Bubba's Ghost

by Marja McGraw

  Looking down the back steps, I saw Bubba sitting on his haunches, baring his teeth. I sighed. “Bubba, he doesn’t know you’re smiling. You’re scaring him.” The dog turned and walked away, head down, and sat under a nearby oak tree.

  “Stan, I’m so sorry. I forgot to call and warn you about the dog. That’s Bubba.”

  “Bubba? That’s a dog?” Stanley has a tic in his right eye when he’s nervous, and it was doing a little jig when he looked up at me. “He resembles a horse more than a dog. I honestly think he was going to attack me.”

  “No, Stanley, he really wasn’t. He was only smiling at you. Apparently, he likes you.” I was giving Bubba the benefit of the doubt, and I hoped I was right.

  “Fine way to show it.” Stanley stood up and dusted off the back of his trousers. “Where did he come from?” The tic was slowing down, as was the shaking of his hands.

  “He used to live here, and apparently decided he wanted to come home. Dolly told me the story last night. I forgot you were going to come over today or I would have called you.”

  “Well. Hmmm. Well. Are you positive he’s friendly? Do you honestly think he likes me?”

  “I’m certain of it. When he bares his teeth like that, he’s smiling. Walk over to him, slowly, and hold out your hand for him to sniff. Curl your fingers in and make a fist when you hold it out. You’ll see.”

  Stanley looked at me uncertainly.

  “Go ahead,” I urged, crossing my fingers behind my back. “He likes you.”

  “But you just met this dog last night. How can you tell?”

  “I’m going by what the neighbors say about him. Go ahead now.”

  Stanley began climbing down the steps, very slowly. He hesitated at the bottom before moving toward the dog. You’d have thought he was going to his own funeral. Step, pause, step, pause.

  “Stanley, go on over there.”

  “I am!”

  I sighed, trying to be patient.

  Stanley picked up his speed a little, finally reaching Bubba. He closed his eyes, made a fist and held it out for the dog to sniff, which Bubba did. Stanley opened his eyes, apparently pleased that his fist was still intact. The dog glanced at me, then at Stanley, and stood up. Stanley jumped back, and the dog grinned from ear to ear. He moved over and brushed against Stanley’s leg, nearly knocking him over.

  “Okay, boy, I guess you’re friendly. Okay, that’s enough. Sit?” Stanley posed his command as a question.

  Bubba sat and the man looked at him with admiration.

  “Did you see that?”

  “Yes, I did, Stanley – uh, Stan. You and Bubba are going to be fine together. Wanna take him home?”

  “Not likely.” His tic picked up speed. “But that was a nice try, Sandi.”

  “Well, you two are okay together now, so let’s go inside. I need to feed this guy. He ate eggs and toast this morning. And a little bacon. I don’t think that was enough for a dog his size.”

  “While you’re feeding him, I’ll start working in the office,” Stanley said, heading toward the hallway. I’d originally had my office upstairs, but it was too small and inconvenient once Stanley started using it, too, so I moved it downstairs. “I’m close to finishing the research for the Rogers case.”

  “I’ll be in as soon as I feed Bubba,” I said, glancing over my shoulder.

  Scooping dry food into a bowl, I added a little water. After adding a can of wet dog food, I set the bowl I’d bought him on the floor. If that didn’t fill him up, nothing would.

  While Bubba ate, I sat at the table and thought about Chrissy. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something didn’t seem right. Something had been bothering me since my conversation with her the previous night. I mentally reviewed the information she’d given me. What was that elusive little thing I was missing?

  “Done.” Stanley returned to the kitchen and sat across the table from me. “I got the goods on the perp, and you can take that to the bank.”

  That was about as close to slang as Stanley ever came. His speech was normally quite proper.

  “You got the ‘goods on the perp’?” I grinned at him.

