by Angie Fox
“I’m okay,” I said, replacing the phone in its cradle. “Let’s go.”
I could do nothing more about Ellis tonight. Except pray that I didn’t run into him.
Chapter Fourteen
“So are we going to have to break in anywhere tonight?” I asked, steering the land yacht away from the house.
All things being equal, I’d rather not be arrested by my boyfriend.
Frankie sat with his arms folded over his chest, brooding. It wasn’t my fault it had taken thirty minutes to dig Lucy out from under the porch before we left.
I didn’t want her wandering outside after dark.
“How am I supposed to know when the theater building is open?” the ghost snipped. “Or what’s there now?”
Oh, please. “Perhaps you could—I don’t know—pay attention? You’ve been hanging around Sugarland for about a century.”
“Doesn’t mean I’ve been to the movies lately,” Frankie countered, slinking down in his seat.
“Well, it might be nice to take Molly sometime,” I suggested.
“I do fine with Molly,” he retorted.
Probably because he didn’t show her that attitude. I changed the subject. “What do I need to know about Wally Big Ears?”
That perked him up. “Technically, Wally is affiliated with the Irish mob,” Frankie said as if it were a major liability. “However, he’s not beholden to them anymore.”
I’d had no idea mob life could be so complicated. “Why’s that?”
Frankie shrugged. “He seems to be leveraging his information well.”
“Interesting guy,” I mused.
We trundled past a series of tidy bungalows that lined the road on what had once been my family’s land. A parked car flipped on its headlights and pulled out behind us.
“Head downtown,” Frankie ordered. He leaned back, making himself comfortable. “You see, Wally deals in information. It gives him the freedom to do what he wants. And it allows him to make a very comfortable living.”
Wait. “Are we going to have to bribe him?” I asked, glancing at my ghost. Frankie and I never discussed his financial situation, but I definitely didn’t want a repeat of last night’s holdup.
Perhaps Ellis was right—to a degree. This could be getting out of hand.
“No bribes,” Frankie said, waving me off. “I don’t have enough money. And even if I did, you’re the one talking for me. It’s not like I could hand you a suitcase of cash to do my business.”
“Wally wouldn’t be happy if it disappeared,” I agreed.
“Instead, you’re going to charm him,” Frankie concluded. “You know, like you do with all the ghosts.”
“Like I do with you,” I scoffed. Amazing how he just expected me to turn it on.
“I’m immune,” he said. “Frankly, I don’t get your appeal at all.”
“This is a heck of a pep talk,” I said, turning left onto the road leading to the highway. The car behind me followed.
His brights flashed in my rearview mirror. Most of my neighbors were more courteous. And they usually didn’t follow so close.
I didn’t find it terribly concerning, not really. Okay, maybe it set off a few bells. But still, it was perfectly logical for a driver to want to take the highway.
“Why are you getting squirrely?” Frankie asked, eyes narrowing.
“There’s a car on our tail. It’s probably nothing.”
“Speed up,” he ordered.
“I—” I hesitated.
“Try it,” he coaxed. “I’m curious.”
He was the gangster. A true expert in being followed and getting away.
I hit the gas and switched lanes.
The car behind me lurched into my new lane and sped up to catch me.
“Holy smokes.” I gripped the wheel tighter.
Frankie grinned. “Oh, he wants to play.”
“No. I don’t care if he wants to play. I don’t want to play. Not even a little,” I said, trying to discern what kind of car it was. I could only make out headlights and a big dark shadow. The lights sat too wide to be Ellis’s police cruiser. I knew that for a fact. Ellis had pulled me over more times than I could count.
Frankie braced a hand on the bench seat and twisted to look behind us. “Gun it,” he ordered.
“I don’t like to speed,” I warned, hitting the gas.
Our tail easily closed the gap between us. He was definitely following us.
Ellis’s Jeep sat too high. These lights were low. Maybe a sports car? I didn’t know who it could be. I mean, I’d been making progress on Jorie’s case, but I still had a lot to learn. I couldn’t have caught anybody’s attention yet.
Or had I discovered the key to the mystery and I just didn’t know it?
Think.
If Fiera wanted to get me, she’d show up under the guise of friendship and I’d let her right into my kitchen. Same with MayBelle.
I really had to rethink my open-door policy.
Pastor Bob couldn’t walk well, so it was hard to imagine him speeding around in a low-profile car. Although the man who had almost killed me last year boasted a similar alibi.
Pastor Mike was having me over tomorrow, so he could have simply waited for me to come to him.
It didn’t make sense.
“That’s not a ghost car back there,” I said, voice shaking.
“That’s a real one,” Frankie agreed, with way too much relish. “Pull off here.”
I did. I didn’t even question it. Frankie had been in more car chases than I could count, and he was a seasoned killer to boot. He knew how they thought. How they stalked their prey. “Why are we pulling off the highway?” I asked, taking the exit that led onto a darkened road.
“This is the way to the theater,” Frankie said as if it were obvious.
“What?” I choked. He was right. We were headed directly toward town. “Why on earth would we want to lead them to the very place we’re going?”
