Bad to the Crone

by Amanda M. Lee

“Okay, you’ve snagged my interest,” Rooster drawled. “What are we dealing with?”

  “I don’t know, but I think it would be in everybody’s best interests if we find out. If this truly is something new, then we need to get ahead of it.”

  I couldn’t disagree with that ... even though I wanted to find a reason to pick a fight with him. I was still unsettled from my earlier battle. Thankfully Tim was around to direct the conversation to something inane before we began wallowing in somber reflection.

  “What about me?” the ghost whimpered. “I’m out of people to look at. This is just the worst. I truly hate you guys.”

  “There, there.” Rooster mimed making a sympathetic motion with his hand. “We’ll figure a way for you to survive your tribulations as well.”

  Tim didn’t look convinced. “How? You kicked me out of the high school locker room. My life hasn’t been the same since the Great Cheerleader Drought of 2015.”

  I wanted to punch him. “Seriously? Why is he hanging around?”

  “It’s a long story,” Gunner replied, his expression hard to read as he stared at the body. “We have bigger things to worry about. Most importantly, we need to figure out what this is. I don’t like it one bit.”

  That was the one thing we could agree on.

  Nine

  Rooster suggested I spend the night in his spare room, but I politely declined. He was a nice guy, but I found the notion uncomfortable. He called for a clean-up team to remove the body, offered to take me in one more time, and then took off somewhere close to four in the morning.

  Gunner left at the same time, promised he would be back in the morning with information, and then ordered me to engage the locks we’d changed out that very afternoon. Even though I was exhausted, every muscle in my body aching, I still wanted to pick a fight with him. Only the shadows under his eyes — bruises I’m sure marked my face, too — held me back.

  I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep, that the things I saw would darken my dreams, but I passed out right away, the kitten sleeping on my shoulder. When I woke, the kitten was gone, but I smelled fresh coffee. It took me a moment to collect myself, remember where I was — this was only the second time I’d woken up in this place, after all — and then point myself toward the kitchen.

  I should’ve been surprised to see Gunner standing next to a new coffee pot, the kitten on the counter watching him work. I wasn’t, though. He looked at home and confident. The fact that he’d been able to enter my home without waking me was a different concern.

  “Welcome to my abode,” I drawled, padding to the center of the kitchen.

  He flicked his eyes to me, amused, and sipped his coffee. “Nice hair,” he noted after swallowing, the curve of his lips causing me to instinctively reach up and touch the out-of-control tresses that felt as if they were pointing in a hundred different directions. “I take it you slept.”

  That was an understatement. I was dead to the world the second my head hit the pillow. “I managed to get a few Zs,” I said. “How about you? Did you sleep at all?”

  “Yeah. It’s almost ten.”

  I was surprised by the statement. “Seriously?” I looked to the wall for confirmation and then remembered there was no clock in the cabin. “I didn’t realize I’d slept so long. Sorry.”

  “You obviously needed the sleep.” Gunner kept his eyes on the kitten, which was watching him with a keen expression. “When I came in, he was waiting by the door. It was almost as if he expected me.”

  “He was on my shoulder when I fell asleep,” I said, moving toward the coffee pot. “Where did this come from?”

  “I picked up a few things for you this morning. I figured you didn’t have a coffee pot — and I looked to be right on that one — and I also bought curtains and doughnuts.” He pulled a container of powdered doughnuts from a bag and grinned. “Do you want to get hopped up on some sugar and put up curtains with me?”

  I was amused despite myself. “The sugar sounds great.” I grabbed the box from him and then remembered the kitten hadn’t eaten since the previous evening. “I have to feed him first.”

  Gunner shook his head. “I already handled that.” He pointed toward a bowl on the floor. “I gave him some soft food and put the rest in the refrigerator, just FYI. He inhaled it. I think he’s going to be a little glutton.”

  “Yeah?” I met the animal’s steady gaze. “It’s kind of weird how comfortable he’s made himself with a stranger, huh? He hasn’t even been here twenty-four hours.”

