“Was he really checking me out?” Harper asked.
Zander couldn’t hide his smirk. “I knew you liked him.”
“I don’t like him,” Harper said. “I find him … repugnant.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“I can guarantee that there will never be anything romantic between Jared Monroe and myself,” Harper said. “We’re from two different worlds. Those worlds are never going to collide.”
“I’m going to remind you how wrong you were on this subject every day for the rest of our lives when I’m proven right,” Zander warned.
“Right back at you,” Harper shot back.
It was a battle of wills and they both knew it. Only one of them could be right. Now the question was: Which one?
Ten
“How do I look?”
Zander pranced into the living room later that night dressed in his favorite jeans and “special occasion” black shirt. The shirt was so tight it left nothing to the imagination – which was exactly the look Zander was going for on his big date with the waiter.
“You look handsome,” Harper said, glancing up from her spot on the couch where she was flipping through a magazine. “Wow. You even washed your hair.”
“I had to. Matilda was a crazy ghost and even though she threw that pot at you the dirt from inside got all over me. I can’t go out with my possible soul mate with dirt in my hair.”
Harper smirked. “Your possible soul mate? What are you going to call him when this relationship goes south?”
“The guy who serves the crappy clam chowder,” Zander replied, nonplussed. “Come on. Focus on me. Is there anything about this outfit that makes me look fat?”
Since Harper and Zander had been inseparable since kindergarten Harper’s mother, Gloria, was convinced her daughter was missing out on having a female best friend. What Gloria never realized was that Zander was better than any run-of-the-mill female friend. He was the best of both worlds. He could sit on the couch and commiserate over a pint of ice cream and then obsess about the calories an hour later. What more could a girl ask for?
“You look great,” Harper said, turning her attention back to the magazine.
If she thought the conversation was over with, she was sadly mistaken. “Harp, turn away from the magazine and pay attention to me.”
Harper sighed and tossed the magazine onto the couch, resigned. “I’m focused on you. What should I specifically be paying attention to?”
“Do I smell like I’m expecting sex or am I merely leaving the door open for it?” Zander asked, leaning over so Harper could inhale his new cologne.
“You smell like … .” Harper wrinkled her nose. “What is that?”
“Polo Blue.”
“Is that different than regular Polo?”
“Duh.”
Harper pinched Zander’s side. “You smell great. You look great. Stop fussing about this. Whenever you go out with a new guy we go through this rigmarole. You’re the handsomest guy in town. You know it and I know it.”
“What about Jared Monroe?” Zander teased.
“Do not go there.”
“We’re still not done talking about him, but I don’t have time for a big fight and the ice cream that will follow us making up,” Zander said. “We’re talking about this tomorrow, though.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Neither can I,” Zander said. He glanced down at Harper. “What are you going to do tonight?”
“I’m going to watch television and go to bed early.”
Zander frowned. “Your social life is tragic when I’m not around to force you to engage with others,” he said. “If I left you to your own devices you would spend your days in pajamas and curlers.”
“Curlers?”
“You know what I mean,” Zander said. “This is why I think Jared would be good for you.”
“I thought we were waiting until tomorrow to talk about this,” Harper said.
“If you were to date Jared you could be couch potatoes together,” Zander said.
“What makes you think he’s a couch potato?”
“He certainly doesn’t look like a party person,” Zander said. “In fact … he kind of looks like he’s the outdoorsy type.” Zander involuntarily shuddered. “Don’t worry. We can work around that. Don’t ever let him talk you into going ice fishing, though. Jerry Douglas told me it was fun in high school and it was not fun.”
Harper giggled, love for her best friend washing over her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Seriously, though, I wish you wouldn’t sit here alone all the time when I’m out,” Zander said. “I worry about you.”
“You never have to worry about me,” Harper said. “I … .” She broke off, the rest of her sentence left hanging in the ether when the sound of someone rummaging around in their kitchen assailed her ears. Since Zander and Harper were the only ones home that meant someone else had entered the house. “Who?”
Zander leaned over so he could see into the kitchen, grimacing when he shifted back to his previous spot. “You don’t want to know.”
“I … .” Harper narrowed her eyes. “Who? Should I run now?”
“Where are you going to run?”
Harper recognized her mother’s voice before she even walked into the living room. Zander made a comical face, raising his eyebrows and swallowing his upper lip with his lower as Harper came to grips with her mother’s appearance.
As an only child, Harper liked things a certain way. She was used to solitude – and she genuinely enjoyed it. She liked spending time with Zander even though she was also perfectly happy on her own. She enjoyed spending time with her father because they were two individuals who could hang out in the same room without feeling the need to fill awkward conversational gaps. What Harper and her mother shared was completely different.
“Hello, Gloria,” Zander said, forcing a smile for the visiting woman’s benefit. “How are you this fine spring evening?”
“I think I have crabs,” Gloria said, her blond corkscrew curls standing on end when she finally popped into Harper’s field of vision.
