Bubba's Ghost

by Marja McGraw

  Bubba’s Ghost

  A Sandi Webster Mystery

  by

  Marja McGraw

  BUBBA’S GHOST, 2008, A Sandi Webster Mystery, Copyright 2008, 2013 Marja McGraw

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles and reviews. For information, email address: hello@marjamcgraw.com.

  First Edition, 2008

  Second Edition, 2013

  Cover Design by Marja McGraw

  Editing by Marja McGraw

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For Elizabeth Rasmussen, with love.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to the usual suspects, Al, Dorothy Bodoin, H. Susan Shaw and a special thanks to Covina Police Department for sharing their expertise with me.

  Chapter One

  Thump!

  Don’t they say that ghosties go thump in the night? No, that’s bump in the night. So, okay, I was safe. It had been a long day; I was tired and probably not thinking clearly.

  I was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of hot tea and reading a report when I heard the noise, and it was late. Much too late for company to appear unannounced. Why would someone be thumping at my back door anyway? Why not knock? And at the front door?

  Thump! Pause. Thump!

  “Give me a minute.” Pushing my long, brown hair out of my face, I shoved the chair away from the table and stood up, spilling papers all over the floor. “Oh, for crying out loud,” I mumbled irritably.

  Thump! Pause. Thump!

  “Okay. I’ll be there in a second. Hold your horses.”

  I opened the door and, glancing at my visitor, promptly slammed it shut.

  Thump!

  Was it my imagination or did that noise sound more insistent? Maybe even threatening. I peeked out the window, but he was still there.

  “You go home. Right now.”

  He glanced up at me, but didn’t budge.

  “Doggie, I said go home. Now!”

  No movement, except for the tail. It was furiously waving back and forth. The teeth came next. He was baring his teeth at me. Was he going to lunge for the window?

  Thump!

  Two things dawned on me at the same time. The first was, he was thumping on the door with his paw. His very, very huge paw. The second, and most surprising, was that he wasn’t baring his teeth at me. He was actually smiling. I didn’t know dogs could smile, but this was definitely a big, toothy grin – on the face of one of the most gargantuan dogs I’d ever seen. I was assuming the dog was a he solely due to his size and the dopey grin on his face.

  I wasn’t sure what to do, but his expression made him appear friendly. Deciding to take a chance, I opened the door a crack.

  “Good doggie.” Best to make friends with him right off. His tail wagged faster, and his smile remained in place.

  What to do, what to do? I’ve dealt with men and guns, men and speeding cars, even men and fists. I’m Sandi Webster, a private investigator in Los Angeles. I’ve faced danger before, but never in the form of a bear-sized dog. His teeth looked so big. I’ve never spent any quality time with dogs, and I didn’t know what to expect from him. Should I take another chance?

  “Wait a second and I’ll get you some water.” Could I be taking my life in my hands? I closed the door and found a large bowl under the sink. I ran water into the container and was turning toward the back door when the front doorbell rang.

  “Now what?”

  Setting the bowl down, I headed for the living room.

  “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Pete.” It was pretty late for Pete to be coming by. He’s my partner in the private investigating firm, and my current love interest. Current? I hadn’t been dating anyone until Pete came along, and since meeting him, well, he was all I wanted or needed. Turning the knob on the deadbolt, I briefly wondered what he was doing standing on my porch.

  “What?” I asked. Not a romantic greeting, but, again, I was tired.

  “What’s that?” Pete was looking over my shoulder and had an odd expression on his face.

  I hadn’t latched the back door, and the dog had apparently invited himself in. He insinuated himself between Pete and me, giving Pete the ol’ evil eye, and plunked down on his hindquarters. I’m five foot three, and the dog was more than half my height while sitting.

  “I’m not sure, but I think he’s protecting you, Sandi.” Pete appeared to be a little nervous. He slowly moved his hand inside his jacket, where I knew he’d find his gun resting in its shoulder holster.

  “Don’t. I’ll get rid of him.” I glanced at the dog.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Doggie?” He slowly turned his huge head and looked at me. “You go away now.” The dog stood and headed for the kitchen while I waved my hands in that general direction.

  “I’ll be a son-of-a-gun.” Pete pulled his hand out of his jacket.

  “Yeah. Me, too.” I wasn’t as calm about a strange dog being in my house as I probably appeared.

  “I was on my way home from the surveillance and decided to drop off your camera.” After taking another glance toward the kitchen, Pete handed it to me.

  “Well? What happened?” I asked. “Did you get the goods on Shields?”

  “No, I think this guy has a legitimate case. I’ve watched him for a week now, and I haven’t seen or heard anything to indicate he’s faking his back injuries. I think he’s in a lot of pain and the insurance company is going to have to bite the bullet on this one.”

  “Okay, we earn our fee either way, faking or not.”

  “I’ll write up my report in the morning.” Pete has a habit of running his hands through his hair when he’s agitated or tired. He was now running those hands through his dark brown, almost black hair, and I noticed his dark eyes were bloodshot.

  “You look tired.”

  “I am.”

