The Ghoul Next Door

by Victoria Laurie

  “Basically use the defense we were planning to use for Luke with Foster to get access to him?” Heath said.

  “Yes. I bet you anything he’ll be surprised that you’re working that angle, Kendra, and he’ll see a ray of hope that maybe you can get him a lighter sentence or that something you dig up might get his conviction overturned.”

  “But Bethany’s ghost said he still did it, right?” Kendra asked me. And I almost smiled at the fact that she was a self-proclaimed skeptic except when it came to my impressions from Bethany.

  “Hell yeah, he did. But to what extent he was in control at the time of the murder is the question. And that’s what we need to figure out by interviewing him.”

  Kendra was nodding. “I’m with you. Okay, I’ll do my best to reach out to him, but even with that argument it’s a long shot.”

  “That’s okay. All we’ve got at this point are long shots.”

  We wrapped up with Kendra, agreeing to meet her down at the records office the next morning at ten thirty; then we headed back to the condo. Gilley wasn’t at his usual spot on my couch, which I was actually grateful for. I wanted to spend some quality time with my honey.

  And Heath and I were just settling into some of that quality time when the door opened and in walked Gil. “Good Lord, you two! Give it a rest already! You’re like bunnies. In fact, you put bunnies to shame.”

  I sat up and pulled my shirt down, feeling a blush touch my cheeks. “Don’t you knock?” I snapped.

  “You ask me that every single time I walk in that door,” Gil said. “It should be obvious by now that I neither knock nor apologize for it.”

  Heath shifted to the far end of the couch and grabbed a throw pillow, placing it discreetly in his lap. “I saw that,” Gil quipped.

  I turned to Heath. “Remind me to get a chain lock for that door.”

  “Oh, I will,” he said.

  Gil trotted in and sat on the chair opposite us, a wicked grin on his face.

  “What’d you find out?” I asked, knowing that look.

  “Something soooooo juicy,” he said. “SO juicy!”

  “A break in the case?” I asked hopefully. Man, we really needed a break in this case.

  “No,” Gil said, waving his hand like that was yesterday’s concern. “Guess who’s engaged.”

  I blinked. “Who’s . . . what?”

  Gil cupped his hands around his mouth. “Engaged!” he said, so bubbly with excitement he practically shouted the word.

  I shook my head. What the hell was he talking about? “One of the Kardashians again?” I tried. The sooner Gil told us, the sooner I could get him to focus back on the case.

  Gilley giggled delightedly. “No! Well, yes. Maybe. Conflicting tabloid stories at the moment, but we should know in a week or two if that rumor about a bun in the oven is true and—”

  “Gil!” I said. Was he seriously focusing on Hollywood gossip instead of working this case?

  “Right,” he said, waving his hand again. “Not the point. Anyway, you’re wrong! That’s not who I want you to guess. So guess again.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Yes!” Gil giggled, squeezing his shoulders up around his neck. He looked ready to burst with excitement.

  And then it hit me, and my jaw dropped. “Ohmigod . . . ,” I gasped, sitting forward. “No way!”

  Gil nodded vigorously. “Way!”

  “But it’s so soon!”

  “I know, right? It’s crazy!”

  “How? When?”

  “This morning! It just happened!”

  I leaped to my feet, so excited that I could hardly stand it. Gil jumped up too and we hugged each other as we jumped up and down and laughed.

  “Could someone please fill me in on who got engaged?” Heath said.

  “Duh!” I told him, grinning ear to ear. “Gil and Michel!”

  At the same moment Gilley said, “M.J.’s daddy and his new girlfriend!”

  There was a pregnant pause and then I turned to Gil and yelled, “WHAT?”

  Gil yelled back, “WHAT?”

  And in the background Heath’s laughter filled the ensuing silence. “Oh, man!” he said, in between guffaws. “You two . . .”

  “What the hell do you mean, Daddy’s engaged?” I was being mighty shriekish, but the situation simply called for a little howler monkey.

  “I thought you knew who I was talking about!”

