Deader Homes and Gardens

by Angie Fox

  “She was badly burned,” I said.

  “How did you know?”

  “I met her.”

  “Be careful, Verity.”

  “I will,” I said, feeling like I had a direction for the first time.

  Perhaps I’d make a visit to the gardens and try to locate the burned-out arbor before the professor’s visit tomorrow. Maybe then I’d learn what was really going on at the Rock Fall estate.

  Chapter 9

  It rained that night, and when it came time to leave the next morning, I found Frankie lounging under the apple tree, one of his arms flung over his eyes and one wing-tipped shoe missing.

  The birds chirped, the sun shone bright, but I doubted he appreciated any of it.

  He didn’t even move as I stood over him. “Fun evening?”

  The corner of his mouth tugged up in a grin. “They’d have arrested us for sure…if they could have caught us.”

  “Well, up and at ’em,” I said. “We’ve got a job to do.”

  He lifted his arm and cracked open an eye.

  I probably shouldn’t have picked that moment to take the doll from under my arm and jiggle it at him.

  The gangster slammed his eyes shut. “You got a funny way of asking for help.”

  “I’m sorry.” He made it too easy to mess with him. “But you still have to get up. A deal’s a deal. You filled my porch with spooks. Now you’re going to show me the other side.”

  He uncoiled from the ground like a dangerous snake and I could see why he’d inspired fear when he was alive.

  “I’ve got a better idea,” he said, eyeing me like the ruthless gangster he was. “The guys and I discussed a few things last night.” He looked me up and down like I was a commodity. “And if we’re gonna get anything done these days, we need a person on the outside.”

  “A what?” I asked.

  “A runner.” He grinned. “A live body.”

  He couldn’t be serious. “I’m not joining your gang,” I stated. “No way. No how.”

  “There are perks,” he said, casually removing his hat and brushing the dust off.

  “Like a bullet hole to the forehead? No, thanks.” I didn’t even want to see what had gone down in my backyard now that the gangsters had free rein.

  “It’s definitely better than ghost hunting,” he assured me.

  “Are you done?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll talk about it later.” He returned his hat to his head. “In the meantime, I’ve got plenty to do here that doesn’t involve putting my neck on the line so you can get paid in salad fixings.”

  “If you go back on your promise,” I warned sharply, “I’ll go back on mine.”

  His eyes widened before he broke into a sly grin. “See? That kind of attitude is why you’d be a valuable member of our organization.”

  “Frankie,” I ground out.

  “We’ll talk about it in the car,” he stated, his helpfulness making me instantly suspicious.

  I held his gaze, as if I could guess his angle by staring at him, and sort of through him.

  He merely raised his brows.

  “All right,” I said, letting him walk me to my ancient green Cadillac. We’d play his game. I was getting what I wanted. For now.

  The car smelled musty from last night’s drizzle. I couldn’t remember a time when the land yacht had been one hundred percent waterproof.

  I placed my bag on the passenger-side floor and the doll in the backseat, where Frankie didn’t have to look at her. He disappeared and then reappeared in the passenger seat.

  He was making this too easy. Something was up.

  I slid into the car and we pulled out slowly, the rock driveway crackling under the tires as we eased along the side of the house.

  “Stop,” Frankie ordered when we’d reached the front.

  I knew there’d be a catch. “What?” I asked, putting the car in park.

  He raised a hand. “I need to give you something. The next second, his power slammed into me in a wave of sharp energy that shook me to my core.

  “Turn it down,” I ordered, whooshing out a breath. I clung to the steering wheel, trying to center myself as the hot energy sank into my bones, warming me from the inside out.

  “Whoops.” He adjusted his power, but he didn’t apologize. The energy transfer eased a little, but I still felt every hair on my arms stand at attention. “There,” he said. “You’re all set. You can see the other side.”

  True. However, I couldn’t help but notice that the gangster had arranged it so I could not see what was going on in my own backyard.

