“Sorry if I woke you,” he said. “I’m so clumsy these days, I tripped over my own feet.”
“No worries. I was awake. I just hadn’t bothered to get out of bed.”
“Well, go get dressed and I’ll mix up another batch,” Harvey offered, rinsing the sponge out. “I make a mean pancake if I do say so myself.”
Emily agreed, trying not to notice the new dishes piling up on the kitchen counter. Harvey had washed the ones from yesterday but left them stacked on the side to drain. Apparently, they’d been very wet because they were still there, waiting to be put away.
“I can see why his wife kicked him out,” Cynthia said with an arched eyebrow. “Your brother is a bit of a slob.”
“Get out,” Emily whispered, wishing she could slam a door in the ghost’s face. “I’m getting dressed.”
“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“You’re not making it any better.”
“Fine.” Cynthia tossed her hair from side to side, then floated out the door. She floated back in a few seconds later. “He’s spilled flour all over the floor. Do you want me to poltergeist him out of here?”
“I want you to go into the lounge until I’m ready to face the day,” Emily scolded.
“You mean, Harvey’s bedroom? No thanks.”
Emily tried to lift a t-shirt over her head but the protest from her arms overwhelmed her. It had been ages since she’d last done CPR and then only for practice. The real thing had used far more energy. Something she hadn’t truly appreciated at the time, with adrenaline flooding her veins.
A pity she couldn’t conjure up a new chemical rush—at least until she finished getting dressed.
“I can help you with that, you know.” Cynthia wrinkled her nose. “If I can throw plates at a wall, getting a shirt over your head will be dead easy.”
Emily had never wanted to turn down help more than she did right that second. Instead, she sighed and nodded. “Thank you.”
“My mother always thought I’d grow up to be a nurse,” Cynthia said as she arranged Emily’s clothing. “I don’t know why. Neither of us had a single caring bone in our bodies.”
“You’re cutting yourself short, there.” Emily touched the back of her hairbrush, then decided the world would cope fine with her tangled curls. “You cared for Gregory for a long time.”
“And Peanut,” Cynthia added, cooing as the cat walked straight through the door.
This time, when Emily walked into the kitchen, Harvey was finishing up with a batch of crispy pancakes.
“Grab a plate and I’ll load you up,” he said, waving his spatula. “I picked some lemons to squeeze over top and there’s sugar on the table.”
It had been so long since Emily ate anywhere except on the sofa—usually with the television blaring—that to sit at the dining table felt novel. She squeezed out half a lemon and then scattered sugar over the top, letting the crystals absorb and dissolve in the juice.
The previous night, she’d arrived home late—for her, anyway—after accompanying the bruised team members to the twenty-four-hour surgery to have a doctor check over their injuries. Terrence had been the least affected, despite his position at the bottom of the pile.
After a late night stop for decaf coffee and cake, Emily had staggered through the door, exhausted. She’d raised a hand to her brother as she walked past but didn’t allow herself to be pulled into a conversation.
In truth, she’d been disappointed to find him still awake. The back of her mind had held hopes he’d be asleep so she could sneak past him.
This morning, Emily didn’t have any more conversation at hand than the night before. The only real question she had for her brother was ‘how long are you staying?’ and she didn’t think that would receive a straight answer.
Their family had one thing in common—a high tolerance for avoiding any elephants in the room.
“That’s better,” Harvey said after a few mouthfuls. “Those biscuits didn’t work out very well yesterday, unfortunately. Good to know I haven’t lost all my skills.”
“I didn’t know you liked cooking,” Emily said, sitting back and lacing her hands across her belly. The morning sun streamed in through the window, tracing a line of warmth across her back.
“Mum used to let me bake things as a treat,” Harvey said, half-closing his eyes. “All I ever wanted to cook up was sweets and all she ever needed help with was our tea, so we compromised on biscuits and slices. You used to demolish my ginger crunch.”
“That was yours?” Emily remembered the thick ginger icing and the snap of the crispy base. Nowadays, what bakeries called ginger crunch was actually a slice, no crunch to be had at all. She’d given up buying it in disgust a few years before her accident, never certain if her memory was playing tricks on her and it was simply a matter of her tastebuds maturing.
“I could make some while I’m here if you still fancy it.”
“Yes, please,” Emily said, so quickly that they both laughed. “What did you get up to yesterday?”
“After pulling your garage apart, I didn’t do a lot. Most of the biscuits went in the bin, then I fell asleep on the couch while trying to decide what to watch on TV.” He shook his head, a dreamy expression on his face. “The town looks exactly the same as I remember. Just a few chain stores instead of the old single-owner places.”
Emily tilted her head to one side, remembering the row of old shops, each one named for the surname of the person who ran it. Or their parent or grandparent in cases where the business had been handed down the generations.
“Next thing you know, they’ll be putting in the golden arches.”
“I doubt it. You can see from the shape of the roof that the second-hand clothing store on Main Street used to be a KFC. Didn’t work out for them.”
