by Nic Saint
“Oh, I know guys talk,” I said. But about what? I had to tell Fee to lean on Rick not to divulge anything weird. Then a thought struck me. “Did he tell you about Reece?”
“Um…”
“He did, didn’t he? What did he tell you?”
“Just… stuff. Like, that you guys were engaged to be married. And then Reece dropped the ball and… disappeared.”
“Rick shouldn’t have told you. That’s all very personal.”
“Hey, I’m the one who asked him,” Rock said.
“You were?”
“Yup. I want to get to know you, Alice.”
“Then ask me. Don’t go behind my back and pump my friends for information.”
“That’s not what this was and you know it.”
I guess I did. I was just in a bad mood all of a sudden. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
The chickens clucked some more, and I was suddenly reminded of my plan to get that diary of mine back. “Why don’t we go inside?” I suggested. “Help Mom wash up.”
“I’ll take care of that,” he said, as I’d hoped he would. “You just relax. You’ve been through enough today.”
I gave him a wan smile. “Thanks, Rock. You’re a great guy.”
He returned my smile, but when he tried to pull me into a hug, I ducked beneath his arms and jogged back to the house. “Better start cozying up to those chickens,” I called out. “We want to see eggs, Rock, not just talk!”
“You got it,” he said with a lazy grin. “Hey, and Alice?”
“What?”
“Next time you’re not getting away so easy.”
Oh, boy. Was that a threat or a promise? Either way, I hoped he kept it. In the kitchen, Mom had already started on the dishes, while Dad was moping in the living room, studying Raising Chickens for Dummies, which had become his constant companion. I quickly mounted the stairs two at a time, turned left on the landing, and found myself in my old room. Now where could Rock have hidden that diary?
Chapter 21
Before the detective had moved in, Mom and I had moved all of my stuff out, Dad had repapered the walls from their previous pink Cupid motif to a studly plain beige, and Mom and I had gone on a minor shopping spree in IKEA to get Rock the bed, dresser, desk, chair and closet he needed. We’d even gotten him a nice new ceiling lamp to replace my Dora the Explorer one that was my faithful companion all through my teens.
I quickly opened the drawers in the dresser, rummaged through the closet, checked the desk drawers, peeked under the bed, and even took a closer look under his pillow. Nothing. And that’s when my eye fell on a brown leather satchel that sat against the desk. I snatched it up and flipped through the compartments. I halted my search when I found… a camera. Odd. Why would he need a camera? And I was just about to see what footage he’d filmed when the door crept open and Rock stood in the doorway.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.
When under attack, the best defense is a counterattack, Rick once told me, so I held up the camera, and said, “Why have you been filming me… Venganza Mierda?”
“What? You can’t possibly think I had something to do with that.”
“Why not? You have been stalking me lately. Showing up wherever I go.” Kissing me. “Even in my own home I’m not safe from your… stalking ways!”
“This is crazy,” he said, drawing his hands through his hair. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m dead serious. Why else would we keep running into each other?”
“Because I’m a cop and you’re the leader of that… watch… thing!”
“And as the leader of the watch I need to know what you’re up to.”
“I’m up to nothing!” He snatched the camera from my fingers and fired it up. “Look!” I looked. There was footage of my dad’s chickens. My mom washing dishes. A man I’d never before seen chopping wood. “My dad,” he commented. Next up were some ladies on the beach, laughing and posing for the camera. Then Rock hove into view and posed with them, while a male voice said, ‘Looking good, buddy!’ “My dad again,” he said, a little nervously. “And three of my cousins. Maybe you don’t have to see this.”
“Oh, but I do have to see this,” I said. I studied the women in the video. They were gorgeous. Like, photo model gorgeous. “How many cousins do you have?”
“Seven.”
“And do they all look like photo models?”
“Pretty much.”
Next up was a little boy playing in the sand, building a sand castle on the beach. “Is he also related to you?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t say that this was his son and one of those ‘cousins’ was actually his wife.
