On the Cutting Room Floor (A Ghosts of Landover Mystery Book 8)

by Etta Faire

  “The only thing I really remember is being glad I never had to work with Ned Reinhart again. I was so excited to work with that guy because he was such a big-name director, but there’s a reason they say never meet your heroes. He was a jerk.”

  “What makes you say that?” I asked, even though I could think of several examples from my channeling.

  She went on. “One time, early on in our filming, a woman’s group came by the Box Light one night to stage a protest because they thought Ned was staying there. There must have been about fifteen… twenty women in nice pantsuits with signs. He was livid when he heard about it, called them stupid for going to the wrong motel.”

  “That’s strange,” I said. “So he wanted them to find him?”

  “Yeah, I guess he wanted to use the footage as publicity for the film, and the Box Light didn’t have surveillance cameras. So, to him, it was a wasted moment. He hated wasted moments. Every facial expression you made or way you tossed your hair in a movie had to have a reason, or it was a wasted moment. And wasted moments set the guy off. I never worked with him again. I went into stage acting.”

  The baby cried again, and I heard what sounded like the shaking of a bottle. “Here you go,” she said in a calming voice. The baby stopped crying.

  “So you were staying at the Box Light with Somer?”

  “Yeah. Somer and I worked together on a lot of films back then, and we usually roomed together. But she big-timed me on that movie. She had her own room. I didn’t, of course…”

  Her voice trailed off like she was remembering something. “Please tell Mandy I didn’t know Somer and her husband were… you know…” she said.

  “So, there weren’t any signs, and Somer didn’t confide in you?”

  “No. She was always flirty with the producers and stuff, but she told me it wasn’t like that. I didn’t believe her after she and Graham got married. Her career really took off for a while after that, too.”

  “Tell me about the bar the night of Mandy’s murder. Who was there and when did they leave?”

  She paused to think about it.

  During her pause, I noticed it was unusually quiet in the front room, and I briefly thought Rosalie and Paula must have killed each other, until Paula asked for the first jar half-off just “to see if it worked like everyone said it would.”

  I was also relieved I could continue talking. I knew I was going to have to make this quick, though. Rosalie was going to wonder where I was at.

  Hannah went on. “Everyone was there, except for Mandy.”

  “Did Graham and Somer seem drunk at the end of the night?”

  “How am I supposed to remember that?” She laughed. “No more than usual, I guess.”

  “Do you remember any locals at the bar, trying to hang out with you guys that night?”

  “There were always locals at the bar trying to hang out. To them, we were famous. It was kinda sweet.”

  “How about a short, thin guy with a baseball cap?” I asked. “Do you remember him?”

  “Maybe. I think they all looked like that, though. I do remember a tall guy with a huge sweaty head and a lab coat. Tried to hit on me.”

  Dr. Dog. Everyone remembered that creep.

  “Yes, the short guy is his friend. Was he there?”

  “My days are mixing up at this point. Sorry. We went to that bar a lot.” She shushed the baby again even though she was no longer crying. “Look, I’ve gotta go.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “If there’s anything else you remember about Ned or Somer or Graham or anyone, please call me.”

  I put my phone back and listened in on the argument still going on in the next room. Paula was finagling some sort of buy-one-get-one offer. They were still yelling about it, though, so neither one was happy.

  I was pretty sure it had more to do with the fact Rosalie couldn’t stand Paula Henkel (and vice versa) than it did the cost of bird repellant.

  I stuffed the five sticky notes into my pocket and went to see what was going on.

  Jackson was hovering off to the side, shaking his ghostly faded head. “It was only entertaining the first five minutes. And only then because I was certain a real fight was going to break out…”

  “Carly, tell your boss that a buy-one-get-one-fifty-percent-off deal is insulting. That’s more than a hundred dollars for two tiny jars of stuff I’m not sure will even work. And we all know these things cost you a buck fifty to make.”

  “Then make them yourself,” Rosalie shot back. “You are buying my expertise.”

