A Spot of Bother

by Magenta Wilde

  There at my kitchen table sat my father. He looked like he was waiting.

  “Dad?” I whispered. I forgot my plan for a hot beverage and sat next to him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Are you okay, Poppy?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I think so. I just, well … did you catch a glimpse of what happened earlier this evening?”

  He nodded. “Some of it, anyways. I heard you scream and I heard the command you gave. It raised my hackles, so I came to check on you. Whatever threat you saw, I think you banished it — at least temporarily. When I saw Roger comforting you — he’s a good one, that young man is — and that your mother was nearby, I left the scene and tried to follow the trail.”

  “And?”

  “Did you see that kid who drowned himself?”

  “Um. Maybe?” I told him what I’d seen by the river, and then what popped up in the room.

  Dad nodded. “Yes, it sounds like you saw him.”

  “Who is he?”

  Dad shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’ve seen him around. He’s been in the area long before me — and that’s long before I was born — but as a ghost, he’s kind of a ghost of himself, really.”

  I wasn’t sure what to make of that. “You don’t have a name? A history?”

  Dad shook his head. “I know he drowned himself in the river, but I don’t know more than that. He won’t talk to anyone. He just hangs around the St. Mary’s mostly.”

  “Hmmm. It’s the first time I recall seeing him.”

  “Since he turned up in the house — and you said you were sure you saw each other from where you were looking out — I’m thinking he has a connection to the place.”

  “I hope he doesn’t have a connection to me,” I murmured. “He scared the hell out of me, looking all drowned and bloated. It smelled like rot around him, too.”

  “Most ghosts revert to some preferred version of themselves, when they were younger or in some clothing they liked to wear when they were alive. This guy clearly was massively unhappy — the suicide makes that much obvious — and he’s chosen to hang onto that moment of despair.”

  A thought came to me. “Ash said that the house he’s renting, that for a while it served as a boarding house. Do you think this guy maybe was a tenant?”

  “It could be. Has Ash mentioned seeing anything weird in the house?”

  “Not like that, no. He said he hasn’t been looking, however.”

  “I doubt you were either, Poppy.”

  “I’m never looking to see a drowned, rotting, bloated dead body. I wonder where I could find out more about the ghost, though. As far as I know the Parker house doesn’t have a reputation for being haunted.”

  “The people who own it are notoriously private, though,” Dad said. “There might be some folks around who have answers, however.”

  I had a feeling I knew where Dad was going. “Are you suggesting …?”

  “Hey, I know she’s pushy and is always trying to recruit you, but she knows her haunted history.”

  I sighed. “I guess I could listen to a spiel if it means I might get a few answers. I feel for anyone devastated enough to drown themselves, and to be perfectly honest, I’d really rather not see that again. That was a whole Halloween movie marathon of creepy right there.”

  “Then you know what you need to do.”

  With that Dad winked out of sight. Having spoken to him had calmed me, and so had some moments of shaking off that awful dream, so I decided I wanted to crawl back into bed with Roger more than having a cup of tea.

  Plus, if I happened to wake him again, I had an idea of a nice activity that would send us both back to sleep.

  21

  “There’s my favorite ghost whisperer.”

  I looked up to see Zelda Malone walking into my shop.

  She was a redhead like me, and also boasted an unnatural shade of ginger, but hers was more maroon in contrast to my bright red.

  “You’re starting with some mega flattery, which makes you suspect,” I said.

  “So young. So suspicious. I heard you found some ghostly relics and thought that I might be a source of help. Considering my line of business, you can’t blame me for being interested.”

  “Who told you that? About the relics, I mean?” Could she communicate with ghosts, I wondered.

  “I heard that your ex found something in the basement level of his pub. You know how people in this town love to gossip.”

  “And?” I waited to hear more.

  “And I have some familiarity with the site. Plus, I see the odd ghost lurking around you. Namely your father. I also heard from Marie Montgomery that you managed to contact her dearly departed daughter.”