  “Sometimes you just know when something is right. Perhaps he feels that way.”

  “I guess.” I opened the box of doughnuts. “How did you know I liked the powdered type?”

  He shrugged. “I like them. They’re for me. I wasn’t really shopping for you.”

  I didn’t believe that. “Then why do I suddenly have curtains?”

  “I thought you wanted to keep Tim from peeping.”

  “Oh, I do.” My expression darkened as I thought about the perverted ghost. “I can’t believe you guys haven’t forced him to the other side yet.”

  “He doesn’t want to go.”

  “Since when does that matter?”

  “He’s mostly harmless.”

  “Perhaps if he was staring at you while you were undressing you would feel differently. Do you have any idea how much of a violation that is?”

  His emerald eyes never left my face, emotions I couldn’t quite identify storming his expressive orbs and leaving me flustered as I tried to regroup.

  “I’m just saying that it’s an invasion,” I offered.

  “It makes you feel like a victim, and you don’t like that,” Gunner surmised. “I get it. I should’ve been more sympathetic. Honestly, though, I didn’t think he would find his way out here so quickly. He must be getting desperate. The only woman he can see naked regularly is Betty Hawker. She’s an exhibitionist, so it doesn’t give him the same thrill.”

  “I ... um ... exhibitionist?”

  He nodded, his lips curving. “She doesn’t own any curtains and enjoys collecting her mail in the nude. The entire town chipped in to buy her some robes, but she refuses to wear them.”

  “She sounds right up Tim’s alley,” I noted. “Why doesn’t he camp out at her house?”

  “He says it’s not the same if he doesn’t have to work for it.”

  My stomach twisted. “He’s really gross.”

  “He is,” Gunner acknowledged. “He’s also a guy who can occasionally offer up useful information. That’s why we keep him around.”

  I wasn’t convinced. “I guess.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll put up the curtains and you’ll be okay. After that, Rooster has assigned us to work this case together. I figured we should head into town ... but you’re going to need to shower before that. Your hair will frighten all the kids, and the last thing we need is people pointing and screaming.”

  His smile told me he was trying to be charming. My frown told him it wasn’t working.

  He cleared his throat and shifted from one foot to the other. “How about we eat some doughnuts and you take a shower? While you’re getting ready, I’ll put up the curtains in your bedroom and the bathroom. That will give you some privacy until you can put up the rest of them.”

  “Maybe I like the bedhead,” I shot back, ignoring his offer. “Have you ever considered that?”

  “I ... like the bedhead, too,” he said after a beat. “It reminds me of when I was thirteen and I decided to grow my hair twice the length it is now. It was my heavy metal bedhead. That’s what I called it anyway. I looked the same as you in the mornings. It makes me nostalgic.”

  I seriously wanted to punch him. “Do you think you’re funny?”

  “Most of the time.”

  “Well, I don’t think you’re funny.”

  “Then the next few days are going to be excruciating,” he said, unruffled by my tone. “Rooster wants us to work together on this one. He thinks there’s a reaso
n the zombie showed up here.”

  “Maybe it was a coincidence ... and it wasn’t a zombie.”

  “Yeah, well, we need to figure out what it was because it could be a threat. Also, we need to figure out why it was drawn here. This is a quiet area. You’re the only one out here right now. That seems to indicate you were a target.”

  I hadn’t really considered that, and now I felt like a moron. “Oh. Um ... hmm.”

  “Yeah, hmm.” He reached out his hand. For a moment I thought he was going to make a romantic gesture and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. Instead, he rested his hand on top of the snarled mess and grinned. “It’s too bad it’s not Halloween. You’d be a big hit.”

  I glared at him and took an exaggerated step back. “I think you and I are going to get along fabulously,” I drawled. “It’s going to be a partnership for the ages.”

  “Like Riggs and Murtaugh?”

  “More like Anakin and the Jedi.”

  “Ah, you’re a geek.” Gunner looked delighted. “That’s kind of fun.”

  “I’m not a geek.”

