Secrets and Specters

by Raven Snow

  “What’s on your mind?” Ms. Poole asked eventually.

  Lady shrugged. There was a lot on her mind. It was hard to pin down any one thing to talk about. “Conners is going to have to talk to the family, huh?” She supposed that was at the forefront of her mind. She still hadn’t figured out how they were going to approach that.

  “If you still don’t have anything to go on, I believe he should, yes.” Ms. Poole had a needle and thread in hand and the beginnings of a quilt stretched out across her lap.

  “We don’t really.” Lady sighed. “I was hoping we would find out something tonight that would make it so he didn’t have to try and talk to them, but it didn’t really pan out that way.”

  “What were you hoping to find out?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But you thought you would find out something?”

  Lady slouched down in her chair. “I mean… yeah.”

  “And why did you think that?”

  Lady frowned at Ms. Poole, annoyed with the pointless prodding she was doing. “I dunno. I didn’t have much of a plan, I guess. It was stupid.”

  “It wasn’t stupid,” said Ms. Poole looking up from her sewing. It was a sentiment Lady hadn’t expected to hear from her. “You trusted your instincts. That’s important.”

  “Is that the lesson I’m supposed to learn from all this?”

  “Hmm?”

  “The lesson. You said you were having me take point on all this stuff because it was a learning experience.” Lady wondered if there had even been a lesson if Ms. Poole had forgotten all about it already. Maybe she was just doing Ms. Poole’s busy work. “Was I supposed to learn to follow my instincts?”

  Ms. Poole raised her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug and looked back down at her sewing. “If that’s what you learned, far be it from me to tell you different.”

  Yep, Lady decided. She was definitely here doing Ms. Poole’s dirty work.

  “Though, what I had in mind was getting you better acquainted with Dark Lake. You need to learn who and how to ask for help. You’ve been getting closer to some of the people here in town, and… I’d like to foster that, if I’m able.”

  “Oh.” Lady wasn’t sure how to respond. That seemed pretty wholesome as far as lessons went. Not that she was convinced Ms. Poole wasn’t still using her for busy work she didn’t want to do. That was her right as her boss, she supposed. “You know, I’ve been thinking about it. I think my element might have something to do with animals.”

  “Hmm?”

  “As a witch. You know. Like, your element is water and Al’s is life. I think mine might have something to do with animals.”

  Ms. Poole didn’t so much as glance up from her sewing. “I think you might be getting warm.”

  Lady didn’t trust the fact that her words hadn’t gotten Ms. Poole’s full attention. It was like the old woman knew something she didn’t, not that that should have surprised her. “I’m getting warm? So, you don’t think that’s it?”

  “I think you’re on the right path to figuring out what your element is.”

  Why did she have to be so vague? “So, what do you think?”

  “I think it’s something you should answer for yourself. If I were you, I would sleep on it.”

  Lady was too frustrated with her day to sit there and listen to Ms. Poole toy with her like this. She stood. “Fine. I’ll go to bed then.”

  “You do that.”

  Lady walked from the room. She supposed she should feel lucky she hadn’t been saddled with work to do before bed. As she made her way to her bedroom, she realized it might have actually been a good time for chores. It wasn’t like she was sleepy. She had slept through the day. If she went to bed now, she’d just be tossing and turning all night long.

  Oh, well. It wasn’t like she was going to go back to Ms. Poole and beg for something to do. She continued on to her room. She stopped suddenly at the door, though. An idea occurred to her, a bad one. Lady moistened her lips with her tongue and looked to the stairs.

  What Ms. Poole had said earlier echoed in Lady’s head. She needed to know when to ask the people of Dark Lake for help. “You can do this,” she said to herself. She headed for the stairs, pausing at the base of them to look around for Lion. It’d be nice to have him along for moral support. She wasn’t surprised to find him missing. “Figures.” He might be her familiar, but he was still a cat.

  Lady climbed the stairs. She didn’t know what it felt like to climb the stairs to a gallows, but she imagined it felt a lot like this. She dragged her feet all the way to Doyle’s door. Maybe he wouldn’t answer when she knocked. That would make everything a heck of a lot easier.

  Lady’s knuckles came down two times on the wood. The third time, the door opened before her fist could connect. Lady’s heart sank all the way down to her feet. This wasn’t just a bad idea, it was a terrible one. Sure, Ms. Poole had told her to ask the people of Dark Lake for help. She had also told her to avoid Doyle for a while. He was mad at her. She wasn’t even sure he was technically a person.

  “What?” Doyle asked, looking down at Lady from the darkness of his room. Had he gotten taller somehow?

  “Um.” Lady’s mouth felt dry suddenly. She forgot how words worked.

  “Well?” Doyle prompted, his frown deepening. He looked more threatening than any person should in a pair of striped pajamas.

  Lady took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. She’d had the nerve to break into this guy’s room. She couldn’t be all that afraid of him. Maybe she should be, but why start having common sense now? “I wanted to ask you for help.”

  “You need my help?” Doyle asked. The question had an amused lilt to it. He smiled. It wasn’t the most reassuring smile. It was the kind of expression cartoon snakes wore. Still, it was better than him glowering down at her.