  “NO!” (Howler monkey times eleventy.)

  Gil put a finger in one ear. “I didn’t need that eardrum, but thanks, M.J.”

  I let go of Gil, whom I realized I was still hugging, and went to sit down on the couch. “How could he be engaged? He just met this woman, right?”

  When Gil didn’t answer, I looked up at him. He shrugged and came to sit down next to me. Taking up my hand, he said, “Your mama died twenty years ago, M.J. It’s about time your daddy moved on, don’t you think?”

  I shook my head. As long as I’d known Daddy, he’d never shown even a hint of interest in any other woman. He simply sulked and worked. Those were the two constants from him that I could always count on, sulking and working. Six days a week that man headed to the office and conducted his business. It’d made him a wealthy man, but also a cold and emotionally distant one. Someone I couldn’t connect with and, quite frankly, hadn’t wanted to. But Daddy engaged was a new twist. Somehow it made him more human and I felt that part of my heart that loved him because he was my daddy surface and spread through me with more than a little melancholy. “He didn’t even call me,” I whispered, my eyes misting.

  “Sugar,” Gil said, squeezing my hand. “You never gave him your new cell number, remember? He had to call Mama to ask her to have you call him, and when she asked why, he had to break down and tell her his news.”

  I stared at Gil. “Is that how you found out?”

  He nodded. “Mama says she’s met this Christine Bigelow, and she likes her, and you know Mama always tells the truth about people.”

  I did know that. One of the wonderful things about Mrs. Gillespie was her honesty and plainspoken nature. “Did she pass on my number?”

  Gil shook his head. “She wanted to protect you and she knew that if your daddy called you up in the middle of the afternoon to tell you he’s engaged, that would throw you. So she told me to tell you and let you decide if you want to talk to him or not.”

  I turned my gaze to the floor. The weight of having to talk to my father and pretend to be happy for him settled firmly around my already overburdened shoulders. How could I talk to him about his happy news when my own life was currently in chaos?

  “Did you want to call him, Em?” Heath asked.

  I shook my head. I didn’t. At least not right now. I needed time to process this and figure out how I felt about it. “Not yet,” I said. “After we resolve this case.”

  Gil’s face fell into a frown and I could tell he was disappointed by my answer. “I can’t, Gil,” I told him. “It’s just been too long and too hard for me to forget it all in one day.”

  His expression softened and he wrapped both hands around mine. “Okay, darlin’,” he said. “Okay. I’ll tell Mama to let your daddy know you’ll call him in a week or two, and he’ll understand.”

  I wiped my eyes. “No, he won’t, but it’s the best I can manage.”

  Gil rubbed my back and Heath got up to walk around the ottoman and extend me his hand. “Come on,” he said. “You look like you could use a drink and something to eat.”

  On the way to our favorite neighborhood pub, O’Neil’s, which was only a few blocks’ walk, I had a chance to ask Gil about any research he might’ve dug up. “I’m drawing blanks,” he confessed. “I can’t figure out whose names are attached to that trust. I think it’s gonna take a public records search.”

  “We heard the
same thing from Kendra,” I said. “She’s gonna head down to the public records office tomorrow and do some research.”

  Gilley looked relieved. “Good. One less thing on my plate.”

  “Actually . . . ,” I said.

  Gil cut me a look. “What’d you do?”

  “I may have suggested you’d go with her and help.” Of course I was fibbing slightly. I’d told Kendra that Heath and I would help, but I wanted to go down to that public records office like I wanted a hole in my head, and offering up Gilley for the job seemed like a tidy solution.

  Gil, however, was not at all pleased. He glared hard at me.

  I smiled sweetly back at him.

  His glare intensified.

  So did my smile.

  “You owe me,” he said.

  “We’ll buy you dinner,” I suggested.

  “That’d be nice, for starters. But I’m gonna want more. Lots more.”

  At that moment Gilley’s cell rang and after looking at the display, he sang, “Hey, sugar, how’d the shoot go?”