  I shook out my arms, trying to get rid of the prickling sensation of the power transfer. Shouts and laughter echoed from my backyard. “It sounds like a party back there,” I said, cranking down the window. Yep, definitely out of hand.

  “More of a get-together,” the gangster shot back.

  I leaned an elbow on the window edge. “Be honest with me, Frankie. How many people did you invite?”

  He made a show of looking at his wristwatch. “You’re going to be late. You should go.” He disappeared and then reappeared standing outside the passenger-side window. He leaned on the window, his head poking through the glass. “I’ll stay and guard the fort.”

  Hardly. “I need you.”

  He glanced toward the backyard. “I haven’t hung with Suds and the guys enough since you trapped me.”

  Guilt trip time. “You saw them at the speakeasy. They tried to shoot me.”

  He waved me off. “They’re over that. Well, all except for Crazy Louie. He still wants to plug you, but he’s visiting his sister. She haunts a convent in Omaha.”

  “Great.” This was my life now.

  He gave an almost guilty shrug. “Let the boys have a little fun. You do want somebody keeping an eye on the place, right?”

  Dang him. I didn’t appreciate him bailing on my first real ghost hunt.

  Despite what he said, Frankie had a pretty good handle on the other side. He was a natural at reading situations and knowing how to fit in. “You planned this.” He’d lured me out of the backyard, turned on my power, and now he was going to make me do this alone. “You purposely tricked me.”

  Frankie held out his hands in a gesture of surrender. “It’s what I do.”

  Much to my regret.

  But he had kept his promise—he’d given me his power. Heaven knew what would happen to my house when I was gone, even with Frankie there, much less with him absent.

  “Fine.” I ka-chunked the car into gear. “I’ll handle it by myself.” I couldn’t force him to do the right thing. “I have your urn. You can join me if you feel guilty later.”

  “Not likely,” he said, gliding toward the backyard.

  “You’re the most unreliable criminal I know!” I yelled out the window at him.

  He merely waved.

  “Jerk face,” I muttered under my breath.

  If he heard, he didn’t care.

  No, he’d just spend the day with his friends, kicking up his heels in the place I loved and cherished, while I faced…whatever lurked inside Rock Fall mansion.

  I tugged my hair into a ponytail and secured it with one of the bands I kept in the otherwise empty ashtray of the car.

  Frankie was not going to get away with this. If I could complete this job at the mansion, if we made any money, the first thing I was going to do was build Frankie a shed out by the pond—his gang could meet out there and not anywhere near my private home.

  I cringed as a jazz band started up, playing a ghostly rendition of the “East St. Louis Toodle-Oo.” A girl my age shouldn’t even know what that sounded like, and I wouldn’t have if Frankie didn’t hum it all the time.

  I cranked up my window and refused to give him another thought as I headed north, toward the swanky part of town.

  It’ll get better, I told myself.

  It had to.

  One thing was certain, I never thought I’d be heading to a haunted house in order
to get some peace and quiet.

  * * *

  I pulled up to the Treadwell mansion five minutes early, which would have filled me with pride if I hadn’t found Ovis Dupree, investigative reporter for the Shady Acres Senior Living Center Gazette, standing on the porch, grilling my old professor. Ovis was eighty if he was a day. And he didn’t know the meaning of retirement.

  Rats! This was worse than losing Frankie. I parked the car and grabbed my bag. I’d get the doll later.

  Dale Grassino stood with his back to me, in his usual uniform of khaki pants and white button-down. I’d have recognized him from his tan, bald head and wiry frame alone.

  Ovis stood way too close, notebook in hand, hanging on every word my professor had better not be saying.

  I’d bet my bottom dollar Ovis had been tipped off by whoever left that pie.

  I took the steps two at a time. “Professor Grassino,” I said, giving my professor a hug while at the same time inserting myself between him and the reporter. Hopefully, he hadn’t said much. The professor always thought before he spoke, which was a quality I admired at that moment. I hadn’t told him the journals, as well as the search for the artifacts, were secret.