“Mom!” Harper was mortified.
“I do,” Gloria said. “I’m very itchy … down there … and the guy I’ve been seeing is a stud. I think he’s gotten around a time or two.”
Phil and Gloria Harlow spent twenty-eight horrible years together before they called time on their marriage and filed for divorce. When she was a teenager, Harper imagined that her parents only stayed married because of her. She was convinced they would announce their divorce the second she left for college.
It didn’t happen.
After that, Harper was convinced they were waiting for her to graduate from college. The day after her graduation party she expected a phone call announcing their split.
It didn’t happen.
Every year Harper came up with a scenario where they would tell her they were getting divorced.
When it didn’t happen time after time, Harper lulled herself into a false sense of security. Her parents were screamers. They liked to fight. Maybe that revved their motors. That’s the only way Harper could rationalize their union.
When she was finally settled and ready to embrace the fact they were going to stay together despite their mutual hatred of one another they yanked the rug out from under her and announced their impending divorce.
They were still in the process of it – even though they’d told her a year before – and the fight was getting ugly. They’d taken to arguing about who got what spoons. Harper was willing to buy them both their own set to let it go, but getting in the middle of the two of them was akin to a scene from The Hunger Games so Harper learned her lesson about getting involved. Well … mostly.
Even though she was resigned to the divorce she was still grappling with watching them date. It was like the worst sitcom ever – only she was the punch line.
“I’m sure you don’t have crabs,” Zander said. “Does
anyone still get crabs? That’s such a lame STD. You probably have a yeast infection. Have you been having a lot of sex? I’ve read that if you have a lot of sex it can lead to a yeast infection.”
Harper was horrified. “Where on Earth did you read that?”
“We have a subscription to Cosmopolitan,” Zander reminded her.
“You have a subscription,” Harper corrected.
“You read the sex articles, too,” Zander said. “Don’t even deny it.”
“Why would Harper read the sex articles?” Gloria asked. “Don’t you have to engage in sex to read about it? I think that should be the rule.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Harper said, shooting Gloria a death glare. “Why are you here?”
“I need a slutty skirt,” Gloria said. “I have a date tonight and I need something that shows off my legs and gives Walter easy access if he wants it.”
Harper seriously thought she was going to throw up. “I don’t have a slutty skirt.”
“You’re dating a man named Walter?” Zander asked. “That’s not a very sexy name.” Even though Gloria and Zander fought like cats and dogs they had a grudging respect for one another.
“Walter Shanks,” Gloria clarified. “It’s not a great name, but the things he does in bed … wowza … he can shank me whenever he wants.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “I don’t think that means what you think it means. Shanking is something prison inmates do to each other.”
“We do that, too,” Gloria said.
“Omigod.” Harper covered her face with her hands. “Never tell me anything like that again. Never!”
“You don’t have a problem listening to Zander talk about it,” Gloria complained.
“Zander doesn’t talk about things like that,” Harper argued.
Gloria glanced at Zander for confirmation.
“I don’t,” Zander said. “Sometimes I draw her little pictures on napkins, but we don’t really talk about it.”
“I thought you were best friends,” Gloria said. “Don’t best friends talk about things like that?”
“Harper doesn’t have a frame of reference and she freaks out at sex talk,” Zander explained. “I can’t explain it. I think she might be frigid.”
“I am not frigid!”
“Oh, chill out,” Gloria said, rolling her eyes. “I need a skirt.”
“I don’t have a slutty skirt,” Harper said. “I already told you that.”
“I think you’re making that up,” Gloria challenged.
“Go and look in my closet,” Harper said, pinching the bridge of her nose to ward off the raging headache she was sure was only seconds away from descending. “Take whatever you want.”
Gloria brightened. “Thank you.”
She disappeared down the hallway and Harper waited until she was sure her mother was out of earshot before she turned on Zander. “You did that on purpose,” she hissed. “You know I don’t like it when you encourage the sex talk from her.”
“Your mother is going through an … awakening,” Zander said. “I think you should support her instead of making faces every time she shows up for guidance and help.”
“You know she calls you ‘the big poof’ when you’re not around, right?” Harper asked.
“Fine. Set her on fire.”
Harper scorched Zander with a look. “That’s not helping. I don’t want to deal with this. I’m too old to deal with this. I don’t want to hear about how much sex she’s having with Walter.”
“Walter Shanks is a really crappy name,” Zander mused. “I wonder what he does for a living.”
“He’s a lawyer,” Gloria said, breezing back into the room with a black skirt draped over her arm.
Harper’s cheeks burned. Was her mother eavesdropping? Had she heard everything they’d said?
“What did you find?” Zander asked, unruffled by the possibility of being caught talking badly about Gloria.
Gloria held up the simple black skirt. “It’s the only thing she had that made me think I wouldn’t want to kill myself if I was forced to wear it.”
“It’s not very sexy,” Zander said.
“It will be when I get done putting a slit in it,” Gloria said, moving toward the front door. “I’ll bring it back when I’m done.”