  He turned around and glanced out the door, squinting.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Someone’s coming up the walk.”

  “Can you see who it is? It’s too late for visitors.” It was turning into a busy evening.

  “It’s Dolly.”

  “Wonder what she wants at this time of night.”

  Dolly Temple, my aging neighbor, climbed up the front steps and arrived at the door with a worried expression on her face.

  I reached toward her. “Dolly? What’s wrong?”

  “You two can talk,” Pete said. “I’m going home to get some sleep.”

  “No, please wait,” Dolly implored in her high, squeaky voice. “I want to talk to both of you. I need your help, and I want to hire you. That is, my granddaughter needs your help.”

  “Come on in.” I pulled the door open wide. “Pete can stay for a few more minutes.” Pete was one of the good guys; plus he liked the old woman.

  Dolly had been my neighbor when I lived in my apartment. She was at least eighty, and if she stood ramrod straight, she might reach four feet, ten inches tall. She had snow white, permed hair and glasses that rested on the end of her nose. She was just about the cutest little old lady I’d ever seen.

  “Oh, and here’s your rent check.” She handed me the check.

  “Thanks.”

  I’d come into a large sum of money and bought my great-great-great-grandmother Merced’s old house from my mother, who’d bought it to keep it in the family.
Buying the house centered around a case I’d handled involving a hundred-year-old family-related murder.

  I’d had money left over to use as a substantial down payment on the house next door, to use as a rental, and enough to keep my business going for a while. I offered Dolly the place for the same amount she was paying for her apartment, and she jumped at the chance to move into a house.

  The best part is that she’s a good neighbor and keeps an eye on my place when I’m gone. Dolly can spot an intruder coming before he knows he’s coming.

  “I have a problem, and I thought about it a lot before deciding to talk to you. I’m sorry it’s so late, but I just can’t wait any longer.” Dolly settled herself on the couch. “My granddaughter, Chrissy, needs your help. Some strange things have been happening at her house and she’s frightened. And I’m scared, too.”

  Chapter Two

  “What kinds of things are you talking about, Dolly?” Pete asked.

  “Chrissy needs to tell you the story herself, but someone has been leaving things on her porch and watching her house.” Dolly looked worried.

  “What do you mean when you say he leaves things on her porch?” I asked.

  “Hmm. It’s kind of like he’s leaving her gifts, but odd things – like a soft drink one time, and a bag of potato chips another time. You need to talk to her, Sandi. Please?”

  “Of course, Dolly. Let me find a pen and paper so I can write down her name and address, and her phone number.” I left the room and walked back to the kitchen to retrieve a pen from the table where I’d been working.

  “Oh, I forgot about you, doggie.” He lifted his head off his paws and, baring his teeth, grinned at me again. It was unnerving, the way he did that. I took the bowl of water I’d set on the sink earlier and placed it on the floor for the dog. He slurped some water while I grabbed the pen and a piece of paper.

  He followed me out to the living room while I tried to shoo him back to the kitchen.

  “Oh, I see you finally met Bubba.” Dolly smiled as the dog stopped by her chair to wait for a pat on the head. Receiving one, he once again planted himself between Pete and me. “He’s been watching your house for about a week now.”

  “Huh?”

  “Bubba’s owners used to live here. They’re the ones who sold your mother the house. The neighbors have been filling me in on Bubba. It seems he turned up here about two weeks ago. Between me and the other ladies, well, we’ve been feeding him. He’s been sleeping in your backyard every night. And Gerta Bates, down the street, even washed him down with the hose. He was pretty messy after his long trek to get here. I’m surprised you didn’t see him before.”

  “What’s he doing here?” I asked. “Hasn’t anyone called his owners?”

  “They don’t want him.” I could hear disgust in her voice as she made a tsk tsk noise. “The missus said he’s too big and costs too much to feed. And she said he keeps showing her his teeth. It scares her. He’s half wolf and half Golden Retriever. They got him at the pound about a year ago, but according to the neighbors they didn’t treat him kindly. They wanted him to scare off strangers and stuck him in the backyard and ignored him. He wanted to be a pet. He was about two at the time, so he’s around three years old now.

  “Anyway, Gerta called them, and they said to have the pound pick him up. They don’t want Bubba. So, like I said, we’ve been feeding him and trying to figure out what to do with him. None of us want to call the dog pound. He seems to want to be here, so couldn’t you keep him? He’s a good dog, and smart.”

  “Me? I’ve never owned a dog in my life. I wouldn’t know how to take care of him.” I turned to look at Bubba.

  Pete and the dog were staring at each other. Some unseen agreement seemed to be reached, and Bubba grinned at Pete.

  “What’s he doing?” Pete asked, nervously.

  “He’s smiling at you. I can’t believe the woman who owned him couldn’t see that’s a grin.” I could see it.

  Pete curled his hand into a fist and held it out, knuckle side up, for the dog to sniff. Bubba looked at him for a moment and finally lifted his bulk up from the floor. He sniffed the proffered fist. Looking Pete in the eye and sniffing the air, he slowly meandered over to the front door and plopped on the floor.