  Unfortunately, Ovis was smart and not the type who believed in keeping anything private. I turned to the short, mahogany-skinned reporter, whose white sneakers peeked out from under his black dress pants. “Ovis,” I said, acknowledging him.

  He had sharp eyes and a kind grin. “See, Professor? I told you Verity and I were old friends.” He winked at me. “How’s your mother?”

  “Don’t you start,” I told him. He didn’t care about my mother unless she was making news in Sugarland. I turned to Professor Grassino. “I’m sorry if there was any confusion here. I appreciate you coming down.”

  Ovis took a picture.

  “There’s nothing newsworthy about this. I’m just standing here with an old friend,” I told him.

  “About to enter a house that has been locked down for the last seventy years.” Ovis rested the camera on his chin, as if I should fill in the rest.

  The reporter might be bluffing. He might not know a thing.

  Or he might know way too much.

  Either way, the last thing we needed was publicity, not with possible antiquities in the house and a ghostly investigation barely underway.

  “I already gave you a plum story,” I told him. The exclusive about how Ellis and I had solved the murder of the town banker had gotten the octogenarian bumped up to official guest reporter for the Sugarland Gazette.

  He tilted his head. “And yet Professor Grassino here tells me that you’ve called him in on your first ghost-hunting investigation.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Professor Grassino said. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

  “You can’t bait us. It won’t work,” I said to Ovis, even as I felt myself begin to sweat.

  Just then, Lee walked up from the back garden.

  Ovis turned to him. “Lee!” he said warmly. “I miss seeing you since you retired. And my wife doesn’t bake those shortbread cookies anymore. I knew she was making them for you.” He waited near the steps as Lee trudged up. “Let me be one of the first people inside the house.”

  Lee knew Ovis’s game, but shook his hand anyway. “Tell Vera she’s welcome to drop by with cookies. As for the house,” he said, pulling the keys out and moving toward the door, “we’ve already been in.”

  “Then you won’t mind me taking a look,” Ovis concluded. “I can do a fantastic write-up on your family history. It’ll be in both papers.”

  Lee inserted the key in the lock and glanced at me. “This lock is ice cold.”

  Ovis took his picture.

  “You don’t give up, do you?” I asked the reporter.

  The air on the porch had grown a bit chilly. Maybe it was the breeze.

  Ovis grinned. “It’s my curse. I’ve got to know.”

  Both Lee and I stared at him when he said curse.

  Ovis dropped the smile and shrugged. “Ghost investigation. Egyptian artifacts. It’s a good story.”

  Just then, a shot of wind whipped around the house. Professor Grassino braced himself. I leaned against the house. Ovis stumbled backward and fell off the porch.

  “Ovis!” I called, rushing down the steps to where he lay on his back in the grass. He might be too persistent for his own good, but his wife had been nothing but sweet to my grandmother back in the day and I absolutely could not tell her that her husband had gotten hurt on my watch.

  The old reporter lay with his camera on his chest, chuckling up at the sky. “It pushed me!”

  “It was the wind,” I said, helping him as he tried to sit. I was tuned in and I hadn’t seen anything, although I hadn’t been looking. And ghosts could be quick when they wanted to get the jump on someone—living or dead. “I’ll call Vera.” She could pick him up.

  “You’ll do no such thing,” he said, almost fighting me as I helped him to his feet. He reached down for his ball cap. “Did you see me go flying off there? I wish I had a picture of that.”

  He was lucky he didn’t break a hip.

  “We’re going in without you,” I told him as I watched Lee usher Professor Grassino inside. “I hope you can understand.”

  “I’ll wait,” Ovis said, as if that were the third option.

  I sighed and he smiled.

  “Behave,” I said, heading for the house.

  We’d just have to conclude our business quickly, then—before Ovis spilled the beans and we had the whole town watching.

  I slipped inside and twisted the door bolt behind me, locking us inside a haunted, possibly cursed house.