  “Oh. I guess the cat’s out of the bag, huh?”

  “That feline escaped ages ago, and you know it. Why do you think I’ve tried to recruit you for ghost walks?”

  I shrugged. “I really wasn’t sure. I know you wanted me to dress up in something witchy or mysterious.”

  “And you didn’t like that, I presume.”

  “I’m a bit witchy and perhaps a bit mysterious,” I said, “but I don’t like to flaunt it.”

  “Just your hair color?”

  “I like this shade. What can I say? And hair color is one thing. Wearing a corset and a heavy velvet cape while toting around a wand or broom is quite another.”

  “That velvet cape, in addition to looking great, is nice and warm in the colder months.”

  “Well, you got me there.” I raised the mug of coffee I was on the verge of draining. “Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?”

  “Coffee. Black. Thanks.”

  I was alone in my shop at that moment so I quickly dashed back for two cups of coffee, returning a couple minutes later. I handed Zelda her mug and invited her to sit on my new couch.

  “So what do you know about Scott’s building?” I began. “I know it was the Chapman building.”

  “And you tried to get a bit of history from Lester the Lech, I’ve heard.”

  I nodded. “He’s supposed to get back to me with some information once he digs it up.”

  “Did he ask you to lunch?”

  I nodded again.

  Zelda sighed. “Of course he did. He chases anything in a skirt.”

  “Sounds like he’s done some pursuing of you in the past.”

  “He did. And he caught me. For a bit. When we were both younger.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

  “It’s practically ancient history for someone your age. You were probably in kindergarten at the latest when that all went down.”

  “Were you serious?”

  “For a hot minute, perhaps, but it soon petered out. He peters out a lot,” she said, giving me a knowing look.

  “Mmmm.” I bobbed my head in response. I wasn’t sure what to say. Zelda redirected the discussion, so that simplified things for me.

  “I’m a good source of history on the Chapman building,” Zelda said.

  “How so? Are you kin?”

  “Exactly.”

  That was unexpected. “I’m eager to hear more,” I said as I scooted a bit closer. “Tell me all about it.”

  “I’m glad,” she said, draining her cup and handing it back to me. “But I’m not just going to tell you about it. Instead I’ll show you.”

  I had a feeling I knew where this was headed. “Is this going to involve a tour?”

  “You got it. I’ll be leading a small cemetery tour the night of the Christmas tree lighting, but I’ll give you a tour the night before. You may find some helpful answers.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but could think of nothing to protest, other than freezing my butt off for a couple hours, so I agreed.

  22

  The night of the private cemetery tour was cold and windy, with flurries whipping past. At least there wasn’t any freezing rain in the forecast, so I considered that fortunate, despite the bite in the air.

  Zelda had suggested we meet
at Emily’s Eatery and pick up some hot cocoas to go. When I approached Emily’s café, I spotted Emily and Zelda sitting at a table near the window, chatting amiably. I gave a rap on the glass door and waved as I let myself in.

  “Well, lookee here,” my friend drawled. “Zelda’s got you checking out some of the town haunts.”

  “Literally,” I smiled. I slipped out of my coat and sat with the duo. “Good to see you, Zelda,” I nodded. “Good to see you, too, Emily,” I smiled.

  I was surprised to see the sunny blonde seated even though a few customers milled about, sipping hot drinks and tucking into sandwich-and-soup combos.

  “You’re not behind the counter,” I noted.

  “I’ve got a bit of help,” Emily said, tilting her head in the direction of the cash register.

  There stood a younger version of Emily — a tall, lithe blonde, but instead of her pale hair being styled in a straight long bob, it was twisted in a topknot and wild tendrils escaped around her head, giving her a fuzzy halo effect. The resemblance was near enough that had I not known Emily’s teenaged children, I would have guessed the girl was her daughter.

  “I see a family resemblance,” I began.