“Town is crowded. We’ll do fine,” Frankie insisted. “Plus, there’s no way I’m letting you stall again.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake. “For your information, downtown clears out after dinner.”
“Huh,” he said, surprised. “The dead are out all the time.”
“You’re putting me in danger,” I insisted as the road opened up onto the beginnings of Main Street.
“You missed a stop sign,” Frankie said as we whizzed past.
“So now you care about the law,” I said, wincing. My stomach dropped when the car behind me blew past the sign as well. “I need to drive straight to the police station,” I vowed. “I need to park outside and call Ellis.”
“Oh, yeah, because that’s the way to convince him ghost hunting is a swell idea,” Frankie shot back.
“Well, it’s better than getting hurt.” I’d told the truth when I said I didn’t take unnecessary chances. I wasn’t going to stand on principle or my pride.
We were coming up on the library and town square. I must have taken more time than I’d realized with Lucy because it was all dark. Closed.
Not good.
I was just about to make the turn onto Fifth Street and toward the police station, manhunt be damned, when the car behind me pulled out into the oncoming lane next to me.
“He’s going to be hit!” I exclaimed.
“There’s no traffic,” Frankie countered.
“Still.” My hands sweat and my heart hammered as a big black Mercedes drew parallel to me. I braced myself. If he had a gun, I would hit the brake and honk my horn and then drive over the grass toward the town square and the library. I gulped, gathered the nerve to look over, and saw Ellis’s brother Beau, my ex-fiancé, waving at me.
I hit the brakes in shock.
Frankie flew straight through the window, which was fine. He’d be fine.
I was fine.
What the hell was Beau thinking?
The red brake lights on the Mercedes flashed, and then I watched, stunned, a
s Beau put it in reverse and backed up next to me.
He rolled down his window, grinning. “You’re a hard one to catch.”
“You—” I cranked down my window frantically. “You scared me to death!”
His broad smile went flat and his good humor vanished. “Ellis said you were in trouble.”
Unbelievable. “Ellis sent you to watch over me?” His pesky, entitled, clueless brother who would only delay my investigation and drive me crazy.
Ellis really did have it out for me.
Beau ran a hand through his tousled blond locks. “I’m here to help,” he said cheerfully.
Yes, he’d be about as helpful as a porcupine in a balloon factory. I’d never expected Ellis to stoop so low. “Go home,” I ordered. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
“Yes, it does. I need to keep you on the straight and narrow,” he said, like a deranged Dudley Do-Right.
“Nope. No way. Absolutely not.” I planted my forehead on my steering wheel. “What do I have to say to get you to leave?”
A car honked behind me.
“Traffic,” Beau announced.
“I cannot stress enough how much I do not want you here,” I said, giving a “sorry” wave to the irate couple behind me. They must think I was a crazy person. Loony Verity out “ghostbusting” again—doesn’t even realize she’s having a conversation smack-dab in the middle of the street.
It wasn’t like anyone could mistake the girl in the 1978 avocado green Cadillac.
“We’d make a great team,” Beau called as I pulled out.
No. And shame on Ellis for suggesting it. It was clinically insane for my boyfriend to send my ex-fiancé to babysit me while I talked to a mobster in the haunted theater.
It was also invasive, disrespectful, and a real dick move.
“I’m okay, by the way,” Frankie said. I wasn’t sure when he’d reappeared in my passenger seat, but he’d made it back.
“Sorry, Frank.”
“Don’t call me Frank,” he said.
I watched as Beau began to follow me again. Dang the man. “I’m just distracted.”
“Less talking, more driving,” Frankie said. “You are not going to blow my shot at Wally Big Ears over trouble with your love life.”
“Well, we can’t go to the theater now with Beau on our tail,” I said, gripping the wheel.
“I don’t care if we lead a marching band in there,” Frankie said. “Wally don’t haunt the movies full time. We can get him tonight. This is our shot, and we’re going.”
“What is the grand and elusive Wally Big Ears going to think when we walk in there with Beau?” My ex didn’t understand subtle. In fact, he was the kind of guy who’d been born on third base and thought he’d hit a triple. Beau said what he thought, went where he wanted. He skated through life on his charm and his looks, and he could get us into real trouble.
“You can keep him in line,” Frankie stated as if he’d never met the man.
Beau was not a force to be contained. We’d once struck a wobbly truce during a particularly harrowing moment on a haunted train. He’d agreed to stop pursuing me, and I’d agreed to put up with him for Ellis’s sake.
But tonight? At best, he’d be in the way. At worst—and I expected the worst—he could trigger a deadly confrontation.
“Here,” Frankie said, directing me to the Sugarland Players Community Theater right off Main Street. “This is the place.”
“For real?” I asked. That was one bit of good news. The Sugarland Players held Sunday evening performances, so the building would be open. I wouldn’t have to break in anywhere tonight.
“You know, I saw Godspell here,” I said, my mood improving as I took in the scrolling stonework over tan brick and the marquee jutting from the old building. “It was a fine show. A little confusing with forty apostles, but the director at the time must have realized that the bigger the cast, the more friends and relatives who’ll buy a ticket.”
“Your town is weird,” Frankie said as I parked in front and cut the engine.