“Keep it,” Harper said, waving her mother off. “I’m not going to want it after you finish … whoring it up.”
“Way to stay positive, Harper,” Gloria deadpanned. “Zander, have a good evening with your date … and I only call you a poof on special occasions.”
“That’s good to know,” Zander said, dropping a kiss on Gloria’s cheek. “I’ll walk you out. I’m leaving anyway.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Gloria said.
Zander shot one more look in Harper’s direction. “Try to do something fun while I’m gone. Going to bed early and reading a book doesn’t count.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Harper said, her tone dry.
Once the door was shut and the house was empty of everything but Harper’s busy mind, the intrepid blonde ghost hunter waited exactly five minutes before she flipped the magazine shut and got to her feet.
She’d been lying when she told Zander she had nothing planned. She had something planned … it was just something he wasn’t going to like. After a few hours of searching on the Internet during the afternoon stretch, Harper found an address for Annie Dresden. Zander mentioned it before but she didn’t want to bring it up and tip him off regarding what she had planned. She was going to visit the woman’s house in search of a lost soul. She didn’t want to tell Zander because he was likely to cancel his date to watch her. She didn’t want that.
Once Harper was sure Zander wasn’t returning, she grabbed her keys off the table by the front door and hopped out of the house. She thought briefly about changing from her comfortable pink sleep pants and tank top but decided better of it, instead grabbing a hoodie to cover her should she get cold.
It’s not like she was going to see anyone she cared about. After all, she didn’t care what anyone thought about her clothes anyway.
She wasn’t prepared for just how wrong that way of thinking was about to go.
Eleven
Annie Dresden’s rental property was something of an enigma. After spending twenty minutes watching the small ranch house from her purple Ford Focus trying to decide the best way to search the property, Harper approached it cautiously. In truth, she really wanted to make sure no one was inside the house.
It was dark and empty. The occupant was never coming home – not as a living entity, at least.
Harper didn’t know what she expected. The property appeared close to the St. Clair Community College campus on a map, but it was actually surrounded by woods. Since it was dark, Harper couldn’t ascertain if there was a trail that led through the thick trees. She guessed it didn’t matter. Still, the quiet house was not how Harper remembered her college days.
Even though the house was isolated Harper knew her plaid, cotton sleep pants stood out against the stark night sky. They were pink and white, and the tank top she was wearing was also pink – although she’d opted for a black hoodie to wear over it. If anyone was watching there was no way she could hide. She silently cursed herself for not taking the time to change her clothes, but it was too late now. She was here and she had a task to do.
Harper pocketed her keys and took an arcing trek around the house. She was used to ghosts, but she wasn’t above a good scare from time to time. Since she was alone, she didn’t want to panic if Annie Dresden popped up out of nowhere.
As she stepped to the side of the house Harper moved close enough to peer through a window. The moon was bright, but it didn’t give off enough illumination to give Harper an idea of how Annie lived and that was something Harper realized she needed to know if she was going to discover how the woman died.
“Are you a pervert or something?”
Harper jumped when she heard the voice, pasting a rueful smi
le on her face as she turned and regarded Annie’s ethereal visage. “Not last time I checked,” she said. “My best friend told me I was frigid before he left on his date tonight.”
Annie arched an eyebrow, a mannerism remaining from life. There was a sardonic twist about it Harper couldn’t help but enjoy. “You’re best friends with a man?” Annie asked. “How does that work?”
“We’ve been best friends since elementary school so I’ve never really known friendship to be any other way,” Harper explained.
“How come you don’t date? If you like each other so much you would think dating would be the logical next step.”
“He’s gay.”
“Ah.”
“And kind of fickle,” Harper added. “He’s the best friend I’ve ever had and he will always be a sort of … soul mate … for me. We could never be in a relationship, though. Even if he wasn’t gay that would never work out.”
“Is he ugly?” Annie asked, genuinely curious.
“No. He’s just a constant pain in my rear end,” Harper said. “If we dated I’d have to smother him in his sleep. His antics are a lot funnier when romantic love isn’t attached to them.”
Annie laughed, the south full of mirth despite her circumstances. “You’re funny. Is he funny, too?”
“He’s very funny,” Harper said. “You’d probably like him.”
“Is he the guy who was at the beach with you today?”
“That’s him,” Harper said, hoping that holding up her end of a friendly conversation would be enough to get Annie to trust her. She was determined to help, but she needed information to do it. Annie wasn’t going to trust a stranger with the biggest secrets of her life … even if they led to eventually solving her death. “He keeps making me go to the same café on Main Street because he’s been cruising the waiter. He finally went out with him tonight so we can start eating at more than one restaurant.”
“Wouldn’t he want to see his new boyfriend more often?”
“He’ll only date him a few times before he finds something tragically wrong with him and has to dump him,” Harper replied.
Annie smiled, the expression lighting up her pallid features. “He sounds wonderful.”
Ghostly Interests Page 8