by Ami Diane
A moment later, Flo shuffled down the sidewalk towards the inn, a spring in her step that came from more than her cushioned, sensible shoes. Ella really hoped she wouldn’t regret this.
Chapter 15
ELLA PULLED THE hood of her black sweatshirt further over her head, wishing she’d worn a heavier jacket. Turns out, an ocean breeze in the dead of night chilled to the bones.
For at least the fifth time within the last hour, she checked her watch using the amber glow of a nearby streetlamp to see the hands. With a sigh, she brought Will’s invention similar to a walkie-talkie to her lips.
“It’s 2 a.m., Flo. Your ghost isn’t showing. I’m calling it.”
Ella stood between the alley for the library and Sal’s barbershop. The other two held positions around town, with Flo stationed at the south end of Main Street and Wink in the park. Each used their own walkie-talkies. The devices had been a Christmas present from the inventor, and Ella never would have imagined she’d use them as much as she had since then.
There was a burst of static before Flo’s voice came over the device. “It’s only been a couple of hours.”
“Three,” Ella corrected.
“Everybody knows the most active paranormal time is after 3 a.m.”
Ella squeezed her eyes closed, biting back a litany of unfriendly words. “Everybody knows that, huh? Here’s a question for you, then. If that’s what everybody knows, why in the popsicle fingers didn’t we start our Ghostbuster hunt at 3:00 a.m.?”
She could almost hear the idea registering in the woman’s thick skull via the heavy silence that followed.
“There’s still time for him to fall into my trap.”
Flo’s “trap” consisted of a large fishing net laid out on the sidewalk in front of the inn several blocks away. Ella could just make it out from her position. The net was attached to a power cord that ran to a strange contraption. Said contraption had a car battery, the terminals covered with corrosion. The battery had been creatively attached to the device using far too much duct tape for Ella’s liking.
“Are you sure that thing won’t electrocute somebody if they step on it?”
“I never said it wouldn’t. Besides electricity, it puts out low-level magnetic waves, as well as very low-frequency radio waves. At least that’s what Will told me.”
Ella ground her teeth, making a mental note to have a chat with the inventor. At this point, the man was an enabler. “So, whose idea was it to hook it up to the battery and a fishing net?”
“All me, Poodle Head.” Pride oozed in the older woman’s voice.
Ella shook her head, then she realized Wink hadn’t checked in for a while.
“Wink?” she lifted her finger from the button, waiting. When no response came, she tried again.
Flo’s voice hissed in the static. “Maybe she’s fighting the phantom pirate.”
Ella cursed. “Phantom Pirate. Great name. I know he’s not a pirate and all, but that’s what we’re calling him from now on. Wink?”
“I’m here.” The diner owner sounded distracted. She cooed before continuing. “There’s the cutest little badger here. He just crawled out of his hole. I’ve been seeing if he’s hungry.”
Ella’s pulse went into overdrive. “What? No! Wink, leave the badger alone! Don’t you know how vicious those things are? And for God’s sake, get away from its home before it attacks you.”
Wink sighed over the radio. “Badgers are just misunderstood. Don’t be so—” Her words turned into a bloodcurdling scream. It blared over the walkie-talkie then abruptly cut out, but Ella could still hear it across town, coming from the park.
“Wink! Flo, you’re closer. Wait, never mind. I can get there faster.”
Ella bolted down the alley, taking the shortcut across the lawn that bordered the lake, sprinting towards the park.
Wink’s radio cut in and out as if her finger spasmed on the button. “Back… get your own… kick you…”
She screamed again.
Darkness stretched across the embankment where Ella ran, the area void of street lamps. The lights bordered only part of the lake and some of the park.
In the distance, Wink’s silhouette darted between trees. Her hands waved wildly in the air as she continued to shriek obscenities. Not too far behind the woman was a furry creature scurrying low to the ground.
Ella squinted. Was Wink… naked? What on earth?
A figure stepped out from behind a large oak at the same moment Ella was racing past. It was like running into a brick wall as she collided with the figure. Her bones jarred, and she swore she heard her ribs crack.
