Renovation

by Alexie Aaron

  Angelo got into the vehicle and looked at his watch. “We should just about make it, but perhaps give your mother a call and say we are on our way,” he suggested. “It never is a good thing to worry one’s mama.”

  ~

  Brenda looked at her son from across the table. The trip with Angelo to Chicago hadn’t done him any harm. If anything, it seemed to have revived his spirit. There was color in Ira’s cheeks. He no longer resembled an invalid. He looked more like an athlete.

  “Mother, while I was at Angelo’s, an herbalist was there. Angelo asked to have my legs looked at as a courtesy. The herbalist recommended that I continue with physical therapy and at night rub this salve,” Ira paused as he handed his mother the piece of paper before continuing, “on my legs. The herbalist thinks there is a strong possibility I could get some movement back in my legs.”

  Brenda couldn’t help the tears that pooled in her eyes. Her Inky had quit therapy and had given up on walking. An afternoon with the Italian, and now he was fighting again. She scanned the list and saw that Ira had circled fennel root. “Fennel root?”

  “I don’t know where we can get it from. I’ll look it up on the computer.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t have to. Whole Foods will have it or possibly Miller’s Market. I’ll go out right after your father gets home.”

  “Where is Dad anyway?”

  “Problems at work. He asked me to put his meal on the back burner.”

  “Why do they always make Dad stay?” Ira asked. “Is it because he’s the only Jew there?”

  “Inky!” Brenda scolded. “They asked him because he’s the smartest. Don’t overthink the situation. They’ve been very fair with your father.”

  “Sorry, Mom, too much television.”

  Brenda smiled and picked up the empty plate from in front of her son. She decided not to tell him that her husband’s bosses had allowed him to set his own schedule in order for him to spend the most time with his son. Many days, Albert didn’t even come in. He was repaying their loyalty with the sweat of his brow. They said he didn’t have to, but Albert was a proud man. He would be taking on extra hours until he felt the debt was paid.

  “So tell me about this herbalist. Was she a looker?”

  Ira blushed. “How did you know it was a woman?”

  “Easy, Watson,” Brenda said, holding up the paper. “Not many men dot their I’s with hearts. If you’re going to hang with Sherlock Levisohn, you’re going to have to be more observant,” she teased.

  Ira hated lying to his mother. He equivocated in order to not tell a direct lie, but there were things that Angelo asked him not to share with his mother. If he felt the need to discuss things, Angelo asked him to contact Mia. She’d been to the clinic and would be able to explain the treatment he received more fully.

  “Mom, you don’t have to go tonight. Tomorrow will be fine.”

  “Nonsense, I’m curious at how all of these ingredients are going to smell together, let alone whether or not they are going to work. I better put on a good smelly soap for you to use in the morning or your classmates will stop calling you Inky and call you Stinky instead!”

  ~

  “I take it your trip was successful,” the driver said through the intercom.

  “I’ve been given more time. Ira’s story convinced Constantino that there was at least a slight possibility that Paolo was trapped in another dimension. Now, I just have to find Paolo and bring him home.”

  “Where to next?”

  “If I don’t hear from Komal soon, I will have to go to Haiti and address the judge there. If so, I’m going to have to convince Mia to go with me. He likes Mia as much as he dislikes me.”

  “Until then?”

  “Take me home,” Angelo said and leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

  The driver pulled into traffic and was soon entering I 55 heading north to Chicago.

  ~

  Mike woke up in a world of hurt. His jaw alternated between shooting and throbbing pain. To say it was a ten out of ten on the pain scale would have been an understatement. Not only was the jaw bruised but also out of alignment. It would take two operations to realign it and a few months to recuperate. No solid food and no talking beyond the slurred words uttered from behind the wired jaw were allowed.

  Audrey was holding his hand when he regained consciousness. She held it until the morphine drip was adjusted, giving him some relief.

  “Your mother is on her way,” she explained. “I, or one of the others, will stay with you 24/7 until she arrives.”

  Mike shook his head.

  “It’s really no trouble,” Audrey said.

