Mike strode to the middle of the space, widened his stance, planted his hands on his hips, and pivoted his head as if he were master of all that he surveyed.
“Is this place great or what?” he asked.
“Or what,” Toni answered.
Mike tilted his head at Toni. “Aw, c’mon, Bianchi. Where’s your imagination—your pioneer spirit?”
“I left it at that rundown B & B in Iowa—along with a good chunk of my retirement fund.”
Mike walked over to Toni, scooped up her hand and pulled her farther into the building.
“You gotta see this place, Toni. It’s got some really cool stuff! There’s a big freezer for dipping ice cream and old dispensers for chocolate sauce and—”
Toni let herself be led across the black and white tile floor, weaving in and out between the tiny tables. As they passed near the long counter, Toni’s sandal landed on the slick of pink slime and slid along the surface, breaking through the outer film and releasing the sickeningly sweet aroma of long-melted ice cream. Toni’s mind briefly registered strawberry before her foot shot out from under her body and kicked the mop bucket, sending swampy water gushing across the floor. She tried to break her fall by grabbing hold of a table, but it teetered immediately, sending the bus tub—and its disgusting contents—raining down upon her. Toni didn’t realise that Mike still had a grip on her hand until he landed beside her—belly-flopping in the sticky goo.
Toni lay still for a moment then began checking herself for injury. She bent her knees and elbows and rotated her wrists and ankles. Satisfied that her joints and limbs were performing as designed, she turned to face Mike. She cringed at the feeling of her hair sticking to the floor. Mike had turned over onto his back and swiped melted strawberry ice cream from his cheek. He stared blankly upward.
“You okay?” she asked
Mike shook his head.
“Is something broken? Did you hit your head on the way down?”
Mike reached up and laced his fingers behind his head, seemingly mindless of the sticky mess. He crossed his legs and stared upward, looking for all the world like he was lying in a meadow contemplating the clouds. He let out a soft whistle. “Wow! Look at the detail in that tin ceiling. They just don’t make things like that anymore.”
Finally he turned to face Toni, his hair plastered to the side of his face with months-old ice cream. “Is this place great or what?”
Chapter Two
Toni struggled to her feet and slogged through the puddle of melted ice cream to the sink behind the soda fountain. She opened the taps and began to scrub her hands and forearms as she looked out over the shop. The place really was charming. It was twice as long as it was wide. A row of booths with tall backs stood against the State Street windows. And she supposed the little bistro tables arranged in the centre of the space wouldn’t be so bad once they’d been scrubbed down.
Toni turned to locate a towel and was startled by her reflection. The enormous mirror behind the counter was the centrepiece of a bank of dark-stained wood shelves that extended wall to wall and nearly to the ceiling. The base cabinets were fitted with brass hardware and topped with the same white marble as the counter. She found a stack of bar rags folded on a shelf, and, as she dried her hands, she read the labels on the pump dispensers under the mirror—‘fudge’, ‘caramel’, ‘chocolate’. She caught movement in the reflective glass. Toni jerked up her head in time to watch the reflection of a man in a white shirt cross slowly out of view towards the back of the shop. A prickling tingle zipped up her throat and over her scalp.
She wheeled around, hoping to see Mike standing behind her, but no one was in her line of vision. She leaned over the counter and found her real estate agent still lying on his back in the sugary muck, ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ over the tin ceiling. He turned to look at her and his smile faded. He jumped to his feet.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said.
Toni’s gaze slid from Mike to the rear of the shop and back again.
“Toni? Have you seen a ghost?”
She could only point in response. Mike followed her fingertip and hurried to the back of the shop, dodging the overturned table and bus tray as he went. Mike slowed as he reached the shadowed back wall, finally stopping when he was within a few feet of the darkened kitchen doorway. He bent sideways at the waist and peered into the opening.
“Mike, don’t go back there,” Toni said.
Mike straightened and turned to look at Toni, but Toni’s eyes were fixed on the tall figure that had appeared in the doorway. Her eyes stretched wide and her mouth dropped open, but she couldn’t make a sound.