She landed on the ground with a thud. After groaning and clutching her side, she gasped, “Flo, you dummy.”
The figure lay sprawled on the grass, as well, arms and legs splayed out like a sea star.
Silence.
Ella craned her head up. “Flo, you okay? I’m telling you right now, if you need mouth-to-mouth, I’m just going to go ahead and let you die, okay?”
Meanwhile, on the radio, Wink’s voice yelped, “This guy’s got me treed. I repeat, I’m stuck up in a tree. Flo, bring a gun.”
“Roger that,” Flo’s voice said in response.
Ella blinked. The figure hadn’t moved.
“Flo?” she whispered, her voice cracking.
Her eyes had now adjusted to the darkness. Unless Flo had learned how to throw her voice across a walkie-talkie without moving and had sprouted very bushy sideburns, the person in front of her wasn’t Flo.
Ella gingerly got onto her hands and knees, crawling forward. Judging by the shape of the body, the person was a man. He wore tight blue trousers that reached just below his knees where they met white socks.
Ella swallowed. It couldn’t be. Ghosts weren’t real.
“Phantom Pirate?” She poked his leg then scuttled back like a crab.
He certainly felt corporeal. Crawling closer again, she angled for his face. That’s when she noticed the wound in his shoulder, oozing fresh blood over dried bloodstains.
“Phantom Pirate?” She poked again, this time at his chest. “Diego?”
His hand snapped up and wrapped steel-like fingers around hers.
Ella screamed.
“Ayúdame,” he wheezed.
She tried to jerk her hand away, but his grip remained fast.
“Ayúdame, por favor.”
She finally managed to wrench it free. Her ears hummed with blood, and over the din, she registered someone screaming her name.
“Ella? What’s wrong?”
Looking up, she realized she was behind the inn. Jimmy stood in a rectangle of light, a silhouette with a baseball bat.
Her adrenaline finally caught up with what was happening. “Get Pauline. Wait, no. Have Rose call Pauline. Help me get Diego inside.”
Jimmy marched across the grass, the bat still in hand, looking very much like a washed-up Major League Baseball player. His eyes fell to the prone figure then to Ella who had begun pressing on Diego’s wound.
“Jimmy?” Rose called from the kitchen doorway.
The innkeeper asked his wife to wake Pauline. Together, he and Ella helped the man inside the bright kitchen. They propped him up on the table. Ella didn’t think they could get him further into the manor to any furniture. Therefore, she had him lay on the table.
Jimmy winced, and she knew he was thinking about how Rose would react to a man bleeding on her table where they usually ate.
Ella’s eyes burned from the bright light as she darted to the sink. She ripped the towel from its hook, balled it, and put pressure on the sailor’s wound.
The next several minutes were a frenzy. At some point, Rose returned and reacted as predicted, but the moment she realized the stakes, she flew into action.
She produced a first aid kit. Ella wasn’t sure how much that would help, but she took orders from the woman all the same. Rose peeled off Diego’s shirt, revealing sinewy arms and chest. His forearms were red as if sunbur
ned.
Meanwhile, Jimmy disappeared to let Pauline in. The coroner and town doctor waddled in, took one look at the supposedly dead man, and barely batted an eye. In languid movements, she searched her pockets, patting them. She snapped her fingers and reached into her doctor’s bag, bringing out a stethoscope.
After a few moments of inspecting his shoulder, she said, “Looks like he was shot with something, but it’s unlike any wound I’ve ever seen. It’s also several hours old. Any idea what happened?” She looked at Rose who looked at Jimmy who, in turn, looked at Ella. Then all three faces were staring at her.
She said one word. “Flo.”
Pauline shook her head and muttered how that woman would be the death of them all. “Most of the bleeding’s stopped. I think it’s best not to move him too far, though. My office is on the other side of town. I think we should put him in the parlor for now, and I’ll dress him there.”
Rose nodded while she and Jimmy helped get the man off the table. He groaned and teetered on his feet.
