lovers good luck! Kings, draw your swords! The melee…has…begun!”

  In under a minute, the charming, chatting crowd turned on each other and I was in the middle of The Hunger Games. I dodged an errant sword, spun, and almost tripped into a gaggle of wagering ladies.

  I used the opportunity to step away from Marjorie.

  “Frankie!” I risked calling his name as loudly as I dared. “Frank!”

  He hated when I called him Frank. That would surely get a reaction.

  A pair of men wielding champagne bottles as swords nearly ran me down. Worse, I saw no trace of Frankie or the inspector in the rollicking crowd.

  This was awful. I would never find my partners in this mess.

  “Look,” Marjorie said. “There he goes now.”

  I whipped my head around to see Shane Jordan slip out the side door of the house, not twenty feet away from us. He had Greasy Larry’s briefcase tucked under his arm.

  “You see that?” I pointed at the brown leather case. “That’s the briefcase I found in Fern and Larry’s room.”

  Nobody but the dominant ghost would be able to get that briefcase back and just carry it around like that uncontested.

  “I’ve never seen him with it before,” Marjorie whooshed out as we watched her lover move swiftly through the darkness toward the menagerie.

  Yeah, well I had a feeling he didn’t exactly include her in his business dealings.

  After one furtive glance behind, he snuck inside.

  I exchanged a look with a wide-eyed Marjorie.

  “What’s he doing?” she demanded.

  “I have no clue,” I told her, but I had a feeling this was it. The meeting was going down right now.

  “I’m going after him.” She morphed into an orb of light and shot across the lawn toward Shane Jordan.

  “Wait for me,” I said, following as best I could, sticking to the shadows, heading straight for the haunted menagerie.

  Chapter 21

  Shane Jordan had to be the killer. He’d driven me out of the upstairs bedroom and taken the briefcase, which nobody else had known about and which he’d kept hidden until I found it in Larry’s room. From the black tar he’d oozed and the horror he’d rained down on me, I didn’t think he’d be giving that prize up anytime soon.

  Fine. I’d figure out what to do. I just needed to learn why he was carrying the case into the menagerie.

  And I’d be doing it alone if Frankie and De Clercq didn’t show up soon.

  The orb of light that was Marjorie hovered outside the wavy glass panes of the menagerie. “Hurry up,” she urged.

  I stopped at the door and gave one quick peek backward, past the darkened yard to the party beyond, desperate for one last chance to signal my backup. I spotted Frankie and De Clercq in the distance, lurking behind a tall oak, observing Marcus of all people.

  Marjorie’s husband towered over a small blond ghost who appeared as if she needed rescuing. I could see how the young woman’s plight had caught the attention of both Frankie and De Clercq, but I needed at least one of them right now, preferably De Clercq.

  “Frankie,” I called as loud as I dared, “Inspector De Clercq!”

  They were too far away to hear, and I couldn’t throw my voice like Frankie could. I waved frantically, but neither man glanced my way. They had their eyes on the blonde.

  So much for the inspector and his ability to see everything.

  “Shane’s moving fast,” Marjorie hissed.

  Right.

  I didn’t have time to wait.

  I edged the door open, its rusty hinges creaking loudly, announcing my presence to anyone within a twenty-foot radius. I prayed Shane Jordan was far enough ahead of me not to hear it. With any luck, he was as good as De Clercq at ignoring the living.

  With a deep breath, I ducked inside the decrepit menagerie. The place was pitch-black, both in my world and on the ghostly plane.

  In fact, the ghostly scene I’d witnessed the first time I’d been here had completely disappeared.

  “Marjorie?” I whispered into the dark. No reply.

  I stood, hoping my eyes would adjust and show me a glimpse of my surroundings. It was strange and unsettling. Shane had to be the dominant ghost. But if Shane had taken over this place, I should be seeing it as he did. Not as the darkened husk that it was in my world.

  I spotted a flicker ahead, a glowing orb, and prayed it was Marjorie. I hurried to join her, then slowed.

  For all I knew, she could be in this with Shane. I had only her word that they’d broken up, her word that she knew nothing about the briefcase he carried. She seemed eager enough to pursue him.

  Marjorie could have been playing me all along.

  The gritty floor crunched under my feet. I tried to keep my movements as quiet as the dead. I felt my way down the hallway, my fingers feathering over rusted cage bars. The only other time I’d been down this way, these pens had held monkeys and all sorts of creatures. Parrots had flocked overhead.

  The silence now felt deafening.

  Wrong.

  The orb of light paused at the end of the corridor.

  “There.” Marjorie’s soft whisper floated back to me.

  I made it to the edge of the wall in just enough time to see Shane’s back vanish down the left corridor. At the same time, I kept close track of Marjorie hovering above me.

  I could see a little more of the left corridor by the light of the ghost. I hadn’t been down that way the first night.