Toni watched as Mike grimaced, pulled his shoulders up around his ears, and slowly turned to see what had caused her reaction. She focused her attention on the apparition behind him. Male—definitely male. Tall—if Mike was six feet, then the intruder had to be six foot six. Lanky, but not skinny, long legs.
“Look out!” Toni shouted as the apparition reached out from the doorway.
Mike—quite inexplicably—covered his head and squatted where he stood as if dodging swooping vampire bats.
The ghost groped around the door frame and Toni’s skin prickled. In a flash, the back of the room was illuminated, revealing shelves lined with apothecary jars behind a lighted display case.
Mike peered up from his crouched position.
Toni scrunched up her forehead and frowned.
The ghost slowly raised his hand…and said, “How ya doin’?”
* * * *
Light switch. The ghost had been groping for the light switch. You’d think ghosts could see in the dark.
Toni took a moment to regain her equilibrium. Mike had straightened up and Toni watched him reach out towards the ghost’s chest. Toni half expected Mike’s hand to pass right through the spectre. Instead, it stopped, apparently meeting with solid flesh.
“Everything okay in here?” it—he—asked, taking a step backward and grasping Mike’s outstretched hand in a handshake.
“You’re a real man,” Mike observed.
I’ll say, Toni thought.
The real man was six and a half feet of long-legged good looks. He was dressed entirely in black, which had helped to reinforce the previous assumption of walking death. Heavy black biker boots—big ones at that. Just-tight-enough black jeans. A black T-shirt stretched over a broad chest. His wavy hair was just a shade lighter than his clothes and a shade darker than his shadow of a beard.
The real human extricated his hand and nodded. “Liam Greco. I own the Ex Libris Bookshop next door. I went out back to sweep the alley and I heard a ruckus.”
That’s what he looks like when he sweeps?
“Mike Briggs, real estate agent and ruckus-maker. Pleased to meet you.”
Mike reached out for a second, more appropriate greeting. Liam returned Mike’s handshake, but his eyes were locked on Toni.
He smiled and a thrill tingled over Toni’s scalp.
Wow.
“How about you?” Liam asked, raising a thick, black eyebrow. “Did you play any part in the ruckus-making?”
Liam pulled away from Mike and was across the room in a few long strides. He laid his palms on the marble counter and pinned Toni with his big black-brown eyes. He winked and the tingle moved between her legs.
Uh-oh.
“Well? Ruckus-maker or not?”
Toni felt her mouth twitch. She narrowed her eyes, but the smile won out. She pulled in a deep breath and his attention turned to her rising breasts. She set her fists on her hips. His gaze slid down the outline of her curves and then back to her face. He winked again.
Who is this guy?
Toni’s insides fluttered and she struggled to feign nonchalance. She extended her hand and watched it disappear into his.
“I make a ruckus at every opportunity. Toni Bianchi, your new neighbour.”
Liam held her hand just a beat too long.
“Welcome to the neighbourh
ood, Toni.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
Seriously?
His lips were so warm, and so soft. Toni couldn’t help herself. She leaned in and smelt his hair.
God, he smells amazing.
“Do you investigate every ruckus, Liam?”
Liam lifted his head and let go of her hand.
“Just trying to dissuade vandals. The kids get in here—mostly on dares—see who can last more than five minutes in the dark.”
Toni’s skin prickled again—this time not in response to the bookseller’s good looks.
“You too?” she asked.
“Me too what?”
“Ghosts,” Mike said from the back of the shop. Toni had forgotten he was in the room. He was behind the display case looking over the rows of candy-filled apothecary jars lined up on the shelves.
“She wants to know if you too believe this place is haunted.”
Mike plucked a jar of jelly beans from the shelf, set its lid on the display case and dug out a handful of colourful candy.
“It is,” Liam responded.
Toni set her right hand back on her hip.
“How do you know? Have you seen the ghost?”
“Ghosts—plural. And yes, I’ve seen them and heard them.”
“Are you saying you know who they are—I mean—were?” Toni asked.