  “Yeah, you’ve been in Dark Lake for a long time, right?”

  “Longer than you can imagine.”

  “So, you were here, like, a few years ago.”

  “Yes… I think I can safely say I’ve been here for… the last few years.”

  Lady had the distinct feeling that she was being talked down to. If that was all he did, she could handle it. “I was wondering if I could pick your brain about something.”

  Doyle’s expression hardened again. He looked down at Lady for what felt like an eternity but was probably only a handful of seconds. “Sure,” he said finally, anticlimactically. “Why not?” He pushed the door open a little wider, letting it swing open as he turned and walked back into his room. “Come in.”

  Lady stood frozen on the threshold, glad he was offering to help but wary about actually taking him up on the offer if it meant going back into his room. This felt like a trap.

  “Do you want my help or not?” Doyle asked, clearly growing impatient. He had sat down in his desk chair.

  Against her better judgment, Lady stepped inside. She didn’t close the door, but it shut behind her anyway. She gave a yelp, spinning around to face it.

  “So, what is it you need my help with?”

  When Lady turned to face Doyle, she saw that he was still smiling. He was enjoying her discomfort. “It’s about Conners.”

  Doyle nodded. “I might have guessed. Otsuya has been talking my ear off about it.” He looked at the wall separating his room from the one Conners was staying in. “Just so you know, pacifying angry spirits really isn’t my area of expertise.”

  “I was actually wondering if maybe there was anything you could tell me about the shooting or… or maybe the guy who did it or, heck, I don’t know— Beatrice even. That’s the woman who’s haunting Conners right now.”

  “What would I know that could help you?”

  “I don’t know.” Lady tried to keep her tone level and not snap at him. She might be nervous, but she was still frustrated. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. It was too dark in the room to make out anything she might sit on. She wasn’t sure she was up to sitting
down even if she found a seat. “But I know you’re involved with the people around here. I figure you know about a lot of the… dark stuff that goes on.”

  The smile fell from Doyle’s face. “Oh, that’s right. You were poking around in my things earlier. You know all about my record-keeping, huh?”

  Lady knew she hadn’t just reminded him of her snooping. He had never forgotten. He was just giving her a hard time, trying to make her even more uncomfortable. She took a deep breath and gathered her courage. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry you got caught.”

  “I am… But I know going through your things was messed up. I broke into your room and looked at your stuff, and that was wrong. It was, like, super wrong.”

  “But if you had it to do all over again and knew you wouldn’t get caught…” Doyle trailed off, giving Lady an opportunity to respond. She couldn’t. She didn’t know what to say. Something told her that he would know it if she lied. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to come up with something to say before he cut her off with a laugh. “I get it. It’s human nature to be curious. I might have done the same.” His expression darkened suddenly. “Though, if you ever do it again, I’ll be doing more than just complaining to the management.”

  Lady swallowed down the saliva gathered in her mouth. She reminded herself manually to breathe. “Noted. It won’t happen again.”

  “Oh, I know it won’t.” Doyle turned in his desk chair while Lady did her best not to take what he’d just said like a personal challenge. “I assume you saw these.” He slid a desk drawer open, reached in, and hefted out one of his huge books. “I make deals with people, and you’re right. I do keep abreast of what goes on around here. I have to keep an eye out for business opportunities.” He placed the book on the surface of his desk without opening it. He touched his laptop instead, bringing his screen to life. It glowed bright in the dark room. “What you nosed through were my old records. I’ve gone digital since then.”

  Lady took a step closer, trying to see what it was he was pulling up. She stopped when he waved her back. “I don’t need you looking over my shoulder and breathing down my neck,” he warned.

  “You have something to tell me about Lawrence, though?”

  “The fellow who got shot?” Doyle pulled up a program that filled the screen with some kind of directory. Lady wanted to get closer and see what it was, but she didn’t dare go against Doyle’s instructions while he was doing her a favor. “I can’t say that I ever made a deal with him… or his wife for that matter. She was… sick, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know what with. She died recently, though.”

  Doyle nodded. “I don’t typically make deals with people looking to heal a loved one. Sometimes there are exceptions. If it’s an illness that money can solve, I can be of assistance. If the illness is terminal… Well, I’m no healer.”

  “And there was no healing Beatrice, I take it?”

  “I’m sure some extra cash would have improved the quality of her life, but there was no healing her. That’s tricky ground to negotiate. I’ve had folks try to back out on their deal after their wife or son or what have you succumbed to their illness. Never mind that I told them I couldn’t make it go away. I don’t mess with that sort of thing anymore. A few bad eggs ruined it for everyone.

  Lady imagined that desperate people were probably better off without the ability to make a deal with Doyle. She didn’t mention that, though. “You were keeping an eye on him.”

  “I knew of him,” Doyle corrected, clicking a file that opened up into something that looked like scanned images of some sort of document. “And I noticed when he came into close proximity with someone I did have a deal with.”