“It’s your town, too,” I reminded him, pleased to spot a ticket taker at the booth.
I was less happy to see so much available parking outside. The marquee advertised an 8:00 p.m. performance of Sugar Town, an original musical. That sounded lovely, although it would be well underway by now, and we were practically the only ones there.
“Poor actors.” I’d heard they had a new director. He must not understand the “friends and family” rule.
“Poor me,” Frankie said, making a quick check of his leg knife. “I think I went gray getting you here.”
“You’re always gray,” I reminded him.
Beau pulled in behind us, right up to the edge of my bumper, and my good humor disappeared.
“I’m going to end this right now,” I said, shoving open the door.
“Not until you talk to Wally,” Frankie called after me. I heard him curse as I slammed the door behind me.
Beau leaned against his car, smiling.
“Tell Ellis I don’t need you to babysit me,” I said. “The theater’s open. I’m not doing anything illegal.”
Beau pretended he hadn’t heard me. “Remember our third date?” he asked brightly.
I turned and began walking toward the theater.
Beau rushed to join me. “We saw A Chorus Line,” he said to the empty air next to me as if he could pick a spot and expect Frankie to be there.
Half the time even I didn’t know where Frankie was.
“You haven’t lived until you’ve seen Mrs. Proctor’s entire dance studio on stage at once.” Beau laughed.
I turned to him. “They were adorable and talented, and they drew a crowd,” I said, not happy with his insinuation that the kids couldn’t hack it.
“Mrs. Morris’s hearing aid kept whistling near the speaker,” he continued, “and then it fell out during her one dance number, sending all those kids scrambling for it on stage.”
Mrs. Morris had made a fine lead dancer. She did better than I could. It wasn’t her fault the kids were overly enthusiastic. “Now that you know I’m here and I’m safe, you can leave,” I told him.
Beau at least had the grace to appear chagrined. “Look.” He raised a hand. “I promise I won’t get in the way. I can be an extra set of hands. Let me do this for you.”
I didn’t understand why he thought I needed an extra set of hands. We weren’t building a barn.
I took a deep breath.
He grabbed a program from a stack at the ticket window and began to flip through it. “Besides, you know I love to patronize the arts.”
“I’ll shoot him myself if it’ll get you moving,” Frankie said, waiting for us at the entrance.
If only it were that simple.
“I’m coming,” I assured the ghost. Although I’d need a ticket first.
“Two, please,” Beau said, beating me to it.
“Maybe just graze him,” I said to Frankie.
Either way, it was official; my ex was now my babysitter.
Chapter Fifteen
The ticket taker sold Beau two tickets, ripped them in half, and gave us a schedule of upcoming events. “Enjoy the show.”
“We will,” Beau said, handing me a program.
I wondered if I could smother him with it.
Beau opened the physical door and I walked in ahead of him.
Gilded frames built into the wall housed show posters from past performances. Gold paint chipped off at the corners, exposing grayed wood cracked with age. On each side of the lobby, a staircase with a gold railing wound up to the second floor.
“I’ll bet this was a beauty back in the day,” I murmured, detecting the faint smell of dust and popcorn.
“Yeah,” Frankie said, gliding ahead of us. “I remember when this theater opened for Christmas of 1926. They had ushers with gold buttons on their jackets and spiffy hats. Christmas trees in the lobby. The place glittered like a palace.”
&
nbsp; That sounded lovely. “Want to tune me in?”
I took in the red carpet, the gold ceilings. And this was the earthly side of things. No doubt it was even fancier on the other side.
Frankie hesitated.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, on immediate alert. Frankie jiggled his left leg, and I realized his foot had gone missing. “You’re losing power?” That was impossible. “You haven’t given me any yet.”
“This thing with Lou is really getting to me,” he said, stiffening. “I don’t have juice to spare.”
“We’ll take it easy,” I promised him. “Only turn me on when you need to.”
“I can’t believe I’m on a ghost-hunting adventure,” Beau declared.
“You and me both, buddy.” He was making it hard for me to forget he was there.
The lobby stood empty. There was no usher, just a “take one” table with local coupons and flyers advertising future shows. Frankie stood in front of it, fuming. “Am I going to have to separate you two?”
“Please.” Too bad Frankie was big on ideas and bad on the follow-through.
“This place might not be as safe as you think,” Beau said, his hand passing through Frankie to take a flyer.
“Watch it!” Frankie said, taking a quick step back through the table.
“My landscaper does maintenance for this building, and he said to beware of the ghost who haunts the old projector room,” Beau said, tossing the flyer back on the table and glancing toward the stairs to the second floor.
“Morty Levinson,” Frankie said, brushing himself off, clearly squicked out by Beau’s touch. “He built this place. Ran the projector for years. Swell guy. Kept his hands to himself.”
Beau looked both ways as if Morty was going to come rushing down one of the staircases. “This past winter, a big light fell down onto the stage and almost killed an actor. You see, they angered the ghost,” he whispered, drawing nearer than I preferred. “It was right after they unlocked the old projection room.”
I’d heard that story, too. “Lauralee said it was an accident caused by a faulty rope, not a ghost.”
You couldn’t blame everything on the deceased residents of Sugarland.