Liam nodded. “I’d be happy to tell you all about it, but first—if you don’t mind—I’d like to come around back and clean off my boots. Looks like I’m standing in melted strawberry ice cream.”
* * * *
“Found it,” Mike called from the front of the shop. Toni heard a whoosh as the air conditioning came on. She sighed as cool air started to flow from the exposed ductwork overhead.
Mike joined Toni and Liam behind the counter. Liam rested his hand on the stainless steel sliding lid atop the ice cream freezer.
“Do we dare?” he asked.
“We’re already dirty,” Toni replied with a wink.
Mike slid back the lid and the three peered in. Their hands immediately shot to their noses as the sickly sweet/sour smell wafted up. Seven disintegrating round waxed cardboard cartons—and an empty hole where the strawberry should’ve been—were lined up four-by-two inside. The walls of the cartons had drooped and flopped over.
Liam stepped out of the way while Toni hunted under the counter until she found a box of industrial black plastic trash bags. She held open a bag while Mike deposited the sticky cardboard remains. The two looked down at the congealed mess at the bottom of the ice cream freezer.
Mike turned to Toni. “Clean or explore?”
Toni glanced towards the shadowy doorway at the back of the shop. She wondered about the entity that had disappeared there a moment before Liam had emerged. “Let’s clean until Bridget gets here. Then Liam can tell us what he knows about our ‘boarders’ and we’ll go poke around the rest of the place.”
Mike nodded. He retrieved the grey plastic wash tub and hauled it behind the counter. He sorted out the garbage, then put the dishes and utensils into the wash sink and filled it with soapy water. He filled a bucket, grabbed a sponge, and began scrubbing the inside of the freezer. Toni set to work on the dishes.
Liam located a radio behind the counter and turned on the power. He adjusted the dial until a drawn-out electric guitar chord burst from the little speakers. As the note began to fade, a bass drum picked up, followed by a snare. A bass guitar thunked out a heavy series of notes. The band came together in a sudden burst of sound and the ice-cream parlour was filled with classic rock ‘n’ roll. Mike paused long enough to thrust one arm in the air, fashioning his index and pinkie fingers into horns, before returning to his work. Toni tapped her foot to the beat and nodded her head in time to the music while she scrubbed the dishes.
Liam let out a rock-band front-man, “Owwww!” and Toni turned to see him jut out his pelvis and play a few licks of air guitar. Her eyes were involuntarily drawn to the bulge at the front of his jeans.
Oh my.
Toni got caught looking. Liam gave one more windmill strum of his air guitar—in perfect time to the music—winked at Toni then dropped the rock star bit as abruptly as flipping a switch. His attention remained on her. He jerked up his eyebrows in a look that clearly said ‘I know that you know that I saw you looking at my crotch’. Toni’s face heated. She watched Liam’s tight ass as he walked around to the front of the counter.
“There’s a utility sink in the kitchen. I’ll get some fresh water,” Liam said, wheeling the bucket towards the back, using the mop handle to steer.
“You really don’t have to,” Toni said.
Liam stopped and looked over his shoulder.
“I don’t mind. That’s what neighbours are for. And, besides, it’s in the best interest of my business to have this place thrive. Hell, I’d be happy to have it stay open under the same owner for more than a few months.”
Toni watched Liam turn and push the bucket into the back room. Mike had said the place was haunted. She wondered what he was leaving out.
Chapter Three
The tarnished brass bell above the door jangled as Bridget O’Malley stumbled into the shop balancing a grocery sack atop a case of beer. Toni turned over the last chair and placed it on top of a bistro table. She nodded towards the bank of booths against the wall of windows.
Bridget set down her load where Toni had indicated. Mike slid up behind her and pulled her against his body. He spun her around and pressed his mouth into hers. Toni smiled. Her last haunted business venture had brought those two together. Mike had been a guest at Toni’s bed-and-breakfast inn—visiting the tiny town of Soldiers Orchard to take part in the annual Civil War re-enactment. Bridget had been at the inn to investigate Toni’s resident ghost as part of the television show Paranormal Research Team. They’d been together ever since.