  He wasn’t shaking his head about the PEEPs involvement, it was his mother coming to take care of him.

  “That was some punch that goon landed. Mia shot part of his head off and then gave him a gut blast he won’t soon forget. I wonder who they are, and why are they being such pigs?”

  “Who’s being a pig?” Burt asked from the doorway.

  “The ghosts in the Malone house,” Audrey explained. “If Mia hadn’t shown up, I think I would have been violated.”

  “Surely you’re exaggerating,” Burt said.

  Mike closed his eyes, waiting for Audrey’s reply.

  “Check the tape, and then we’ll talk about exaggeration, Mr. Hicks,” she said icily. Audrey got to her feet, walked over and planted a kiss on Mike’s forehead. “I’ll be back to see you. Don’t pinch the nurses; they control the juice,” she said, tapping the morphine.

  Mike nodded. He raised his hand as he watched the perky investigator walk out of the room. He narrowed his eyes and stared at Burt. He managed to hiss what sounded like the word, ass.

  “What?” Burt asked. “If you coddle the girl, she’s going to be a weak investigator.”

  Mike shook his head and sighed.

  “I stopped by the haunt. Mia has closed down the house and refuses to reopen it until Audrey has time to research the building and we get more help. I suppose Murphy is what she has in mind, but I was thinking about hiring a few younger investigators. We’ll attract a younger demographic, I’m thinking.”

  What Mike tried to say was, “You’ll get them killed.” What came out was, “Blsppbid.” He motioned for Burt to get a pad of paper and a pencil.

  Burt reached into his pocket and came up with a memo pad that had seen better years and a pencil stub from the Chiefs Putt Putt Golf Course. He handed them to Mike.

  Mike looked at the materials and wondered when his friend had become such a cheap bastard. He wrote down a few sentences and handed it to Burt.

  No inexperienced investigators.

  Hire me a nurse. Send Ma back to Kansas.

  Put Mia in charge of the Malone investigation.

  Burt looked at him and shook his head. “First of all, Mia’s a lousy manager. She suggested that Cid step in for you until you’re on your feet again. I’ll do your part. What was she thinking?”

  Mike looked at his arrogant friend, and even though Burt was attractive, he was lazy about his appearance, currently sporting a twelve dollar haircut. The shirt he wore had a few missing buttons, and the ones that were there, were sewn on poorly. Burt’s constant thirty extra pounds had eased quickly into fifty. And even though he was spry enough to still investigate, he didn’t film well. Mike motioned for the paper again.

  Cid can do my job. He’ll help the demographic.

  You can manage the investigation if you head my mother off before she arrives.

  “A compromise?” Burt asked, lifting an eyebrow.

  “Who’s compromising what?” a gruff voice asked from the doorway.

  Burt spun around to see standing there, suited in an expensive version of the PEEPs sweats, was Mike’s mother Glenda Dupree. She had her hair cut into a Judy Dench style pixie, and Burt suspected her seventyish face had been tucked.

  “Just what are you gaping at, Burt Hicks? Can’t a woman have a little work done? What’s all that money
for, except to make this old gal happy in my declining years?”

  “Gildeow,” Mike said.

  “Kill you now?” Glenda asked. “Why, I’ve come bearing gifts. Susan, come in here and meet my son the ghost hunter.”

  If Mike’s jaw wasn’t wired shut, it would have dropped open at the sight of the uniformed, curvaceous woman that walked into the room carrying a large basket of massage creams, white boards and a new eReader.

  “This is Susan Crane. She’s a registered nurse who specializes in massage therapy. Evidently, when facial pain is constant, the rest of your body is massaged to distract the pain sensors. She’s going to be taking care of you.”

  “Mmmm.”

  “Me? Oh, Mia called. She said I was needed at the investigation. Burt, if you hop to it, you can catch a ride with me. Otherwise, I’ll see you at the Malone house.” She walked up and kissed her son on the forehead. “Take your time healing, Mikey. Mama’s in for a good time.” She turned around and walked smartly out of the room.