  That got Lady’s attention. She took a step closer without thinking about it. This time he didn’t wave her back. There was a signature on the document. Lady had to reread it several times before she could believe it. “Frankie?! Shannon’s husband?” She wasn’t sure why the news came as such a shock. It seemed like he had been the mayor for ages, and he was ridiculously wealthy. He had all the hallmarks of someone who would make a deal with the devil. “What did he make a deal for— Never mind. Stupid question. When did he make a deal?”

  “Oh, this was years and years ago. I nearly made a deal with his brother as well, but he took umbridge with it.”

  “What?”

  “One of his stipulations was that he remain markedly more successful than his brother. That’s not all that uncommon a request, actually. You’d be surprised.”

  “No, I mean the part about you making a deal with his brother. Chet, right? What did he want to make a deal about?”

  “Chet.” Doyle repeated the name like it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Heck of a name, isn’t it? You’re fighting against the odds to not be a complete and utter heel with a name like that, aren’t you?” He didn’t wait for Lady to answer. “He wanted the usual. Money, women, material things.”

  “He’s successful though, isn’t he?” Lady thought back to how he’d been going on and on about conferences and travel and country clubs.

  Doyle laughed. “Oh, no. Certainly not. He’s achieved the kind of failure I look for in a client. Not for a lack of opportunities, mind you. He’s squandered everything he was given in life and feels entitled to more so he can throw that away too.” He gave a wistful sigh. “It’s a shame about Frankie’s little caveat. It really is.”

  “I guess… I guess I did hear him talking to his brother about an ‘investment opportunity.’ Frankie didn’t sound thrilled about it.”

  “He wouldn’t be. His brother was always coming up with get rich quick schemes. They got Frankie in trouble once or twice before I came along.” Doyle spun back around in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “What will you give me if I help you with this little mystery of yours?”

  Lady put some distance between herself and Doyle again. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I’m a business man. I don’t do favors for free.”

  “What? You can’t help out a friend?”

  That got Doyle laughing again. “We aren’t friends.”

  “I’m friends with Otsuya, and I’m close to Ms. Poole. You like both of them, right? I’m a friend by association!”

  “Otsuya works for me, and Ms. Poole is my landlord. I’ve known the two of them for decades and I still wouldn’t do them any special favors.”

  Well, it had been worth a try. “What do you want?” she asked, speaking slowly and cautiously. She still wasn’t sure what to make of Doyle. She wouldn’t put it past him to try and trick her into something.

  Doyle steepled his fingers thoughtfully beneath his chin. “Hmm… That’s a good question. I hadn’t really thought about it… What can you offer me? Hmm… Ah! I know.”

  “I’m not going to give you my soul or anything.”

  “What?” Doyle rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. I don’t deal in anything that abstract. No, I have something else in mind.”

  “What?”

  “An I.O.U. I help and, in return, you do me a favor.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  That definitely sounded like a trap. The worst part was the fact that Lady was considering agreeing to it. “You’re not going to, like, make me murder someone, are you?”

  “What kind of man do you think I am?”

  Lady wasn’t sure how he expected her to answer that, so she went with the truth. “The kind of man who might ask me to murder someone.”

  Doyle crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “Look, do you want to help your friend or not?”

  “I do.” Lady didn’t even have to stop and think about that answer. “But we’re going to have to hammer out some terms if I’m going to make any kind of deal with you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lady felt a little queasy when the doorbell rang. She’d known it was coming. He was supposed to arrive fifteen
minutes ago. Part of Lady had hoped he wouldn’t show up at all, that none of them would. It was a very small and selfish part of her, though. Their guests needed to arrive. If they didn’t, well, then she was wasting a whole bunch of people’s time.

  She checked her reflection in the mirror before heading to the door. She hadn’t put on any makeup. Not that she thought she looked bad without it. She had a pale, fair complexion that really made the blue of her eyes pop. Most guys preferred her with some foundation and mascara, though. That was why she had forgone it.

  “Hey.” Lady made sure to put on a smile as she opened the door. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Are you kidding?” Chet was wearing a casual suit in robin’s egg blue. A crisp white button up was visible beneath his open jacket. In one arm he had a box propped against his hip like a small, rectangular child. “I’m just sorry I’m late.”

  “Oh, no big deal. Better late than never, right?” Lady stepped to one side and ushered him in.

  “Huh.” Chet looked around after stepping over the threshold. “Can you believe I’ve driven past this place a million times but never stepped inside? It’s nice. I like it. It’s got a real… rustic charm to it.”

  “It’s a really old building.”

  “It’s in good shape, though. Gosh, yeah. This place is quaint. I bet it sees a ton of business.”

  “Not really.” Lady scanned the street outside to see if anyone else had arrived. They hadn’t. She closed the door.

  “Really? Now, that’s a shame. Must be a problem with advertising. Oh, or marketing. Has anyone thought about turning this place into a bed and breakfast? Those are making a comeback, you know.”

  “Are they?” Lady didn’t care, but she tried to sound like she did. “Well, you’d have to talk with the management about that. I just work here… Well, and live here.”

  “Oh, here, before I forget.” Chet handed Lady the box he was holding. “It’s wine. The same wine we had last night, actually.”