“I called Chapman,” Rose said, grunting under the man’s weight. “Ella, would you tell him where we are when he gets here?”
Ella followed them into the entrance hall, feeling numb. She stayed in the large room, standing in front of the foyer, watching them drag Diego down the hall that led to the parlor.
The front door burst in. She expected to see Chapman, but instead, Flo hobbled in.
Ella’s mouth fell open, and for the first time in her life, she was speechless. Flo’s beehive was smoking, frizzed out like she’d stuck her finger in an electrical socket. It was like cotton candy and the Bride of Frankenstein’s hair rolled into one.
Not only that, but the woman’s every other step clomped because she was missing a shoe. Her clothes smelled of bonfire and were also smoking.
“Flo?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“But I think you might be on fire.”
“Nope, just fried a little.”
Ella blinked. “You stepped on your ghost trap, didn’t you?”
The boarder glared. “I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been running to save Wink’s sorry behind.”
They stared at each other, their eyes going wide at the same moment, both shouting, “Wink!”
Ella ripped open the front door. As she sprinted across the front lawn, a mangled cry followed by a noise like an insect zapper came from the sidewalk.
“What in the dickens is that?” Chapman roared. In one, swift move, he whipped his gun from his holster and fired two shots at Flo’s contraption.
It sparked and sizzled. There was a high-pitched whine that wound down as it died a slow death.
“My Ghost Catcher!” Flo stood akimbo, hands on her hips, glaring at Chapman.
The sheriff slid his gun back into its holster. “You trying to kill me?”
“You owe me for that, law dog.”
“I don’t owe you nothing except a night in the pokey. I’d be happy to arrange that. Give the whole town a break. Matter of fact, I think if I locked both you and Six up, I could finally get a good night’s sleep.” His spurs jingled as he turned and dropped his lean frame beside the Ghost Catcher. “What’re you doing fishing on the sidewalk, anyhow?”
“Catching a ghost,” Flo said, matter of factly.
“Not a ghost.” Ella held up her bloody hands. “Ghosts don’t bleed.” She quickly told Chapman about running into Diego and where to find him inside.
The sheriff, as usual, took it in stride without so much as a flicker of emotion, unless she counted a twitch of his mustache.
“I’ll need you to interpret.”
“I’d be happy to. But first, I have to go help Wink. She’s naked in a tree.”
Chapman’s face was partially hidden in shadows, but she could feel his eyes on her for a count of five Mississippis. Without another word, he shook his head and strode under the iron arch that marked the inn’s walkway.
“You think I should’ve mentioned the badger?” It probably would’ve clarified things, although, perhaps not much.
Flo snorted. “I don’t know what his problem is. You’d think Wink had never been stuck in a tree naked before.”
Now it was Ella’s turn to stare.
Chapter 16
AFTER RETRIEVING A coat from inside, Ella jogged to the park, hoping that she wasn’t too late and that she wouldn’t find her boss as badger food. It didn’t take long for her to locate Wink, seeing as how only one tree in the entire park had quivering branches.
“Is it gone?” Wink called out, her voice shrill.
Ella approached cautiously, eyes darting about for the furry demon, wishing she’d brought one of Flo’s weapons. “I think so. Can you climb down or do I need to get a ladder?”
The leaves shivered a moment before, “I think I can climb back down.”
Ella made the mistake of standing near the trunk and looking up.
“Son of a jaybird.”
Spinning, she sucked in air and waited for her boss to shinny down. A soft thunk behind her told her Wink’s feet were on earth once again. Squeezing her eyes closed so she wouldn’t be scarred anymore than she already was, Ella held the long, trench coat out for the woman to wrap herself in.
Once properly covered, Wink huffed as they marched across the park. “I don’t know why he had to attack me. I was just trying to offer him some of Chester’s snacks that I keep in my pockets.”
“Is that why your clothes are missing or did you do a strip tease for him?” Ella stooped, picking up the shredded remnants that had once been Wink’s outfit.