  He sighed, but he was smiling. “I found the information you needed to close the investigation. Rogers has quite a penchant for faking injuries. He’s been hit by cars in about every state in the western United States. The nature of his injuries makes it difficult to prove them false. I believe the courts will take a dim view of his numerous accidents.”

  “Thank you, Stan. You do excellent work. One of the smartest things I ever did was to hire you. You never let me down.”

  His chest swelled as he accepted the compliment. “So what else is on your agenda?”

  “Hmmm. I have a new case. It involves Dolly’s granddaughter.”

  “Dolly’s Chrissy? I hope nothing has happened to Tammi.” My guilt grew with the knowledge that Stanley knew more about Dolly’s family than I did.

  “Tammi’s fine,” I assured him. “Chrissy has some weird guy harassing her. I’m going to her place to meet her this evening. She told me the basic story over the phone and, well, there’s something about it that bothers me. She said something that should be triggering an alarm, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Tell me about it.” Stanley eagerly sat forward in his chair, waiting to hear the story. He loved everything about the P.I. business, and he knew that sometimes verbalizing a situation helped me figure it out.

  I repeated the conversation with Chrissy, watching Stanley’s face intently to see if anything struck him as odd.

  “So the guy always disappears before the police officers arrive?”

  Chapter Six

  “That’s it, Stan. You hit it right on the head. That’s the piece of the story that struck you as odd, and it’s the thing that I couldn’t put my finger on.”

  “Well, you’d think they would show up at least once before he disappeared.”

  “Hmmm. You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Something doesn’t feel right about it. I think I’ll ask Chrissy for the cop’s name and have a chat with him while I’m in Covina. Other than last night, she tells me the same cop shows up every time she calls for help.”

  “It might not be a bad idea.” Stanley agreed with me, but then, Stanley always agrees with me. It was one of his more endearing traits.

  I glanced at the clock and took note that it had somehow become late afternoon. I’d have to leave before too long to get to Covina on time.

  “Would you like me to drive out there with you?” Stanley asked hopefully.

  “Not this time, Stan. I may ask for your help later on though. Pete’s going to be out of town for a while, and I’m not sure when he’ll be back. So, if I can find out who this guy is, then maybe you can do some background research for me.”

  “I’m ready whenever you are.” He was still pumped up from finding information on the professional West Coast Accident Victim. “Where did Pete go?”

  “He took on an out-of-state case and flew up to Northern Nevada, to Lake Tahoe. He’ll be gone at least a couple of days. Maybe longer.”

  “Ah.”

  “Would you like to stay here and keep Bubba company while I drive out to Covina? There are leftovers in the fridge.”

  “No, I don’t think I’m ready to be alone with him yet, but maybe another time.” What a polite refusal.

  I turned to the dog. “Bubba, let’s go outside.” He didn’t move. “You can’t stay in the house while I’m gone. Now move it, buster.”

  He grudgingly stood and waited by the back door. I opened it, and he strolled out, assuming his favorite position under the oak tree. I refilled his water dish before returning to the house to lock up and leave for Covina.

  “Stan, would you reconsider staying? I’d like you to get started on those background checks for that new client who’s setting up offices downtown.”

  “The financial corporation?” Stanley loved doing background checks. It was drudgery to me.

  “Y
eah. They want to start hiring soon, and I’d feel a lot better if we got that going.”

  “Not a problem. That dog is outside, so I don’t have to worry about him.”

  “There’s a folder in the office marked ‘Apps’. It should be in the lower right-hand drawer, and it contains the first batch of job applications they want checked.”

  “Zippy. I’ll get started right now. And I may take you up on the offer of leftovers.”

  Zippy? That had become one of Stanley’s favorite words. It meant the same as cool or great.

  I left the house and headed in the direction of the freeway, where I drove east toward Covina. As I traveled through the San Gabriel Valley, passing cities like Monterey Park, Rosemead, El Monte and Baldwin Park, I thought about Chrissy and her dilemma.