“Thank goodness for small populations, eh?” Harvey gave her a wink, his favourite gesture from childhood. Emily couldn’t do that or roll her tongue. No wonder they’d both been adopted for use in any situation by her brother. Sibling rivalry alive and well.
“I’ve got to follow up on a few things today,” Emily said with a sigh, rotating her shoulders until they griped about even that small movement. “I’m trying to trace an item that sold at auction.” She frowned. “At least, I think that’s where it went.”
Harvey bent forward, hiding his face as he gathered up their dishes. “Can I take you out for a meal, tonight? I feel like I’ve barely seen you.”
“You’ve been here less than a day,” Emily pointed out, trying not to see the expression of disappointment on her brother’s face. “But sure. Unless something terrible happens, you can shout me some fish and chips or something.”
“Sounds good.” Harvey’s eyes brightened. “We can take them up to the beach and feed our leftovers to the seagulls.”
“If we see any.” Emily ducked her head down to hide a yawn. “They’re getting scarcer every year.”
“All the more reason to feed them the last of our chips, then.”
The auction house might have been closed for the weekend, but the real estate agency was well and truly open for business. The short walk to the town centre loosened up Emily’s shoulders enough for her to be able to raise her arms a short distance. Certainly, far enough to shake the realtor’s hand when he greeted her at the door.
“Looking for a new place already?” Bryant Majors asked with a grin. He’d sold Emily her house when she moved to Pinetar.
“Not for me,” she answered, then a listing caught her eye. “I wouldn’t mind taking a flyer with me though. My brother might be in the market for something.”
The small cottage listed appeared to be the same size as Emily’s, but with an extra bedroom and located at Pinetar Beach. She’d avoided that end of town, not wanting to spend her days vacuuming up sand, but judging from Harvey’s enthusiasm for eating there, he might not mind that particular effect.
“I can show you around the place this afternoon if you’re interested.�
� Bryant jerked his chin at the leaflet. “You’ve missed the open home yesterday, but the owner spends most of his time back in Christchurch so I can take you around any time.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Emily said with a nod, “but I’m actually after some information on a property rented through here.”
“For your brother?”
Emily tussled with her conscience for a short second, then shook her head. “No,” she admitted. “It’s more for curiosity’s sake.”
“It’s for a lot more than curiosity!” Wanda appeared out of thin air, indignation written over every inch of her face. “My sister’s life is at stake.”
“She can’t tell him that,” Cynthia retorted as she turned up on Emily’s other side, arms folded, and her mouth set in a thin line. “If you’re not going to teach me your magic at least do us the favour of using your head.”
“The flat is here,” Emily said, handing over her phone with the Street View image showing. “There’s a middle-aged couple in it now, but it used to be occupied by two sisters.”
“Oh, yes.” Bryant sucked air through his teeth. “I remember that. Nasty business. Still, the landlord was within his rights to do what he did.”
“What did he do?” Emily lost a short battle to keep a frown off her face.
“Well…” Bryant checked over Emily’s shoulder, then gestured her further inside the office. “They had a year-long lease and had already given him notice they wouldn’t renew when the accident happened.”
“I suppose that’s why it was re-let so quickly.”
“That, and he had a great real estate agent.”
Emily gave a giggle and waved at him to go on with his explanation.
“Since they’d given notice, the lease agreement said if they left any items in the house past the paid-up date, the landlord was entitled to put them into storage and pay for the facility using their bond.”
“Okay.” Emily pulled at her ear, staring at the ground in concentration as she worked out where Bryant was heading. “And when the bond money was used up?”
“Sold at auction.” He gave a long sigh. “As I said, it’s a nasty business. If that poor girl ever comes out of her coma, she’ll be starting all over again.”
“Did the landlord sell everything?”
Bryant shook his head. “Not him, the storage company. They had a few units with overdue fees and gave notice to the renters they’d sell off the contents to pay off the debt. I mean, I know it’s within the letter of the law to send a notice to the last-known address but when everybody in town knows the recipient is comatose in a hospital bed, it doesn’t sit right.”
“Everything went to auction.” Emily spoke the words as a statement, but Bryant nodded as though she’d put it to him as a question.
“Anything they can’t sell there, probably just went straight to the dump.”
Emily kept her gaze fixed on her shoes, not wanting to catch Wanda’s eye. Despite the difficulty of recovering goods if they’d been sold, Emily preferred that option to trawling through a mountain of waste at the local tip.
“Let me know,” Bryant said, tipping his head toward the flyer in Emily’s hand again. “The owner is quite desperate to sell that bach, so I could get your brother a good price.”
Just as Bryant said the words, a couple with two toddlers walked up to the window, browsing the selection of photos on display. Emily excused herself, escorting her two squabbling ghosts back home to fetch the car.
“Where are you going now?” Cynthia’s voice sounded as though Emily had personally insulted her somehow.
“To the auction house.”
“I thought it was closed.”
“It is.”
Still, she hoped there’d be somebody around to help out. If not, it gave her somewhere to sit and think without her brother hanging about.
Emily pulled into the car park but could see without walking up to the door that it was locked shut.