  Mike’s eyes were dancing, and Burt was lost for words. Mike scribbled fast on the small white board Susan handed him from the basket.

  I’d say you were outmaneuvered. And before you toss Ma out, remember she’s been keeping our heads above water. She controls the spice. “The spice must flow.”

  “You’ve played the Dune card,” Burt said. “All I did was go out and rent a power saw. I came back to find out that you’re in the hospital, and Mia’s in charge. Oh, I know better than to change the status quo now that Glenda is on the premises. I surrender.” Burt took one last look at Mike, who was being disrobed for a massage, before leaving the room. He knew he’d find no ally there, so he shut the door behind him and headed for the elevator.

  “Well, if it isn’t Burt Hicks,” Beverly Cooper said, stepping out of the elevator. She held out her hand to Burt as if she were royalty. “Mia called. Said everything would be forgiven, and she’d release some of mother’s money if I joined you PEEPs at the Ronald McDonald’s house… No, that can’t be right…”

  “Ronald Malone. The owner’s name is Malone,” Burt corrected.

  “Yes, that’s it. I’m just going to give my regards to Dupree before I head over. I’ll see you there. Oh, Mia would like you to pick up some snacks. Now don’t be stingy; I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”

  ~

  Mia rang the bell and waited for Murphy and Maggie to come down off the hillside. The dog bounded over the spring grasses and through the early berry plants. She arrived mottled but happy. Mia hugged her tight. “Good girl. Guess what? We’re all going on a ghost hunt. It’s time for you to earn your stripes, Maggie Mae.”

  “Me too?” Murphy asked.

  “You too. I’ve put myself in charge, a small but clever maneuver, and I need the best of the best at my side.”

  Murphy looked around him.

  “That’s you, booger. Come out and play. I can promise you danger, mischief and mayhem, and that’s just for a start. We’re going to do this investigation my way. It may not be right, but it’s going to be fun,” she promised. “Are you in?”

  Murphy smiled a very wicked smile. Oh, he was in alright.

  Chapter Eight

  Audrey was balancing a stack full of historical reference materials and winding her way in between PEEPs parked vehicles when a rather good-looking man approached her.

  “Miss, may I have a word?” he asked, stepping forward to grab some of the sliding pamphlets and journals.

  “Thank you, you’re a lifesaver,” Audrey said, accepting his help. “You can have six words.”

  “Gee, I’ll have to plan carefully,” he said.

  “That was your six,” Audrey teased. “Although, I did let the contraction slide.”

  “How generous,” he countered. “I’m Matt Bainbridge. I live in 1303, down the street.”

  Audrey turned and looked in the direction he was pointing.

  “It’s the renovated Victorian with the hunter green shutters.”

  “Nice house,” Audrey said, waiting patiently for the homeowner to come to the point.

  “I couldn’t help noticing that you’re ghost hunters,” he hedged.

  “That’s pretty obvious,” Audrey said, patting the side of the command vehicle where the new PEEPs logo, depicting a ghost being chased by three yellow chicks, reset into a stylized circle, was painted. “Are you having problems of the paranormal kind?” she asked sweetly.

  “No, I mean, yes. Our house has been in the family for years. We’ve been aware that we aren’t exactly alone in the house, but nothing untoward has happened so far…”

  “Until now,” Audrey finished.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s my understanding that when a location has major goings-on, such as what is going on here, there may be a bleed off of activity to the houses surrounding it.”

  “Phew! I didn’t know what to think. Great Uncle Simon hasn’t stopped stomping around the attic since the Malones started their renovation. Day and night, he paces.”

  “Do you want me to send an investigator over to speak… er… investigate?” she asked, fearing she’d let the cat out of the bag. It must have been the blue eyes that looked down into hers that had her spilling secrets. Or was it the gray-tinged sideburns that only made the dark-haired man more handsome?

  “You can speak to Uncle Simon?”

  “Not I, but I know someone that may be able to converse with your relative.”