Mike released Bridget and asked, “Where’ve you been?”
“Got hung up when I stopped to get supplies. What have you two been up to?”
“Three,” corrected Liam Greco as he wheeled his fourth refreshed mop bucket from the back room.
He let go of the mop and strode towards Bridget, his hand extended.
“Liam Greco. I’m the neighbour.”
Bridget returned the handshake. “Bridget O’Malley, friend, girlfriend and beer-getter.”
“And ghost hunter. I’ve seen the show,” Liam said.
Liam released Bridget’s hand and turned back to the bucket. Toni heard the wet slap of the mop hitting the tiles behind her. Bridget caught Toni’s eye and raised her eyebrows in appreciation. Toni answered with an eye roll, but the implication thrilled her. She hadn’t been with anyone since she and Thomas had parted ways. She imagined Liam’s full lips on hers and her pussy dampened.
Oh thank God! I’m back.
Toni’s libido had taken a serious plunge after Thomas had left. To be precise, it had suffered after the dreamlike ménage with Thomas and the ghost of John Buckman. Toni had feared that the intensity of that ghostly three-way had somehow damaged her sex drive. Her primal, sexual response to the gorgeous bookseller was a relief.
Toni shifted, pressing her soft thighs together. Bridget looked like she was about to say something when Mike squeezed her waist and pulled her into him.
“Your timing is perfect, babe,” Mike said, kissing the spot where Bridget’s flame-red hair met her creamy white temple. “We’re going to finish up here and then take a tour.” Toni smiled as the chaste peck escalated to a full-fledged lip-grinding kiss. Bridget slapped Mike on the ass and pulled away. He frowned. She winked.
“So, what’s the story here?” Bridget asked.
“Plenty of paranormal activity,” Mike said. “It’s been enough to scare away half a dozen owners in the past few years.”
Toni’s mouth dropped open. “Six owners! You’re kidding, right? Are the walls bleeding or what?”
Liam leaned the mop handle against a booth an
d walked to where the three stood. “No bleeding walls, but plenty of other weird stuff. Most people just see a blur when Vinnie is out and about. Daisy is the rowdy one.”
“Vinnie and Daisy?” Mike asked.
Liam nodded. “The ghosts. Vinnie’s dad owned the soda fountain back in the twenties and Daisy’s family ran a tailor’s shop next door, where my bookshop is now. Every day after work Daisy would come over here and sit at the counter and Vinnie would make her an egg cream. They fell in love. The story goes that they were going to elope, but Daisy got cold feet and didn’t show up. Vinnie drove his truck into a tree that night. He died instantly. Daisy was so overcome with guilt she just lost it. She would sit at that counter for hours and write in her journal and at six o’clock every evening she’d drink an egg cream. Vinnie’s dad was so grief-stricken he’d close up the shop and let her make it herself. She’d wash the glass, put it back on the shelf and then leave. She wouldn’t eat anything else, just that egg cream and that’s only, what, two, maybe three hundred calories. She just wasted away.”
“She starved herself to death?” Bridget asked.
Liam nodded again. “That’s the story. She died right behind the counter.”
“I wonder what was in that journal,” Mike said.
Liam shrugged. “Nobody knows. They never found it.”
“That’s so sad!” Bridget said.
“And creepy,” Toni added.
“Totally!” Mike said, not sounding at all creeped out. The prospect must have turned him on, because he gathered Bridget into another lip lock. Liam laughed and went back to his mopping.
Toni turned to check on the dishware drying behind the counter when something brushed against her bare calf, just below the hem of her capris. She jerked up her knee and took a long step away from the touch. She looked down at the floor behind her, fully expecting to see a stray cat coming in for another leg rub. There was no cat. Toni pivoted a complete three hundred and sixty degrees. Mike and Bridget were ten feet away still locked in a kiss. Liam was even farther away—his back to Toni—bobbing his head and mopping in time with the music coming from the radio.
A Triple Scoop of I Scream Page 2