  Emily raised her hand and motioned for the girl to come over. She practically skipped to our table.

  “Can I get you all anything,” she asked in a sing-song voice.

  “In a moment, perhaps, hon,” Emily smiled. “You’ve already met Zelda here, but let me introduce you to a very good friend, Poppy. Poppy, meet my niece Meadow. She’ll be helping out at the café here.”

  “Nice to meet you, Poppy,” the girl smiled, doing a small curtsying bob as she acknowledged me.

  “Good to meet you,” I nodded. I wondered if she had a similar skillset as her aunt.

  She tilted her blonde head and looked me over. “I think you’d like an orange cocoa. Hold the whip.”

  I looked to Emily and caught her beaming at me. “Yes, Meadow has some of the same abilities I do. I know that’s what you were wondering.”

  “That is what I’d like,” I said, smiling at Meadow as she skipped off to make a drink. “So she’s a natural for your restaurant, eh?”

  “She’s a good addition,” Emily agreed. “She’s better at sussing out people’s drink orders or what desserts they want. She’s not as intuitive with the savory orders.”

  “Sounds like she’ll be good for the team nonetheless,” Zelda agreed. “Plus she’s a cutie. Customers can’t help but like that.”

  Meadow placed my drink in front of me and I took a sip. I could see she was eager for me to render an opinion; she was wiggly and excitable as a puppy. “Mmmm. Good. It’s a bit different from what Emily makes for me, but I like it.”

  “Do you? I added just the tiniest extra smidge of vanilla to the cocoa, and dropped in three little orange marshmallows. I had a feeling you’d take to it.”

  “It is very good,” I agreed. “Thank you.” I fished a few dollars out of my pocket and handed them to the girl. “Keep the change.”

  “Thanks!” she returned to the till and waved goodbye to the last group of customers as they left the store, following them to the door and flipping the sign to closed before returning to the register and counting down the drawer.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll be coming along with you two,” Emily said as she rose and started to head to the back of the cafe. “Since I have a bit of extra help — and good help,” Emily said, inclining her head in Meadow’s direction, “I figure I’ll let Meadow finish up while I tag along. I like a good ghost walk.”

  “I have no problem with that,” I said, standing to put on my coat and gloves.

  The owner vanished into the back of her café.

  Zelda excused herself to use the restroom and I was alone with Meadow. “So how long have you been working for your aunt? I haven’t seen you in the mornings when I normally come in.”

  “A couple weeks,” she said. “I’ve mostly been helping in the afternoons when the rush slows down, until I get my bearings.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Oh, I love it. I like all the people who come in and it’s fun when they’re surprised I can guess what they want. Well, I’m not as good at choosing sandwiches and soups for them, but I’m good at the sweets part.”

  “Have you met my stepfather Tom?” I asked. I envisioned the girl’s head imploding at his approach as he thought about ordering two of every treat on the menu.

  “Um, I’m not sure. Oh, wait, he’s the guy who looks like a skinnier Santa Claus, right?”

  I nodded.

  “He wanted everything. When his wife — oh! That’s your mother, right? — caught on to what I could do, she told me to just bring him the first thing that came to mind going forward. He didn’t like that, but once he got a brownie — I put a bunch of whipped cream and some hot fudge on the side just for him — he was happy.”

  “That sounds like Tom,” I agreed. “So you have sweet, um, instincts, I guess?”

  She smiled. “I guess that’s a way to put it. I happen to love sweets myself, so maybe that’s why.” She patted her shirt pocket and I saw a wrapped lollipop inside.

  “Could be,” I nodded, smiling. “So what’s your favorite kind of sweet then?”

  “Mainly chocolate, but I love all things sweet. And not just food.”

  “Oh.” I wasn’t sure where she was going with this. “Do you mean, like pop? Wine? Like, you don’t like the taste of gin or beer?”