  His face lit up, and as his perfect-toothed smile filled his face, Audrey fell in love. Or was it lust? All she knew was that there was heat where there should only have been blue jean. Her eyes darted to his left hand. No ring. But many men didn’t wear their wedding rings. Gay, he could be gay and in a relationship. He was immaculately dressed. All these observations flooded her brain. She winced as a migraine started to rear its ugly head.

  “Are you alright?” he asked concerned.

  “Migraine,” she said.

  “Just so happens that I’m not only a nosy neighbor but a physician. How about you drop off your materials, and let me take a look at you?”

  “Are you really asking me to play doctor/patient with you?” Audrey squeaked.

  Matt looked confused. “I’m really a doctor, a pediatrician actually,” he explained. “But I assure you, I didn’t sleep through neurology.”

  “I’m not… crap, I mean…”

  “What the lady’s trying to explain is that you’re too good to be true,” a sultry female voice stated.

  Audrey turned around to see Beverly Cooper standing behind them. She winked at Audrey as if to say, I’ve got this.

  “First things first. Are you married?” Bev asked Matt.

  “Yes, no, divorced,” Matt answered.

  “Something wrong with you?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You see, you’re a doctor, a kid’s doctor but a doctor. You’re god’s gift to womankind, and by the size of your… ah… home, you’ve got a few bucks in your pocket.”

  Matt was a bit uncomfortable with the older woman sizing him up. “I was just trying to help the young woman out…”

  “Come on,” Bev lifted an eyebrow and said, “Spill it.”

  “Okay, I wanted to make her acquaintance,” he admitted.

  “So is there really an Uncle Simon or did you make that up?” Audrey asked.

  “Yes, there really is the ghost of my great uncle pacing in my attic. I’m recently divorced, and I guess a boob at meeting new people, especially pretty women.”

  Audrey blushed.

  “Fine, then hand me those,” Bev instructed. “And be home before the street lights go on. Now scoot!”

  Audrey did as she was told. “I’m Audrey McCarthy,” she said, reaching her hand out.

  Matt clasped it in his. “Nice to meet you. Now if you’ll follow me, I’ll take a look at your… your head.”

  Bev watched the couple walk away and shook her head. “Amateurs,” she said.

>   “And you’re a professional?” Glenda Dupree asked the blonde bombshell.

  “At flirting, yes,” Bev confessed. “I have a few years under my belt.”

  “Oh, I’d say you’ve been under a few belts for more than a few years,” Glenda contradicted.

  “You mean old bitch,” Bev spat.

  “You oversexed slut,” Glenda fired back.

  “Well, now that you’ve been introduced…” Mia said, rounding the corner of the truck. “Aunt Bev, this is Mike’s mother Glenda.”

  “He looks like you. Under that recent chin lift is the face of our fallen hero,” Bev observed.

  “Thank you, and my cosmetic surgeon thanks you,” Glenda said smiling.

  “Anyone see Audrey?” Mia asked.

  Bev hefted the pile of papers into Mia’s arms before speaking, “She’s headed over to 1303 to canoodle with Doctor Nice Ass.”

  “Cute?” Mia asked.

  “Handsome, vulnerable, ripe for the picking,” Bev described.

  “K. I was hoping to have a meeting…” Mia stopped speaking as a giant motorhome pulled into the cul-de-sac. “What the hell is that?”

  Bev hunched her shoulders. “Don’t look at me. I’m broke. That’s why I’m here.”

  “That’s my doing,” Glenda admitted. “You can’t expect me to camp out, not with my old bones.”

  “Who’s driving?”

  “That would be the butler. He comes with the vehicle. He’s in charge of keeping the drinks flowing afterhours and the refrigerator filled.”

  “You sure like burning through your son’s inheritance,” Bev observed. “But in a classy way.”

  Mia left the two women to become acquainted with the traveling spa. She climbed into the back of the truck. “I have a feeling I’m over my head here,” she grumbled. Mia set down the research materials and took a seat next to her husband.

  Ted looked up from the keyboard and looked outside at the large white recreational vehicle. He whistled. “That ours?”

  “Nope, not even Bev’s. Glenda has hired it. It comes with a man.”