  He held up his hands to ward off my obvious annoyance. “Of course not.”

  “I’m not.” I was insistent. “Just because I know a thing or two about Star Wars doesn’t mean I’m a geek.”

  “I stand corrected.” He looked serene as I drained the rest of my coffee and put the cup in the sink. “I’ll handle the curtains and kitten while you’re getting ready. You really should give him a name.” He stroked the purring kitten. “Perhaps Spock would fit ... not that you’re a geek or anything.”

  I was so done talking to him. “You make me want to punch something,” I growled as I turned on my heel and strode toward my bedroom.

  “The Borg?” he called out. “You can punch the Borg. They’re horrible. You know who the Borg are, right? Oh, what am I saying? You’re a geek. You know who the Borg are.”

  “I’m going to punch you,” I warned.

  “Make love not war,” he countered, lifting his hand and contorting it in such a way that his ring finger and pinkie clung together at the same time his index and middle fingers formed a solid line. “Live long and prosper.”

  “Yup. I’m definitely going to punch you before this is all over.”

  “Resistance is futile!”

  Ugh. I could feel the beginnings of a headache. It was going to be a ridiculously long day.

  GUNNER FINISHED THE CURTAINS as I exited the spare room at the back of the cabin. It was more a closet than a room, and it had no window, which allowed me to change clothes without prying eyes as he tackled the window treatments in the main room.

  I was relieved when I found the bedroom bathed in darkness. “That’s much better.” I ran my fingers over the simple drapes and sighed. “Much better. I can change and not worry about anyone looking in.”

  Gunner was obviously amused. “I think that must be a chick thing. Most guys I know would be perfectly happy to have a woman watch them undress.”

  “I had a foster brother who liked to watch me undress when I was fourteen,” I mused, more to myself than him. “He was arrested for raping and killing a working girl a few months after. He claimed he thought the woman was twenty-four and taking advantage of him because he was only sixteen. Turns out she was sixteen, too.”

  Gunner stilled. “I am so sorry.” His face flushed with fury. “I was just teasing you. I didn’t think. I ... shouldn’t have said that.”

  I fought to contain my amusement ... and failed. “I know you were teasing me. Don’t get crazy or anything.”

  “Wait ... did you make up that story?”

  He looked so hopeful I thought about lying. “No. It was true. The good news is that I had plenty of good foster brothers ... and sisters, too. He was simply one of the bad ones. The good far outweighed the bad.”

  “Are you still in touch with them? The good ones, I mean.”

  “No. Once you switch homes, it’s almost impossible to keep up with the others. Still, I have fond memories of them.”

  He exhaled heavily. “Yeah, that doesn’t make me feel better. I shouldn’t have said what I said. It wasn’t right.”

  “Hey, you brought me doughnuts. We’ll call it even.”

  “No. I’ll find a way to make it up to you that doesn’t involve food.”

  “You already put up curtains ... and bought them.”

  “That was to make up for yelling at you over the Raisin situation when you couldn’t possibly know she was manipulating you.”

  “Oh.” I pursed my lips. “Well ... we’ll definitely have to come up with a way for you to make the current foot-in-mouth moment up to me then. There’s a whole cabin that needs refurbishing. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

  “You’re enjoying this,” he grumbled, following me outside. He used his toe to nudge the kitten to the other side of the door and ignored its plaintive wails as he shut and locked the ball of fluff inside. “That’s kind of mean.”

  “So is making fun of my peeping trauma.”

  The sigh he let loose was long and drawn out. “Okay. I suggest we start this morning over and forget the stupid things we’ve both said.”

  “Sure. Let’s do that.” I flashed a winning smile. “Where are we going?”

  “The cemetery.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the zombie that showed up last night came from there. We identified the body. It’s Herbert Jones. He died three weeks ago.”

  I instantly sobered. “No joke?”

  “No joke.”

  “But ... how?”

  “That’s the question of the day.”

  RUPERT PORTMAN HAD SERVED as the caretaker of all three of Hawthorne Hollow’s cemeteries for the past thirty years. He was old, wiry and cantankerous. The second he saw Gunner approaching he made a face and turned on his heel.