  “Expertise in crazy isn’t worth much…” Paula said, making Jackson nod his head in agreement. She pointed to the jars sitting on the checkout counter. “You can put them back. I’m not buying them. Not for that price.”

  I went over and scooped up the two jars. “I didn’t think we should be selling this to anyone but people who can prove they need it, anyway,” I said. “The birds seem to attack certain people. Who knows why? And this stuff will help you if you’ve already become a target. But, it can also make people who have never been attacked by birds become targets too.”

  I shook my head as I turned one of the jars over and tapped the tiny writing on the back. “There’s a disclaimer on the back of each jar, but it’s not enough. I saw an attack happen to Mr. Peters once, and it was terrifying…”

  “I’ll take four at the buy-one-get-one price,” Paula said. “Ring me up.”

  As soon as she left, Rosalie put her arm around me. “You’re a good salesperson,” she said, hugging me so tightly I could smell the expensive herbal shampoo she used for her dreadlocks, that she could soon be able to afford to buy in bulk thanks to the bird repellant. “So much so, I’ll even forgive that long personal call you just took.”

  Chapter 26

  The Trouble With Dogs

  It was a slow day at the Purple Pony, so Rosalie let me off early. I checked my phone on the way out. No call from Dr. Dog yet, but it was still early enough for me to catch him at the animal hospital.

  As I pulled my car along the road toward the Landover Animal Hospital, I thought about the case.

  Jackson was by my side, so it was hard to think. I knew he wanted to go over things with me, like usual, but I was a little upset that he’d ridden on me when I had ghost repellant in my pocket.

  “When did you know the ghost repellant had lost its potency?” I asked.

  “I had no idea it had, Carly doll,” he replied. “I always try to ride along with you, and today I was able to. Simple as that.”

  I stared at him a second, not sure I believed him. He had grown up rich and privileged, and I knew he could not fathom that there were places in life (and death) that were not open to him.

  I pulled into the small parking lot with cartoon pictures of dogs and cats painted on signs indicating that parking was for Landover Animal Hospital only, like anyone else wanted to park here.

  I parked next to a cartoon Dalmatian but didn’t get out. Instead, I pulled the business card Caleb gave me from my wallet. The one he scribbled his “personal number” on that I could only call in an emergency.

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Go on, call him,” Jackson said from the passenger’s seat.

  I slipped the card back into my wallet and threw it in my purse. “This will have to wait until tomorrow. I can only do one vile thing a day, and right now, it’s time for me to see Dr. Dog. Are you coming?”

  “Of course,” he said. “I can’t wait to see how old Knuckles is getting along. But, you also might need my help, and you’ve probably noticed I’m getting very good at throwing things around. I’ve even surprised myself at what an asset I’ve become. Why anyone would want extra-strong ghost repellant to keep me from tagging along is beyond me.”

  I ignored him. But it made me smile that he was a little worried about the extra-strong ghost repellant.

  Jackson went on. “I wonder if Knuckles’s friend, Crazy Hank, told him about our visit the other day. You did mention to h
im that you were a medium from Landover.”

  My sandal caught on nothing and I stumbled forward a few steps. He was right.

  “I might need your help, after all,” I said.

  The animal hospital always smelled like strong disinfectant mixed with wet fur. A couple of dogs barked in the backroom somewhere.

  Marylou Marvelton shook her head at me when I came in. “Carly Mae,” she said. “I gave him your message. I’m sure he’s gonna call you as soon as he gets a chance. He’s only now finishing up for the day.”

  “I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d drop by.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. Everything was kind of “in the neighborhood” around here, except for Gate House that was a thousand miles away and up a hill.

  “I’ll tell him you’re here,” she said, as she scooted off her stool and strutted around to the back room.

  “Tell him I only need to talk for five minutes,” I yelled as she left.

  A makeup brochure sat on the counter and I thumbed through it while I waited, not sure why I was bothering. I couldn’t afford anything in it.