  Perhaps this had not been the best career choice.

  Professor Grassino shook his head. “People amaze me. We might have some wonderful, historical journals in this house and all that reporter wants to talk about is ghosts.”

  “I know you’re not a believer.” He was one of those ‘just the facts’ types, which I suppose had worked out well for him.

  Perhaps the ghosts and I could enlighten him. I didn’t want to shock my old teacher, but I didn’t think he’d believe me if I told him what had brought me here.

  He glanced around the impressive foyer. “Now what do you want to show me?”

  “A ghost,” I gasped as a figure of a man shimmered into view at the bottom of the staircase, lying prone—right on top of the death marker. I took a quick step back, surprised at the suddenness of it all.

  “Be serious,” the professor remarked. Even as he spoke, he glanced around him. “I think I’m standing under a vent.”

  “The chill would be him,” I murmured. The figure grew more distinct, fitting exactly over the mark on the floor, his face down, his arms sprawled out in front and his legs tangled behind.

  I could see now that he wore a white shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows. He stirred, pushing up from the floor, and I recognized Robert, Jack’s exploring partner.

  He stood shakily, brushing away dust I couldn’t see, his shirt gaping half open, his hair mussed. Despite his state, he cut a handsome figure as he tried to right himself. “I’m sorry you have to see me this way,” he said, out of breath. He gestured toward his death spot. “This is the fastest way for me to…” He seemed at a loss for words.

  “Show yourself?” I supplied.

  “Yes,” he said plainly. “This is an oddly comforting place.”

  Poor thing. “I’ve never seen a death spot used that way.” Not that I’d had much experience.

  Professor Grassino stared at me. “What are you doing?” he asked, in the same tone he used when someone acted up in class.

  “Give me a second,” I told him. He wouldn’t believe me anyway.

  I let out a sigh and focused on Robert. It felt so good to actually speak to one of the ghosts in the house and have the ghost respond.

  “If it’s not too painful,” I said to the ghost, “can you tell me how you died?”

  R
obert appeared distinctly uncomfortable and remained rooted to the spot. “The curse.”

  “But how?” I pressed. I didn’t understand how some unseen force could just kill a person.

  Robert kept an eye out, as if it could still get him. “I don’t know how.” He let out a short laugh that reminded me more of the charmer I suspected he’d been. “When I saw you yesterday, I knew I had to warn you.” He began to take a step toward me before holding back. “We brought something…terrible back,” he added, his voice heavy with regret. “You need to get out now. Take those two as well,” he said, glancing to my companions.

  I turned and saw Lee wide-eyed, frozen in place to my left, and the professor on my right, looking at me like I’d disappointed him greatly.

  “There’s no time to debate,” Robert insisted. “I can’t take form again. I don’t want to anger it. But I’m not going to stand by and watch you get hurt. You saw the presence in the study,” Robert warned. “You can still leave.”

  “There really is a ghost,” I said to my old teacher. “He’s right here. He says there is a cursed entity and we need to get out of the house.” I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to follow Robert’s advice. It would mean the end of our ghost hunt. But he deserved to be heard.

  The professor huffed in annoyance. “I’m not here for supernatural hocus-pocus. I drove all this way to see the journals. Frankly, Verity, I expected better from you.”

  Robert tilted his chin up. “Normally, I’d be honored to show my work, but I can’t let you in there.”

  “Where’s the study?” the professor asked Lee.

  My client pointed toward the parlor. “Back two rooms, in the rear of the house.”

  “Thank you.” He turned to me. “Now stop wasting time and come along.”

  The ghost broke away from his death mark and, shaking, stood in front of the professor, blocking his path to the study. “No, sir. I can’t allow it. I won’t allow it.”

  “Don’t move,” I told the professor. It wouldn’t hurt him to walk through Robert, but it might upset the ghost even more. Besides, Robert might have a point. There had been a dark presence in the study last time. If it was there now, we should avoid it. We could always come back.