  “Not quite,” she smiled. “Though I don’t like gin or beer, but I mean I like anything sweet. Sweet gestures. Sweet people.”

  “Oh. Like people who are nice.”

  “I guess that’s how you’d see it, but I like — I mean really like — sweet people. Like when your mom and stepdad came in they brought that boy who works for them along. He is super sweet.” Her smile grew beatific and she sighed. “His name’s Jordan, right?”

  I nodded. “He’s, um, seeing someone though,” I said.

  “I know. He has a boyfriend, who is nice, but he’s not sweet. He’s more like Fiona who is a bit more salty or something.”

  “My mother has been referred to as salty more than once,” I laughed.

  “But Jordan is sweet,” she cooed. “I just adore him.” She trained her gaze to me and looked me up and down in an assessing manner. “You. You’re sweet, too.” A smile bloomed across her face and that was sweet, but it also had a sultry edge to it. I felt a twinge of surprise, almost delight, but it was more a sense of feeling flattered than any true desire.

  “Um, thank you,” I stammered.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You’re the kind of sweet I like, but Emily said you have a boyfriend. And I think you prefer men, too.”

  I shrugged, hoping I wasn’t starting to blush. “I guess I do.”

  “That’s okay,” she grinned. “Looking is free.” She gave a saucy wink and returned to her work when Emily and Zelda emerged from the back, bundling up.

  “Ready to go?” Zelda asked.

  I hoisted my cup in the air and gave a nod. “Let’s roll.”

  We waved goodbye to Meadow as she let us out and locked the door behind us.

  “Your niece is an interesting girl,” I said. “She’s … sweet.”

  Emily let out a raucous laugh. “I can see she hit on you.”

  I opened and closed my mouth in surprise. It wasn’t something I wanted to bring up especially in front of Zelda, and possibly not Emily either. That, “hey your 20-something niece just hit on me” line of conversation could not be anything but awkward.

  “Um … ,” I struggled to respond.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Emily said, patting my arm. “I knew she’d gravitate to you like a bee to honey.”

  “She also likes Jordan,” I added.

  “Oh, yes, she fluttered her lashes at him big time. I think he was flattered, but obviously that’s not going anywhere.”

  “Has she always been like that?�
� Zelda asked.

  “Yes. Ever since she was a young one, she gravitated toward people she deemed sweet. In a way it’s a good judge of character. If she senses a person is sweet, they’re good. If she picks up saltiness, they’re okay, but with an edge. Sours are acquired tastes. Bitters she keeps away from. I should add, since we all like to gossip, Wyatt came in the other day and promptly hit on her, but she showed zero interest even though he was laying on the charm. He walked away, defeated, and she just rolled her eyes at him. Said he had some sweet to him, but too much rotten was there, so he didn’t appeal to her.”

  “It’s good to know that she’s not swayed by his good looks and fast car,” I said.

  “Definitely not,” Emily agreed. “She likes pretty things, but there’d better be something good beneath the so-called frosting, too.”

  Zelda led us to the east, along a street that ran past the courthouse and near a small cemetery. I thought we were headed right to the graveyard, but instead Zelda motioned for us to follow her to the courthouse. It was a large Second Empire-style building with tall arched windows, topped by a tall dome.

  I’d always thought it looked like some elaborate gingerbread house, especially on this cold night as it was glazed with a bit of snow.

  Zelda paused when we reached one statue that stood near the sidewalk. It was of Romulus and Remus — the mythical founders of Rome — suckling a she-wolf.

  As I stood in the cold, my breath fogging in front of me, I realized I had no clue why our sleepy northern city had such a statue. Was it because we had a decent-size Italian population? Because of the wolves? I made a mental note to revisit that question at a later time.

  I looked up at the naked bronze boys angling their mouths under the full teats. “I hope they like iced milk,” I muttered mostly to myself.

  Emily chuckled. “It does somehow seem a bit sad to see them exposed to the elements, doesn’t it?”