  After a minute, Marylou strutted back over to her computer again. “He’s coming right out. Are you going to Bobby Junior’s birthday party?”

  I nodded. Everyone was asking me that. “Buying him a present tonight. You?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. There’s going to be makeup samples, I hear. And order forms.” She clapped. “I have a ton of things I want to get this time around.” She pointed to the brochure I was looking at. “Shelby gave me that little catalog, and I’m probably going to buy everything in it…”

  I realized everyone was using the one-year-old’s birthday party to sell things. My boss. Shelby.

  The sound of large shoes squeaking along linoleum made me glance up.

  “Why are you looking through that makeup magazine again, Marylou?” Dr. Dog asked as he approached the desk. “I keep telling you you’re beautiful just the way you are. Calvin is a lucky man.” He added, with a weird emphasis on the word lucky that confirmed the creepiness of that particular compliment.

  Dr. Dog towered over both of us with his greasy dark hair and thick head. “And hello there, Carly Mae,” he said, like he was just now noticing me. He talked with a slow, confident kind of cadence. “Marylou tells me you want to talk about an old friend of mine. Let’s talk in my office.”

  He motioned for me to follow him. Jackson appeared again, right behind me. I was actually glad he was there.

  My heart thumped into my chest. Had this guy talked to Hank? He seemed way too nice right now in front of Marylou.

  Dr. Dog’s office barely fit a desk and a printer, but he’d somehow also crammed in a microwave, dorm fridge, and a Keurig machine with several coffee mugs around it. Or maybe, it just seemed particularly small when compared to the giant who had to work here.

  He motioned for me to sit down.

  He sat in the leather chair opposite me and pushed his lips together, his face growing red under the strain. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Leave Hank Krebs alone. Got it?”

  I could hardly believe I already had a last name for Crazy Hank and we’d just started.

  But how to keep the man going?

  He went on. “Did you think he wouldn’t call me? He told me some crazy medium from Landover came by his museum, said she had made contact with Mandy Smalls and was figuring out her murder. Hank was just wondering if I knew who the crackpot was…”

  He stood up so he towered over me again. “Leave the man alone,” he said, even louder this time. The veins in his neck throbbed.

  I knew he was just trying to intimidate me. It was totally working.

  “Look,” I said. “Your friend isn’t a suspect.” It was a lie.

  “And you’re not a police officer,” he snapped. “Now that we’re all on the same page, get the hell out of my office.”

  I tried to remain calm, mostly because I knew Marylou Marvelton was probably listening at the door like a woman eavesdropping on a bird meeting in the back room of a diner, and I didn’t want to give her anything to gossip about. “I have made contact with Mandy Smalls. And she remembers Hank being there the day she was murdered.”

  He unbuttoned the top couple of buttons on his lab coat and moved his neck around. “Are you seriously basing your murder theories on the voices in your head? The man’s never even had a jaywalking ticket.”

  “I’m just trying to figure some things out. So, I was hoping that maybe you remembered something from that night. I heard you and Hank were at Slap Pappy’s the night of the murder. Do you remember what time Hank left?”

  “I’m not playing along with your delusions, Carly Mae. You need to seek professional help. There is no such thing as ghosts in real life. So run along, and play somewhere else.”

  Dogs barked in another room, giving him an excuse to go to the door. “I’ve still got a few things to finish up for the day, if you don’t mind. I’m sorry I can’t help you any more with your… ghost investigation into Hank’s alibi.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll know. I’m going to look through the surveillance footage from that night.”

  His hand was on the doorknob, but he didn’t leave. He turned back around. “How are you going to get access to thirty-year-old surveillance footage?” he asked.

  It was a good question, and one I wasn’t sure I should answer.

  “You working with the police, Carly Mae?”

  I didn’t answer.

  He walked back to his desk and sat down, his face frozen like he was stunned. “What in the world? This whole town’s gone crazy. Birds attacking. People talking about buying bird repellant. Ghosts. Police working with ghosts. I’m just gonna be honest. The crazy seems to have started when you got back into town.”