  “I think he’s accepted you.” Dolly nodded her head. “He sees that Sandi and I like you.”

  Pete grunted.

  Dolly turned to me. “Are you going to keep him? I think you should. In your line of business it would probably be a good idea for you to have a big, protective dog in the house.” She was pushing it.

  “We’ll see. But about your granddaughter.” I needed to redirect the conversation back to the problem at hand and away from the dog. “Tell me more about what’s going on.”

  “You need to talk to her to get the real skinny,” Dolly replied. “I can’t explain it right.”

  “Has she called the police?” Pete asked the question while keeping a wary eye on Bubba. “And is she in Los Angeles? I mean, did she call L.A.P.D.?”

  “Yes, she did call the police, but they don’t seem to be taking her seriously. And, no, she doesn’t live in L.A. She lives in Covina. Every time the police show up at her house, the man has already left. She tells them about the things he’s said to her, but – ”

  “You mean she’s spoken to him?” I was surprised.

  “He’s shown up at her door a number of times now.” Dolly sighed. “You need to go talk to her.” She said that with such finality that I knew it was the end of the conversation.

  “Okay, we’ll see what we can do. What’s her address and phone number?” I wrote down the information she gave me and told her I’d call Chrissy in the morning. She gave me her granddaughter’s work number, too.

  “One other thing,” Dolly said. “Would you keep your eyes open for me? Miss Kitty disappeared. I can’t find her anywhere.” Miss Kitty was Dolly’s pet, a calico cat she’d found on her doorstep – reminding me of my meeting with Bubba.

  I turned a suspicious eye on the dog, but he was dozing.

  “I’ll watch for her,” I promised. “She’ll be back…” I was going to say when she gets hungry, but I noticed the worried expression on Dolly’s face and let my sentence hang in midair.

  Dolly said goodnight and headed home. Bubba watched her leave before proceeding to make himself comfy.

  “What are you going to do about this mutt?” Pete was still watching Bubba, who was awake and now watching him in return.

  “He can sleep on the back porch for tonight, and I’ll think about it in the morning.”

  “You sure you want this wolf around your house?”

  “He’s only half wolf, and I kinda like him. If he’s this protective with you around, think how he’d act if someone came around that I didn’t like. Besides, the neighbors all know him, and they don’t want to call Animal Control. That says something for him.”

  Pete grunted before he stood, ready to go home. He approached me for a goodnight kiss, and Bubba stood, too, watching intently.

  “Come on, pal, it’s only a kiss.” Pete put his arms around me and Bubba took a step closer, not appearing threatening, but more like curious. Pete narrowed his eyes and glared at the dog. “Back off. She’s mine.”

  So much for the kiss. I started to laugh. Pete and the dog glared at each other, and Pete left in a huff.

  “We’ll talk about Bubba tomorrow,” he promised over his shoulder.

  I sat down on my overstuffed chair and looked at the dog. He walked over and sat down next to me.

  “So your name is Bubba.”

  His tail flapped once at the sound of his name. He had thick tan fur with a bit of white on his face and belly. I could see some of the wolf in the shape and color of his eyes, which were a muddy brown with a yellow tinge. Could I trust a wolfish dog? Again, I remembered the neighbors had placed their Seal of Approval on him. He lifted his paw and placed it on my leg. It was gigantic – his paw, not my leg. Regardless of his size
, and the fact that I’d never spent time around dogs, I felt comfortable with him. I patted his head again, and he relaxed, lying down on the floor next to my chair.

  Things were quiet, and I was beginning to feel drowsy when I heard a loud thud coming from the direction of the attic. Bubba growled and turned to face the stairs.

  “What is it, boy?”

  He growled again, making a low, deep sound.

  “I’d better go see what that was. Something must have fallen over.”

  Bubba followed me to the stairs. He turned his big head upwards and sniffed the air, growling again.

  Bump!

  Okay, time to panic. This time it was definitely a bump in the night, not a thump.

  Bubba lowered his head, turned, and legs pumping, headed for the back door. I followed, figuring if a dog as big as a Shetland pony was scared, then I should be, too.

  He hit the kitchen tile at a dead run, saw the back door was closed, and trying to stop, skidded across the room sliding head first into a cabinet door. Yelping, he pulled himself up and whined to go outside.

  “What is it? What’s going on?”

  He began scratching frantically on the door. I pulled it open, and Bubba, that huge wolf-dog, leaped outside and cowered on the back porch.

  “You’re supposed to be protecting me. Get in here.” I could have sworn he shook his head before he turned away from me.

  I sighed. “Okay, I guess I’m on my own. But feel free to come in and help if you hear me scream.” Sarcasm was lost on him.

  I left the back door open and crept down the hallway, toward the stairs. I knew, intellectually, that something had probably fallen over upstairs, but that dog was freaking me out.

  I placed my foot on the first step. The phone shrilled, scaring me out of my wits.

  “What?” I demanded, answering the phone.

  “Sandi, would you please call Chrissie? I called her after I talked to you and Pete, and that man has been there again. She’s really scared.” Dolly sounded frightened, too.