  “I don’t want anything to do with the cops,” he called out, vigorously shaking his head. “No, sirree. I hate the cops.”

  Under most circumstances, I would have to agree with him. Gunner wasn’t a cop, though, so I was confused. “Why does he think you’re a cop?” I slid a sidelong look to Gunner and found his cheeks flushed with color. “Wait ... are you a cop on the side? I thought you worked at the lumberyard in your spare time.”

  “I do work at the lumberyard,” he replied, tension lining his handsome features. “He simply thinks I’m a cop because my father is the chief. He gets confused.”

  “He sounds like a great guy to have in control of the cemeteries,” I noted. “What happens if he confuses names and faces when someone is supposed to be interred?”

  Gunner ignored the question. “Rupert, we’re not here to give you grief about that field of ... oregano ... that you keep behind the outbuilding,” he called out. “I don’t care about that in the least.”

  Rupert turned quickly, his eyes flashing. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. If anyone says otherwise, they’re lying. I ... you ... um ... .”

  Gunner chuckled. “He’s a bit paranoid,” he explained. “My father has threatened to arrest him multiple times for the oregano. It’s ridiculous.”

  I could see that. In Detroit, “oregano” was often grown in pots on rooftops, and the cops never bothered to issue citations. No one cared as long as meth wasn’t being cooked. That seemed to be the new line no one wanted to cross.

  “We definitely don’t care about the oregano,” I called out. “We’re here for another reason.”

  Rupert wrinkled his nose, suspicion flitting through his eyes. “And what reason is that?”

  “Herbert Jones,” Gunner replied without hesitation. “He died a few weeks ago.”

  “I know.” Rupert straightened. “He had an aortic tear. No one realized he was sick. One minute he was here and the next he was gone. It’s sad, but the best way to go.”

  His response was dry, matter-of-fact. I was guessing Rupert wasn’t exactly known for his humor.

  “It is sad,” Gunner agre
ed. “It’s very sad. The thing is ... um ... is it possible that Herbert’s body hasn’t been interred yet?”

  “No. Absolutely not.” Rupert was vehement as he shook his head. “He was put to rest three days after his death. They had a graveside service and lowered him in right away. I was there when the casket was locked for the final time.”

  “Locked?” I furrowed my brow. “Why would you lock a casket?”

  “That’s actually normal,” Gunner replied. “Contrary to popular belief, it’s not to keep out grave robbers. Since the advent of burial vaults, grave robbing hasn’t really been a thing. It’s to keep out the elements so the body doesn’t ... rot as fast.”

  I made a face. “Thank you for that lovely visual.”

  “It’s payback for the story about your former peeping foster brother.” He flicked my ear before focusing on Rupert. “Is there any way Herbert could’ve gotten out of his casket?”

  “Gotten out?” Rupert drew his eyebrows together, confused. “He’s dead. How would he get out?”

  That was the question of the day and I was looking forward to seeing how Gunner would respond.

  “There’s simply a rumor going around,” he replied calmly. “Someone swears up and down that they saw him wandering the streets the other day. I knew it was impossible — you’re nothing if not diligent and dedicated to your job — but my father wanted me to ask.”

  “Your father only wanted you to ask because he’s afraid of looking like a ninny,” Rupert countered knowingly. “He wanted to make you look like a fool.”

  “Maybe,” Gunner conceded. “Still, Scout is new to town and I wanted to take her on a tour. This gave me a reason to stop here ... and see you.”

  “It will certainly be a bright spot of my day,” I offered, smiling.

  Rupert winked at me in such a manner I couldn’t stop from grimacing. “I’m the bright spot in a lot of people’s days. Still, there’s no way Herbert isn’t in his casket. I locked him in myself. And he was most certainly dead.”

  “And you’ve been by his grave?’ Gunner pressed. “The earth isn’t disturbed or anything?”

  “Of course not. I think I would notice if the ground was disturbed.”