He smiled. “Yeah, he’s my cousin’s kid.”
“You’ve got a big family.”
“Yup. Sure do.”
Which was probably why he wanted to have a big family of his own one day. There was some more footage of his dad, fixing a car engine, his face smudged with grease, and what looked like a police ceremony, where Rock received some kind of medal. He looked great in his uniform, his hair a little longer than he wore it now. I studied the images. He was younger, but that cheeky smile was firmly in place when he got that medal pinned to the lapel of his uniform. So much for thinking Rock was a stalker. The man was probably a hero.
“What did you do? Stop a bomber?”
“Nah. Just caught a guy harassing a bunch of old ladies. Don’t know why they gave me a medal for that.”
A faint memory stirred in my mind. “Wait. The Syracuse rapist? You caught the guy?”
“Yeah. You heard about that?”
“It was in the news,” I muttered. A sicko drug addict had assaulted over a dozen old ladies in retirement homes all across Syracuse before he was caught and put away.
I stared at Rock. The man was a hero. Mortification made my cheeks flush. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s all right. Trust has to be earned right? So I guess I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
“No, I know I can trust you, Rock. It’s just that…” I sat down on the bed. “I guess I’m still not completely recovered from…”
“The movie star,” he said, nodding. “I get it. And that’s fine.”
“I actually came in here looking for my diary. I… want it back.”
“Of course,” he said. “Only I don’t have it. I gave it to your mother, remember? I would never keep a personal diary, much less read it.”
I gave him a tiny smile. “Only glance at the entries.”
“Right,” he said, returning my smile. “To know whose it was.”
I thought for a moment, then made a decision. “Look, you asked me to share my secrets with you, so here goes.”
“Uh-oh,” he said, only half kidding.
I placed my hands in my lap. “I can see ghosts.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Come again?”
“I can see ghosts. And so can a lot of other people in Happy Bays.”
“Ghosts,” he said dubiously.
“Yep. Like the ghost of Banning Pender? I’ve been in contact with him.”
He sat down next to me on the bed and studied my face. “You’re not kidding,” he said after a while.
“No, I’m very serious. And if you don’t believe me, ask my dad. Or Mom. Or Fee. Or even Virgil. A lot of people in Happy Bays can talk to ghosts for some reason.”
“But…” He frowned. “Ghosts don’t exist.”
“That’s what I thought, until they started talking to me. I know it sounds weird.”
“What about crazy?” he muttered.
“Sure, crazy, weird, nuts. But it’s true. I don’t know why, or how it works, exactly, but it’s one of the reasons we get involved in these murder cases. Because victims’ ghosts reach out to us, asking us to help them find eternal peace.”
“By solving their murders so they can move on.”
I gave him a bright smile. “You catch on fast.”
“No, I’ve watched a lot of movi
es. But that’s Hollywood. This is real.”
“And ghosts don’t exist. I know. Wait until they start talking to you, Rock.”
“But… they don’t.”
“It’ll happen. I’m pretty sure it will. And when it does, you’ll see I wasn’t lying.”
He was shaking his head. “Whatever I expected, it wasn’t this.”
“I know. I just felt you have a right to know. Since you’ll be policing this town.”
“I had my suspicions. People acting weird around me. Conversations pausing when I walk in. I just figured it was typical small-town behavior. But ghosts?”
“I know it’s hard to believe.”
He looked up and fixed me with a confused look. “Hard to believe? It’s impossible to believe. How do I know you’re not simply pulling my leg?”
“You don’t. Not until you meet your first ghost. So let’s not talk about this. Because until that happens, it’s going to be impossible for you to believe.”
“Ghosts,” he muttered. “Incredible.”
“So aren’t you going to kiss me?” I asked, feeling relieved, and a little giddy, even. I wasn’t going to have to keep this a secret anymore.
“Kiss you?”
“Sure. Usually you can’t wait to kiss me.”
“That was before I found out you were…”
“A freak?”