  The floor seemed a little cleaner, the bars on the cages a little thicker. Perhaps the animals in this section had been bigger and stronger. The cage door to my right hung open, as did the one across from it.

  All right. The animals were long gone. As far as I was concerned, that was a good thing. Trouble was, animal ghosts could still corner you when you least expected it.

  “Let’s go,” Marjorie hissed, shooting down the darkened hall.

  I followed as fast as I dared. My stomach sank when I saw ghostly light streaming from the cages ahead. At least those appeared locked. I kept going.

  My toe caught on a broken pane of glass and I fell against a large heavily barred cage. A low growl erupted from it. I pushed away seconds before a frighteningly familiar lion crashed against the ghostly bars, swiping at me with its massive front paw. It might have snagged me, too, if not for Marjorie darting between us, her energy flaring bright enough to force the creature back. It seemed the dominant ghost had brought the lion home.

  As soon as Marjorie’s energy faded, the lion struck again, throwing itself against its cage. It roared loudly enough to alert our prey that he was being fol
lowed, and I saw the lion for what it was—an early warning system.

  Shane Jordan was no dummy. No wonder he’d gotten away with murder for nearly a century.

  “Let’s keep moving,” I said. But the damage had been done.

  Marjorie hung back. “This feels like a trap,” she whispered, the fear in her voice scaring me all over again.

  “You think Shane planned this?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. He’s scary smart.” Her strained answer sounded in my ear.

  Not what I wanted to hear.

  But the fear in her voice seemed real, which meant she might be on my side after all. Either way, it wasn’t like I could turn back now.

  The lion hit the bars again, shaking its cage, rocking the supports, which were attached to the windowed ceiling, which—crrrrack!

  A jagged line crawled across the ghostly glass above us.

  The lion roared and slammed, and the glass ceiling shook and splintered. It was about to break.

  “Run,” I said, leading the way as the ghostly ceiling exploded and rained down shards of glass right where I’d stood. They joined the real-life shards on the floor.

  I couldn’t think about that right now. “We can’t afford to lose him,” I insisted, sprinting for all I was worth.

  With Marjorie’s help, I avoided a cluster of croaking poison dart frogs clinging to the rusted remains of a hanging wire cage. As we turned the corner, I almost ran into the ghost of an antelope—loose from its cage—whose horns looked sharp enough to skewer me.

  I yelped. It darted. And there was no way Shane didn’t know exactly where I stood.

  Yet Marjorie stuck beside me, protecting me, or perhaps leading me to my demise.

  I saw the distant glow of ghostly activity around the next bend.

  The short, tight hallway ahead held immense aquariums on both sides. I hoped that was a good sign. I liked fish. Moonlight shone down from the broken glass ceiling. I wasn’t sure what kind of fish would be in the murky, low-lying tanks, but I should be able to handle…fish.

  I barely repressed a shriek when the ghostly tank right in front of me exploded, gushing a flood of water onto the floor. A long, thick body slipped out with it, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. One look at its enormous jaws, bristling with teeth as long as my little finger, and I realized that the tank had held an alligator.

  Oh, sweet Jesus.

  An eight-foot-long alligator stood between the dominant ghost and me.

  Marjorie was nowhere to be seen. Just as I’d suspected, just as I’d feared, she’d led me to danger and abandoned me.

  She had been with Shane for decades, after all. Girl talk aside, it would be in her best interest to get rid of me, to keep the man she loved safe. Besides, I knew her secrets. I’d come too close. If she’d led such a hard life before she married Marcus, if she’d been rejected by the child she’d helped raise, if she’d craved love like it was air—she’d betray me for her man in a heartbeat.

  Girls didn’t always stick together. I’d been crazy to trust her.

  A cage screeched open in the distance, and a moment later the triumphant roar of the newly freed lion echoed down the hall.

  Cripes.

  Stay calm.

  Too late. Heart in my throat, I checked for anything I could climb to escape, or barring that, at least something I could use as a weapon. I ripped off my mask and used it to grab a piece of shattered glass, fighting off a shudder as the chill of the ghost version crawled through my hand.

  Sure. A girl and a piece of glass against the Adairs’ wild kingdom.

  Worse, I had no backup and no quick exit unless I could learn how to climb walls and escape through the ceiling.

  The rumbling lion began to move, big paws scuffling on the floor. I heard the glass I’d tripped over a minute ago crunch warningly.

  I had a lion behind me and an alligator in front of me. Now was not the time for contemplation. I faced the alligator, which hissed. Maybe I could jump over it. I had to try. I grabbed my skirts, obscenely grateful Frankie had made sure my dress had the give for this sort of thing. I backed up a step, braced myself, and took a running leap.

  I heard the snap of jaws as I landed on its tail, but I kept running. I didn’t stop until I reached the end. I was alive. Whole. I looked back. The alligator hadn’t followed.

  Yet.

  I pressed a hand to my chest. Hallelujah.