“Great idea,” Cynthia said with her trademark sneer. “Anywhere else you want to go today? Perhaps a bank?”
Wanda spoke up. “My group home mother used to say, if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”
“Words of wisdom.” Cynthia gave her a pained expression. “The long winter evenings must’ve just flown by.”
“Stop sniping at each other, will you? I need to think.”
Emily turned the car around, just in time for another vehicle to pull into the otherwise empty lot. She waited for a minute, then stopped the car when she saw her helper from a few days ago getting out.
“We’re not open,” Sean said as Emily approached him with a wave. “You’ll have to come back during the week.”
“I don’t have anything to sell,” Emily called out, closing the distance. “But there was a question I wanted to ask.”
The man gave a forlorn glance at the auction house door and Emily felt a pang of guilt. He’d probably just stopped by for a few minutes to make his job easier tomorrow. Now, here she was, taking advantage when he probably wasn’t even being paid for his time.
“What d’you need?”
“Just information about some storage items.” Emily pulled out the puzzle box and showed it to him. “Do you remember the lot this came in?”
“Sure.” Sean put out a finger to touch the varnished wood. “I remember you taking a fancy to it. Was there some problem with the sale? I know you didn’t win it in the bidding but payment’s final, you know.”
“No problem. I’ve just become aware there was a book that originally came along with this, but it wasn’t in the box of goods I saw at the auction. I wondered if it’d been sold to someone else.”
“Probably.” He folded his arms. “You can’t expect me to know what you’re talking about from that description. We sell a lot of books.”
She flicked a glance at Wanda, who nodded. “It’s leather-bound with a golden chain to keep it secured. It also had fancy metal corners and there was a circular design embedded in the leather on the front.”
Emily recited the information to Sean, who looked reluctantly tipped his head forward. “Yeah. I remember that one, but you’re too late. It sold on Friday, too.”
With a steadying hand on her stomach, Emily leaned forward, looking him straight in the eye. “It’s very important that I track down the owner. Are you able to tell me who it sold to?”
“Of course, not.” He took a step back, seemingly affronted. “That’s against our policy and probably not something we could legally disclose.”
“No. You have to tell us.” Wanda tried to grab the man’s arm, giving a frustrated huff as her hand sailed straight through his. “It’s my sister’s life on the line. Tell him!”
“Surely, it’s not a secret? These are open auctions. If I’d seen the bidding, I’d know who’d won it.”
“Yes.” Sean smiled. “If you’d seen the auction, you’d definitely know who won.”
Emily waited for a beat, but he didn’t follow it up with anything further.
“Can’t you do something?” Wanda turned to Cynthia, waving her arms. “Make him tell us. You can throw things about. Scare the life out of him until he tells us what we need to know.”
“You know what that’ll cost you,” Cynthia stated flatly. “It’s up to you.”
“Please, can’t you give me a hint.” Emily let the exhaustion and excitement of the day before wash over her until a tear slipped out from beneath her lashes. “I’m not going to do anything bad with the information. I just really need to find that book.”
Sean took another step back, fidgeting and throwing a longing glance towards the back door of the auction building. “I’m sorry,” he said after a minute of silence. “I really can’t tell you that the same man who originally won the bid on that item”—he jerked his chin toward the puzzle box—“also won the leather book you’re after.”
He strode away, not looking back. Emily was so surprised, he’d gone before she could t
hank him.
“What’s happening?” Wanda asked. “Do you know what he meant?”
As Sean let himself into the back door, Emily turned to the ghost. “Yes. I know. Now, it’s just a matter of finding him.”
Chapter Nine
Cynthia leaned forward from the back seat, perching her chin somewhere above Emily’s shoulder. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” she said in a sing-song tone. “You’re going to drive around town until you see the person you’re looking for?”
“He’s very distinctive.” Emily jerked her arm as though Cynthia was a physical thing she could shake off. “I’m sure he’ll stand out.”
“Is he so distinctive he can be seen even when he’s inside another car or a house?” She sighed. “You might want to think this through, Scarface.”
Wanda threw a dirty look in Cynthia’s direction. “Leave her alone. Unless you have a better idea, you’re adding nothing to the conversation.”
“My better idea would involve finding someone to give you a name, then getting his address from the white pages. Like a normal person.”
Emily turned a corner, slowing as she saw a sign indicating children were around the place. The back alleyway on her right-hand side must lead through to the primary school. Even though they wouldn’t be around on a weekend, she still slowed the car down to a crawl.
“It’s the first part of your plan I have a problem with,” Emily said once her driving no longer needed her full attention. “Where are we meant to find this person who knows the name of the man we’re looking for? Once you’ve got that sorted, try me again.”
Wanda laughed in glee and pulled a face. Cynthia turned her attention to the passenger window.
“Hey,” she said after a minute. “Isn’t that one of Gregory’s teammates?”
Emily glanced around, spying Terrence walking with slumped shoulders on the side of the road. She pulled up next to him, lowering the window as the car slowed and leaning over to call out through the passenger side, “Do you need a lift?”
Miss Hawthorne Sits for a Spell Page 6