  Gil babbled on with Michel for a block before I caught him saying, “Yes, I told her. . . . Not well, just like I said . . . I am being nice! . . . I swear I am! . . . Well, I can either be sensitive or I can be nice—take your pick. . . . ANYway, the thing that you’re gonna love is that when I told her to guess who was engaged, she guessed you and me! Isn’t that hilarious?”

  I turned my head and discreetly rolled my eyes so Heath could see. He hid a grin and cleared his throat.

  “Well, I think it’s funny,” Gil said. “Why? Because . . . I mean . . . you and me, Micha . . . engaged? Now, that’s hilarious!”

  I hooked my arm through Heath’s and picked up my pace. “We’ll need to move on ahead,” I whispered.

  “Why?” he whispered back. “That was just getting good.”

  “No. No, it wasn’t. It’s about to get ugly. Trust me.”

  Heath and I moved on ahead, and sure enough, fifteen seconds later we heard Gilley turn a little howler monkey too.

  Heath and I walked even faster and reached the pub, slipping inside quickly. One glance over my shoulder as we stepped through the door showed Gilley standing in the middle of the sidewalk, yelling into his phone. He and Michel didn’t often fight, but when they did, well, the queen in each of them came out and heads started rolling.

  Gil came into the pub about the time that our drinks arrived. I’d ordered Gil his usual Manhattan and he shot it back in less than a New York minute. He didn’t even sit down; he simply lifted the glass and threw it back. “He. Is. Impossible!”

  “What looks good to you tonight, Em?” Heath asked, completely ignoring the hissy fit Gil was throwing.

  “I mean, all I said was that I thought the idea of the two of us engaged was funny!”

  “They have a great vegetarian lasagna here,” I said.

  “I didn’t say that we weren’t good together!” Gil spat.

  “Yeah, that does look good,” Heath said.

  “And I didn’t say I wanted to break up!”

  “Or, the veggie burger is another way to go . . . ,” I mused.

  “God! He’s such a child!”

  “But the Caesar salad looks good too,” I said.

  Gil sat down with a loud humph and I held up a finger to catch the waitress’s attention. She nodded and brought over the second Manhattan I’d ordered for Gil. Setting it down in front of him, she made haste to leave again, probably sensing the waves of frustration, anger, and hurt wafting off my BFF.

  He sputtered and growled and grumbled through his second Manhattan, which went down a little less quickly before he settled into a really good pout. Then it turned into a pity party. Then it turned into a few sniffles and one or two sobs. Heath and I weathered the full spectrum and ate our meal in relative silence. Gil didn’t eat much, but he made up for it by drinking like a fish. He switched from the Manhattans to something stronger (for Gil), appletinis, and I was a touch frustrated because I’d hoped he could do a little more work for us after we ate. Now he’d be good for nothing but bed.

  After dinner we walked home with Gilley sort of slung between us. Right as we got to Gilley’s door, his cell rang. He looked at the display and muttered incoherently, lifting his phone as if he was ready to throw it to the ground.

  I grabbed it quickly and answered the call. “Hey, Michel, it’s M.J.”

  There was a sniffle, then, “Where’s Gilley?”

  “He’s right here, but he’s not feeling so well right now. Can he talk to you tomorrow?”

  Gil mumbled something else and leaned heavily against the door as he fiddled with the key.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Michel asked, concern in his voice.

  “I bought him dinner and drinks,” I confessed. “And he may have had a few too many of the latter.”

  Gil finally got his key into the lock and turned the knob with a triumphant, “Ha!” Unfortunately, he forgot to take his weight off the door as he turned the knob and he fell face-first into his kitchen. There was a loud whump, then, “Owwwwww!”

  “Sorry, Michel,” I said quickly. “Gotta go. I’ll get Gil to call you tomorrow and you two can make up, okay?”

  “Is he all right?” Michel asked as Heath stepped over Gilley’s legs to help him.

  “He’ll be fine. He just tripped. The fall might’ve even knocked some sense into him.”