  “Verity.” Marjorie appeared in front of me, in human form once more, frantic.

  “Where were you?” I demanded.

  “Shh…” She brought a finger to her lips.

  I kept my distance.

  “The lion isn’t your biggest problem back there,” she hissed. “There’s someone else following us.”

  I didn’t even look back. I refused to take my eyes off her. “Who’s following?” I pressed. “Alive or dead?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

  A dead person would have as much of a problem getting around those ghostly carnivores as I did. But a live killer would make it easily.

  Cammi’s death had made it clear. A living, breathing person was trying to kill me. I had no idea who or why, but that didn’t matter. It only made my situation more dangerous.

  I listened in the dark for any sign of my pursuer.

  I was alone in a rickety, abandoned property far outside of town. If my stalker had followed me to the mansion, he or she could be hunting me where I stood. I’d been paying so much attention to the ghosts that I’d forgotten to guard against the living. Just as Ellis had been afraid I would do.

  Or maybe it was all a lie—just Shane and Marjorie, looking for an advantage.

  The crunch of the glass—had that happened in the ghost realm, or had a real person made that noise? With broken glass in both realms, there was no way to know.

  My stalker could be watching me right now.

  I held my ground, ready to stab with my shard of glass.

  It was getting hard to separate the ghost realm from the real one. The alligator’s hissing grew louder. The lion’s claws scraped against broken glass.

  “Come on,” Marjorie pressed. “Shane has stopped.”

  “How do I know that?” The only thing I could count on was the glass in my hand and hopefully a wall at my back.

  She stared at me.

  My heart beat fast. My skin felt hot. “How can I believe anything you say?”

  Her eyes grew hard, determined. “Because I want to see my daughter again, and I can’t do that without you.”

  She’d turned her life upside down for EJ, she’d lied about who she was, loved her from afar. Lost her. I was the key to getting her back. Marjorie was right—either I trusted that or I didn’t.

  “Let’s go.” I pushed off the wall.

  She gave a sharp nod and floated away down the hall. I hustled after her, using her pale gray light to avoid stepping on what looked like the world’s biggest tarantula. It scuttled toward the darkness beneath the closest cages.

  Marjorie paused up ahead. I joined her and peered around the corner.

  Shane stood facing away from us, in the center of what appeared to be the home of every snake in this place save Sir Charles.

  The snake house was built as a semicircle, with our hall and another intersecting there. It had at least a dozen cages and aquariums perched on elegant wooden shelves.

  Shane strode to the middle row of cages and rapped a wire frame door with the edge of the briefcase. An angry rattle erupted from inside.

  “Yeah, that’s right. Get mad,” he muttered, moving to the next cage. “You need to be hungry for this.” He smacked the adjoining cage, then the next. The chorus of hisses and rattles began to grow.

  “I don’t know what he’s doing. He’s scared to death of snakes,” Marjorie whispered harshly, hands over her mouth. She trembled. “I have to—I have to talk to him.”

  “No, you don’t.” Unless she really was on his side.

  Shane seemed
fine. He might be meeting someone. We had to keep watch.

  She surged for her lover.

  “No!” I tried to grab her.

  It was pure instinct, and it hurt like a mother. My hand passed straight through her shoulder, the blazing chill nearly bringing me to my knees.

  Marjorie cried out, stumbled from the impact, but kept going. “Shane!” She rushed to him. “What are you doing?”

  Shane whirled at the sound of her voice, the case tight in his grip. “Marjorie?” Horror flooded his expression. “Oh, honey, no.” He took a step forward and held a hand between them. “You can’t be here right now.”

  “Tell me what you’re doing with Larry’s briefcase,” she said as if he’d lost his mind.

  “I stole it,” he said, backing away from us.

  “How?” she shot back, but he merely shook his head. “If something’s going down, you need to tell me,” she insisted. “I mean you set the animals free and everything. Why did you do that? The lion tried to take a bite out of Verity.”

  Shane gaped. “The live girl? I don’t give a damn about her.”

  “Yes, well, an alligator could have eaten me,” Marjorie said, advancing on him.

  He took a step back, clutching the briefcase. “If you ever loved me, Marjorie, you need to get out now.” His eyes darted from her to the exit. “The animals weren’t me,” he insisted, scanning the room as if he expected an attack any second. “None of what you see is me.”

  I stiffened, glancing behind me, to either side, to the cracked and broken glass ceiling. Shane was genuinely scared for Marjorie. That meant he wasn’t the dominant ghost. But who was?

  “Please.” Shane looked into her eyes, the hardened man dead serious, just short of begging. “It would be a disaster if he found you here with me.”

  I could only think of one person who would be very unhappy to see Shane and his lover in the menagerie. “Marcus.”

  The ruined roof crackled as black ooze began to stream from empty panes of glass.

  Shane’s drawn face tightened even further. He swore. “You gotta go. Now.”