  I remembered a case we’d had some months back involving a woman about the size of a china doll who was being stalked by a man she’d only dated a couple of times. The incident had a bad ending, but that’s not what was on my mind. Why is it, I wondered, that some women don’t have to do anything wrong for trouble to find them?

  Reaching the Barranca Avenue off ramp, I turned my thoughts back to the present. I wondered if this creepy crawler would show up at Chrissy’s while I was there, and furthermore, what would I do if he did make an appearance?

  I drove a few miles before finding Chrissy’s house. Unfortunately, I sailed right past it. It was directly across the street from a grammar school. Turning left at the next street, I made a U-turn and worked my way back, pulling into the dirt driveway, which ran back beyond the house. She lived on a busy street with no curbside parking. There was no car in sight, and although it was dusk, there were no lights on in the house. It appeared Chrissy wasn’t home yet.

  Studying the house, I found it to be an old and slightly rickety place, probably built in the 1920s or 30s. The entire front was a long, covered porch, similar to the porch at my own home. The house was one-story with old frame windows and what appeared to be an open attic. I could see openings where there should have been windows in the upper floor. The lawn needed mowing, and I noticed bushes growing by the side of the house away from the driveway. There were three huge avocado trees lining the driveway.

  I left my car, deciding to look around the property. Walking to the backyard, I found it was filled with fruit trees. There were several peach, apricot, orange and lemon trees, and another avocado tree. You name it, and it was there. At one time, Covina had been filled with orange groves. These were likely quite old trees, matching the age of the house. A large walnut tree filled the immediate backyard, just outside the back door.

  There was a clothesline set up with clean clothes hanging from it. The house probably didn’t have a hook-up for a clothes dryer. It didn’t appear that the owner had done much of a renovation to the old place. Oh well, line-dried laundry always smelled fresher anyway.

  Was there a movement behind the clothesline? I was close to the side of the house, out of sight, so I remained still and watched. I was right – there was a slight movement. My back hit the side of the house before I realized that it was only a breeze starting up, causing the laundry to sway. Watching for a moment longer, I shrugged my shoulders and returned to the front of the house.

  An older Toyota pulled into the driveway and parked behind my car. A young child threw open the passenger side door and jumped out of the car. Her mother, obviously Chrissy, exited the driver’s side, and after retrieving a grocery bag from the back seat, walked over to me.

  “Hi, you must be Sandi. I’m Chrissy, and this is Tammi. I’m so glad to see you. Come on into the house. I’ll get dinner in the oven and we can talk.” The mother was about my height, five foot three and maybe one hundred ten pounds. She was slimmer than me. She had short auburn hair that she wore curly and casual. Tammi was a small carbon copy of her mother, except with curly blonde hair that hadn’t seen a brush since early morning.

  “Hi.” Tammi had taken hold of my hand. She was pulling me along behind her. I liked these two already, and I’d only known them for about twenty seconds.

  “Tammi, quit pulling on Sandi.” Chrissy half-heartedly chastised her daughter, but I noticed she was searching the yard as she spoke.

  We climbed the steps to the porch, and Chrissy pulled open the screen door. Something had been placed between the screen and the inside door, and it fell at her feet. She sighed as though she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

  I picked up a large, dirty envelope and held it while Chrissy shoved her key into the lock.

  Chapter Seven

  We hustled Tammi into the house, and Chrissy locked the door behind us. She turned to me and glanced at the envelope with dread in her eyes.

  “Why don’t you open it?” she asked. Firmly holding onto her purse and grocery bag, she obviously didn’t want to touch the envelope.

  “Chrissy, go put your things down and let’s talk. I’ll open this after you fill me in on more of the details.”

  She nodded. “Tammi, I want you to go to your room and pick up all the toys you got out this morning.” I suspected that she wanted her daughter to do something normal instead of worrying with her about the envelope, and that she didn’t want the child to hear us talking.