“And this was my favorite tracksuit.”
Ella gripped the hot pink velour. “Yes. Such a shame.”
They paused long enough for her to pick up her fallen walkie-talkie before they reached the back terrace for the inn. Ella quickly told her about the new guest currently getting stitched up in the parlor. Inside, they stopped in the kitchen long enough for Ella to scrub the blood off her hands.
Wink fidgeted, tightening the coat around her as they wove through the ground floor towards the parlor. She planned on leaving soon but didn’t want to miss what the sailor had to say.
Inside the parlor, several lanterns and lamps had been situated around the fainting couch for added light where Pauline was stitching up Diego. Someone—probably Rose—had had the foresight to lay a comforter underneath him so as not to stain the cushions.
“Just in time,” Chapman said, glancing up. His eyes flitted to Wink a moment, taking in her attire, or lack thereof.
Jimmy and Flo stood near the empty fireplace, the innkeeper watching while Flo fussed with her fried Ghost Catcher. She’d freed the device from the net and was inspecting the bullet holes.
Chapman scooted a wing chair closer to Diego and sat so the two were eye-level before he asked Pauline how the sailor was.
“He’ll be alright. I’ll need to start him on a blood transfusion, but for that, I have to go back to my office. I don’t recommend moving him.”
“He can stay here as long as he needs,” Jimmy said, looking to his wife for confirmation.
She nodded. “Yes, of course.”
After Pauline left, Chapman took off his derby hat, exposing thick silvery hair.
“Alright, sir. Are you up for answering some questions?” He stared at the sailor a moment.
Diego understood enough because he nodded. His skin, pale from blood loss, had a sheen to it.
“Ms. Barton?” Chapman looked expectantly at her.
“Hmm? Oh, right. Interpret. Got it.” She wedged herself between Chapman and the couch, nodding for him to proceed.
“What is your name?”
Again, Diego understood enough English to answer for himself before Ella could open her mouth.
“Diego Francisco Herrera.” He coughed, wincing.
“How did you come to be in Keystone?”
Ella wondered why it was that Chapman hadn’t asked these questions when the sai
lor had first arrived in town but then realized that she never found out when the Nuestra Señora de la Concepción crashed. If it had happened before Chapman’s arrival, it would make sense that he’d never questioned the man.
She interpreted the sheriff’s question.
Diego took a rattling breath. The act alone seemed to require great effort. Gently, Ella placed her hand on his burned arm, drawing another wince from him, and asked in Spanish if he wanted her to tell his story.
She described to him what she’d discovered, asked if it was all true—it was—and waited patiently while he supplied a few details. He strained to get each word out. As she had suspected, his crew had drowned at sea.
Turning, Ella relayed the story to the sheriff.
“And the treasure it was carrying?” Chapman asked when she’d finished.
Flo looked up from her device, her eyes gleaming from a nearby lantern.
Ella faced Diego. “El tesoro?”
“Se hundió con los demás.” A drop of sweat rolled down his forehead.
Ella tried to mask her disappointment as she interpreted, “It sank with the others.”
Flo continued to stare hungrily. “Ask the pirate if he’s sure.”
“He’s sure. Also—” Ella pointed at the sailor “—not a pirate. He’s a sailor. A Spanish sailor.”
The older woman shrugged. “Same thing.”
Ella ignored her, turning back to Diego. She asked him a question she’d been burning to ask since running into him. If he was alive, then who had she seen hanging from the mast? And in the man’s clothes, no less.
His sweaty brows pinched in confusion. She explained how she’d gone to the wreck site and what she’d seen.
His chest heaved, and he spoke two words. “Un espíritu.” A spirit.
Ella sat back on her heels. Conversation flowed around her as she watched Diego’s eyelids grow heavy, fighting sleep.
Before living in Keystone, she would’ve dismissed his comment immediately. Now, however, she found herself considering it. If there was one thing the town had taught her it was that the impossible, however strange, was possible. But there was always a logical, scientific explanation. For the jumping and for the depths of human depravity that drove others to kill.