“Well…”
I got up in a huff. I know I’d said I’d give him time, but I suddenly changed my mind. “When you and Dad are enjoying each other’s company in that Chicken Appreciation Club of yours, don’t forget to ask him about ghosts. Maybe you won’t think I’m such a freak then.” And before he could respond, I stalked off, stomped down the stairs, and was out the front door. Then I remembered I hadn’t even said goodbye to Mom and Dad. Or the chickens.
Chapter 22
“You shouldn’t have told him, honey,” said Fee as she ladled up the last few scoops of spaghetti sauce. We were seated at the kitchen table in our house, where Fee and Rick had just enjoyed a bowl of spaghetti bolognese, like a regular Lady and the Tramp. Though I probably shouldn’t have called Rick a tramp to his face. He didn’t seem to like it.
“It’s fine,” said Rick. “Rock can deal.” He was reading Time Magazine.
“Rock obviously can’t deal,” said Fee. “Or else he wouldn’t have called Alice a freak.”
“I thought he was ready,” I said.
“Didn’t we agree we wouldn’t tell him?”
“We did, until I decided otherwise.”
“And now he thinks you’re nuts.”
I groaned and rested my head on my hands. “What did I do? Now he’s probably going to go back to Syracuse, telling everyone that Happy Bays is full of weirdos who think they can talk to ghosts. He’s going to think we’re all suffering from mass hysteria.”
She stopped ladling up her sauce. “Is that a thing?”
“It is. When a bunch of people all believe in the same thing, all affecting each other.”
“Like the cat nuns,” said Rick knowingly.
“Cat nuns?” Fee asked.
“A bunch of nuns in a French convent suddenly all started meowing like cats. They would all meow together, driving the townies crazy. Finally the police had to step in and threaten to whip the nuns if they didn’t stop. Cat nuns. And then there were the biting nuns, of course.”
“Thanks, Rick,” said Fee. “You’re not exactly helping.”
“Just sharing my knowledge,” Rick murmured, turning a page.
I glanced at my housemate. “Is it true that you and Rock are buddies now?”
Rick became shifty-eyed, just like Virgil. “Um…”
“Are you?” asked Fee, surprised. “You didn’t tell me.”
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call us buddies,” Rick hedged. “More like acquaintances.”
“Rick told Rock about Reece,” I told Fee.
“Rick and Rock, sitting in a tree,” Fee muttered.
“Rick and Rock and Reece, more like,” Rick said with a bright smile.
“Oh, my God,” I said. “This is too much.”
“Then again, maybe this is good,” said Fee. “Rick and Reece can convince Rock that ghosts exist, and that they’re reaching out to us for help.”
The thought of Reece and Rock getting together somehow reminded me of a nuclear explosion that would wipe out all life on the planet as we know it. “No,” I said decidedly. “Rock and Reece shall never meet.”
“Like when two nuclei collide,” said Rick, as if he’d read my mind, “and cause a nuclear reaction.”
“Exactly,” I said. “Only the explosion would happen in my brain, wiping me away.” I gave him a pleading look. “Promise me those two will never meet, Ricky.”
“Rock and Reece will never meet,” he said dutifully.
I darted a quick look at his hands to see if he wasn’t crossing his fingers. He wasn’t. “Good,” I said. “I’ve got enough to deal with without my ex-boyfriend sweeping into town and causing havoc.”
“Like the bulls of Pamplona,” Rick said, nodding.
“Right,” I said, wondering if he was kidding. You never know with intellectuals. They often make me feel as if they’re making fun of me.
“So what are you going to do?” asked Fee, licking her fingers. “Can you believe I’m still hungry?” she asked Rick.
“I believe it,” Rick said without looking up from his article.
“I’m not going to do anything,” I said, having thought this through. “I’m going to ignore Rock, of course, and pretend he doesn’t exist, but apart from that, it’s business as usual for Alice Whitehouse.”
“That’s going to prove a little difficult when you join Rock and your parents for your weekly dinner,” said Rick.