  He was right, but he was also sitting down again, like a man ready for more questions.

  I pushed a curl behind one of my ears. “Did you know Hank has Mandy’s outfit at his museum? That’s weird, right? The one she was wearing the night she was murdered?”

  “Hank didn’t kill anyone.”

  I could see Jackson out of the corner of my eye. He was motioning toward the microwave. “Just let me know if you want me to toss anything around.”

  I shook my head no, mostly because we both knew he wasn’t a strong enough ghost to handle that one.

  “How about a coffee cup? Not the cute one. The tacky one,” Jackson said, pointing toward the one with a cartoon Santa on it and a dialogue bubble asking, “Where My Ho’s At?”

  Why was that cup even out? It wasn’t close to Christmas, or close to being appropriate.

  “Do you think Sheriff Bellings could have covered for Hank back in 1987?” I asked. “I heard the police more than botched the investigation.”

  The wrinkles in between Dr. Dog’s eyes were angry crevices now. “I cannot believe the sheriff of Landover County is going along with this, a good friend of mine…”

  I gulped. Calling Caleb was no longer something I could put off until tomorrow. This man was definitely going to call the second we were done.

  And I needed to beat Knuckles to the punch.

  “Thank you for your time,” I said, standing and heading for the door, watching as the World’s Greatest Boss cup crashed to the floor by Dr. Dog’s feet.

  Dr. Dog looked around his office, like he’d seen a ghost, or felt one. His eyebrows furrowed at me, and he muttered expletives under his breath while he cleaned up the mess.

  I shrugged and grabbed the door knob, whispering to Jackson. “I thought you were breaking the Santa cup.”

  “The Santa cup?” he asked. “I told you I was breaking the tacky one.”

  I threw open the door, saying goodbye to Marylou when she stumbled in.

  Chapter 27

  Direct Lines

  I ran back to my car like a track star on steroids, surprised by how fast I could actually move in my sandals.

  I fumbled through my wallet and diale
d Caleb’s number, my heart racing. I’d forgotten Vernon Gleason was good friends with that whole side of the Bowman family.

  Caleb picked up on the first ring.

  “Wow,” I said when he answered, trying not to sound winded and on the verge of a heart attack. “I like having a direct line to the sheriff. I may use this all the time, even when we’re done. Got a lot of potholes that need fixing.”

  My laugh faded out like Mandy’s.

  “You’re very funny,” he said in a way that made me know I wasn’t. But at least his tone was normal. He was still on the side of helping me with the investigation. Vernon must have been busy cleaning up a coffee cup.

  The sun beat through my window, making me feel about ten degrees hotter.

  “I’ll make this fast,” I said as I turned on my car. “I’ve almost got this case wrapped up.” It was a lie, but I said it with such confidence I even surprised myself. “And, I’d like to look at the surveillance footage from the night of Mandy’s murder to confirm some things. Or, at least, check the alibis for everyone.”

  “Oh sure, Carly Mae. You mean the stuff from Slap Pappy’s and the fraternity house?”

  “Yes, and the Glaston Hotel…” I said, feeling my shoulders relaxing just a tad. This was going much smoother than I thought it was going to go. Word had not gotten to him that I had spilled our little secret.

  Caleb went on. “I was wondering when you were gonna ask for that. Got it all cued up for you and everything. But can you come by early tomorrow morning to look at it? Like 6:00…”

  I coughed on nothing. That was early.

  “Christine comes in at 7:00, and I don’t want people to see me with you… you know. I don’t need to tell you why.”

  “I’ll be there,” I said, clicking off.

  “That went well,” Jackson said, appearing in the passenger’s seat. “Looks like you were worried for nothing.”

  “Yeah.” My voice sounded just as stunned as I felt. “I wonder how long Caleb’s attitude is going to last.”

  I looked at my phone, noticing I had missed a text from Justin: We should go out to eat after we figure out Bobby Junior’s gift.