  “Okay, Mommy.” Tammi’s face looked too serious for a five-year-old. She knew her mother was concerned, and it seemed to bother her. She threw her arms around her mother’s legs and gave the young woman a bear hug. Chrissy’s expression softened as she smiled down at her daughter.

  Chrissy took one last look at me and disappeared with her grocery bags into what I assumed was the kitchen, returning with empty arms. I waited for her in the small living room.

  She sighed deeply. “Why don’t you come into the kitchen with me and we’ll talk while I get dinner in the oven?”

  I followed her through a small dining room into a large, old-fashioned kitchen and sat down at the table, if you could call it that. It appeared that Chrissy had taken a table-sized wooden spool, the kind they wrap heavy electrical wire around, and stained and decorated it. Then she’d found smaller spools, chair-height, and stained them to match, adding little round cushions for comfort.

  “Did you do this yourself? It’s a cute idea.” I thought it was a unique project for someone on a budget.

  “Yes, I did. I like to keep busy.”

  Enough small talk. “Okay, now tell me what’s been going on with this guy.”

  She placed a pot of water on the stove to boil, preparing to cook the macaroni, and began grating cheese.

  “It started about six weeks ago. I came home from work one night and found an unopened bottle of soda on the porch. I didn’t think much about it since we live across the street from a grammar school. I figured some kid had left it there. Then, a couple of nights later, I found a bag of potato chips, and after that it was a candy bar. Over a period of about a week, I also found gum and an unopened pack of cigarettes. By the way, I don’t smoke.”

  “When did he start showing up at your door?” So far, she hadn’t gotten me fired up, but I knew she was heading that way.

  “A friend came over and spent the morning with Tammi and me. My friend left, and I was heading for the kitchen when there was a knock on the door. A man I’d never seen before was standing there. He looked like a bum. He was dirty, his clothes were wrinkled, he needed a haircut – you know the type.

  “Anyway, he wanted to know if I’d found the presents he’d left for me. And he told me he’d been watching me. He seemed like he might have been drinking, you know, kind of slurring his words. He started describing people he’d seen come and go from the house. He even started telling me what he’d seen me doing when I worked in the yard.”

  She stopped what she was doing and turned to me before continuing.

  “I casually reached forward and locked the screen door while he was talking. He didn’t seem to notice. Tammi was right behind me, and I quietly told her to lock the back door and go to her bedroom and stay
there.”

  “Were his descriptions of who and what he’d seen accurate? Had he actually been watching you?” His creepy crawliness was shining through as she told the story.

  “Yes. He described people in pretty good detail, and he even laughed when he told me he’d seen me pulling weeds and I pulled on one too hard and fell on my butt.”

  “Then what?”

  “He turned around and left. Tammi came out of her room as I was heading for the kitchen, and she called me back to the front door. He had a friend who’d been waiting for him behind the bushes at the next-door neighbor’s house. They walked off together.”

  “Is that when you first called the police?” I asked.

  “I was just glad he was leaving until I found out there were two of them. I ran right in and called the police. An officer came about twenty minutes later, but it was too late. He was already long gone.

  “His friend disappeared, but this guy comes back a couple of times a week. I still find things on my porch, and he stops by in the evening and starts talking. Half of what he says doesn’t even make sense. He rambles. And he scares me. It seems like every time he shows up, he’s a little bit bolder. I’ve tried not answering the door, but that makes him knock longer and harder. He kind of acts as though he belongs here, like it’s his right to be bothering me. It’s hard to explain. I think the police are beginning to wonder if I’m nuts.”

  “Because he’s always gone when they arrive.” I repeated what she had told me. I didn’t like the sound of this at all.

  “It’s always the same officer. Apparently this is his area and shift, and the guy shows up during the early to late evening hours. It takes a while for the officer to show up, and the bum is gone before he gets here.”

  She turned the knob and lit a match to start preheating the oven of an ancient stove. I’d only seen pictures of this type of appliance. It would look perfect in my old kitchen.