“There is no weekly dinner,” I said. “That’s not even a thing.”
“Your mother thinks it’s a thing,” said Fee, “which makes it a thing.”
“I won’t go,” I said. “From now, I won’t come near that place.”
“You won’t come near your parents’ house?” asked Fee.
“No. Mom will understand, and so will Dad.”
Fee shook her head. “I hope you know what you’re doing, honey.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing.”
I had no idea what I was doing! I was lying in bed, having a full-blown panic attack. Why did I tell Rock I could talk to dead people? Why, why, oh why? So stupid! And that’s when I heard it. A soft footfall in the hallway. I stiffened in the dark, drawing my blanket closer to my chin, as if that would protect me from whatever boogeyman was on a rampage outside my room. It could be Rick, of course, who frequently got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Or Fee, her newfound appetite leading her to raid the fridge to satisfy those nighttime cravings.
There. There it was again. Someone was in the corridor, walking around.
I gulped, trying to will myself to do something. To open my mouth and call out.
“Who goes there?” I finally managed, but I only managed a hoarse whisper.
My teeth were clattering as I tried to convince myself no attacker would dare break into a house two nights in a row, especially as a cop car patrolled the area, with two ‘unis’ inside.
The room wasn’t completely dark, as there was a full moon out, its light penetrating my Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs curtains. Plus, my eyes were accustomed to the darkness, as I’d been wide awake for hours. So when the figure snuck into my room, I could see him perfectly clear. It wasn’t Rick, and it definitely wasn’t Fee. It was a smallish individual who was carrying a camera in his right hand, which he now aimed at me.
And that’s when anger trumped fear, and I reared up. “Hey, you little twerp! What do you think you’re doing, huh?”
The intruder produced a yelp of fear and legged it. I flicked on the light in the bedroom, and saw he was a stout young man with a face like a dog, and he was racing down the stairs at a surprisingly brisk
pace.
“Fee! Rick! Intruder!” I yelled, and then went in pursuit of the prowler.
And as I raced down the stairs, I could hear the intruder tearing through the kitchen, judging from the clattering of pots and pans as he collided with the butcher block. By the time I got there, and switched on the light, ready to fight the good fight, he’d fled out the back door, which was open. I stepped into the night, but he was gone. Our own two chickens, Eugenie and Beatrice, were clucking quietly, having been disturbed in their slumber, so it stood to reason the pervert had escaped via the chicken coop.
Fee and Rick joined me in the kitchen, Rick dressed in his usual black AC/DC PJs and Fee in a long, flowing cotton robe with a sash. “Wha’s going on?” Fee asked, yawning.
“Prowler,” I explained briefly. “Was filming me in my room. Went out the kitchen door.”
“He came back?” asked Rick.
“Yep. He must have thought my Frozen outfit was such a great hit he needed to shoot the sequel before the buzz died down.”
Rick took a quick peek at my outfit, Phineas and Ferb PJs, and shivered. “Maybe you should stop wearing such provocative nightwear, Alice. You’re a perv magnet.”
Without responding to this slur on Phineas and Ferb, I walked out the door again, this time armed with a flashlight, determined to root this evildoer out for good. And I’d walked as far as the chicken coop, Eugenie and Beatrice making soft sounds of distress, when I saw it.
“Found something!” I yelled to the others.
Fee and Rick joined me and we all stared at the object caught in the rhododendrons. It was a dog mask. Which explained the intruder’s dog face.
Rick carefully extracted the mask from the flowery bush. “Careful,” said Fee. “It probably needs to be checked for DNA.”
Rick nodded and held it out by thumb and index finger. It depicted a white doggie with a big nose and a cute smile. More a cartoon dog than a real one.
“I think it’s Bolt,” I said after careful consideration. “From the Disney movie?”
“You’re the connoisseur,” Fee said, studying the mask. “So this is Venganza Mierda, huh?”
And as we all stood there, something suddenly clicked into place inside my head. “Venganza Mierda. That’s Spanish for shit revenge, right?”