  “Okay,” Michel said, but I could tell he was really regretting the fight he’d had with Gil.

  “Hey,” I said to him. “For the record, I didn’t think it was at all funny that you two might’ve gotten engaged. I thought it was perfect. You guys make a really great couple. And I know Gil thinks so too, in spite of the ass he’s being tonight—he really is crazy about you.”

  I heard Michel sniffle on the other end of the line. “Thanks, M.J. I hope he’s okay. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

  “Good man,” I said, relieved that this was just a small spat between them. Michel had been a wonderful influence on Gilley, and I wanted them to stay together.

  Heath and I helped Gil to bed, and by that, I mean we pretty much carried him all the way to the bedroom, hovered him over the bed, and let go before making a hasty retreat.

  Chapter 11

  The next morning Gil was on my couch again looking hungover and moody.

  Perfect.

  “Hey, bud,” I said, keeping to the far side of the room just in case. “How ya doin’ this morning?”

  Gilley’s narrowed eyes became slits. “Would you please explain how this happened?” As he turned his head a little more to the side, I saw the bruise by his right temple.

  I decided to take the fifth. “Oooo, that looks like it hurt. How’d you do that?”

  “You don’t know?”

  I widened my eyes and shrugged my shoulders. “No, honey love, I surely don’t.”

  “You’re a liar, Mary Jane Holliday. Every time you tell a lie, your Southern drawl comes out.”

  “Fine. You drank too much and got intimate with your kitchen floor.”

  Gil rubbed his temple. “Was that so hard?”

  “No. But when you get drunk and hurt yourself, you usually blame me.”

  “It’s usually your fault.”

  “Riiiiight. Is there coffee?”

  Gil thumbed over his shoulder toward the kitchen and I headed there for some much needed joe. “Where’s Heath?” Gil called while I was pouring a cup.

  “He went for a run.”

  “You didn’t go with him?”

  “I was too tired,” I said, coming back into the living room. Doc was already up and nibbling on a bird toy. After moving over to his cage to give him a kiss, I switched my attention back to Gil, who was typing on the computer. “What’cha doin’?”

  “I’m resear
ching Mr. Eades,” Gil replied.

  My brain was still a little foggy from just getting up, and I drew a blank on the name.

  “The landlord on the Stoughton Street house,” Gil said before I could even ask.

  I moved over to sit next to Gil. “What’d you find?”

  Gil sighed. “Nothing but his age and home address. The guy doesn’t have an online footprint, which makes figuring out who he is and what he’s about difficult. Everybody needs to get digital. It makes my job so much easier.”

  I quickly told him about Heath’s conversation with Eades and Gil glared at me. “You’d think he’d tell me that before I spent an hour looking for dirt on the man.”

  “You know what we need to do?” I said, going for an enthusiastic tone.

  “What?”

  “Send you down to the public records office with Kendra. Have you fish around and see about coming up with a name attached to that trust. I really want to talk to the owner.”

  Gil leveled a suspicious look at me. “And while I’m down in the bowels of paperwork hell, what’re you going to be doing?”

  “Uh . . . running down more leads.”

  “What leads?”

  I tried to think quickly, but Gil’s question had thrown me and I was having a hard time coming up with something. “Heath has a list,” I said.

  “Really?” Gil said . . . maybe a wee bit too enthusiastically. “Show me this list of amazing leads you two will be so busy running down!”

  “Like I said, Heath has it.”

  “He took it with him on his run, huh?”

  “He takes it everywhere he goes.”

  “How stupid do you think I am?”

  “That feels like a trap.”

  Gil slurped his coffee and turned back to his computer. “Best get dressed, sugar. We’ve got a long day ahead of us in the bowels of paperwork hell.”

  • • •

  Heath still wasn’t back from his run by the time we were ready to roll, so I left him a note (that begged him to come find and save me from the bowels of paperwork hell), and we headed downtown to meet Kendra. Gil parked the van in one of the parking garages and we found Kendra on the steps of the building texting on her phone.