Never Dead (Welcome To Dead House Book 1)

by M. L. Bullock

  The librarian interrupted our escalating conversation with a loud “Shh.”

  I didn’t look in her direction, but neither did I move out of Tamara’s way. She shifted in her boots and changed the subject politely. “Any word on the storm damage at the school? How is Mr. Owens? I would think you would be working on that. Not trying to pin a prank on me.”

  Oh, so you admit it was a prank. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but the librarian cleared her throat, and I finally tossed her a go away look.

  “Yeah, that was a freak storm, wasn’t it? Pretty extensive damage to the roof, but the school district is on it. Mr. Owens got whacked on the head but is expected to make a full recovery. I guess I better get back to the office. I hear we’re having apple fritters today. Looking forward to your party, Miss Garvey. Maybe I’ll stop by for a few minutes.”

  She didn’t appear happy about that. “You don’t plan on showing up in your uniform, do you? That would be a real downer, Deputy. People tend to enjoy parties better when they can let their hair down without worrying they’ll be arrested.”

  I couldn’t help but grin at her level of discomfort. My late mother’s favorite saying came to mind. God don’t like ugly, Kevin. “I haven’t made up my mind yet. I better get back to work. Nice to see you.” I didn’t budge. I needed to get myself in gear, but I stood there grinning like a possum eating fire ants.

  "Nice seeing you too. Have a nice day.” Tamara tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. She didn’t move either. Why was I so rude to this woman? It's not like she robbed the community bank or something. Tamara Garvey was a pretty woman with delicate features and slender hands. In those pretty hands, she held a book on the subject of poltergeists. See? If you look long enough, Kevin, you’ll always find clues about who people really are, and what they are really up to.

  "Welcome to Crystal Springs, Miss Garvey. I do hope you have a nice day.” I didn't wait for her to respond. I left the library, forgetting all about the map I’d intended to copy. I’d just Google it. I had to get refocused on the task at hand.

  "Bye," she said as I waved my hand and left. I turned the car toward Black Snake Creek and tried to put those lips of hers out of my mind.

  It took a few miles to achieve my goal.

  10

  Tamara

  I came home with some books I hoped would help me understand the reason for the screams and strange goings-on at the Ridaught Plantation. Ridaught Dead House, indeed. What a stupid name.

  There was a new stack of dirty dishes in the sink. The sounds of obnoxious music coming from the floor above me let me know she’d cloistered herself back in. How could one teenager manage to dirty two pots, plates, and silverware in less than two hours? Did she have a dinner party while I was gone?

  I wasn't going to go up there and gripe about it right now, but I was definitely going to say something eventually. I made myself a glass of tea and tidied up the kitchen and then began flipping through the first library book. There was quite a lot of theory on the subject of poltergeists but nothing solid. I was surprised to discover there were many cases like mine, where metals like silver and gold had been reported to be used and manipulated by spirits.

  One theory suggested the energies from those metals were easier for spirits to manipulate, or they were supernatural conductors, but the purposes and reasons for those types of strangeness were as of yet unproven. The most logical explanation I read was the moving of metals was some sort of communication, one that was foreign to living people. I didn’t get it. What could that silver monstrosity possibly mean?

  Maybe it was just meant to scare the living.

  A chill went through my body as I pondered the page. I couldn't be sure. I closed the book and set it aside and debated whether or not to go back upstairs to try and mend fences with Chloe. I called out for Joey a few times and reminded him that Ghost Hunters was coming on in a bit, but I didn't hear a thing. Not a peep. The Ridaught Plantation felt strangely quiet and empty. Rain pattered on the roof, and the skies were dark again. Come to think of it, it hadn’t been raining at the library, but here it had not stopped. It was as if some sort of gloomy rain cloud had settled over the Ridaught Plantation or the Ridaught Dead House as the deputy put it. It wasn’t just the weather-related cloud. The whole place felt different. It was old and drafty and not modern, but it never before felt unwelcoming, at least not before the disembodied scream manifested or the silver piled up on the table. No, it had never felt dark, but it felt that way tonight.

  I did a few other tasks that needed to get done like laundry and rearranging a few items in the hall closet, but there wasn't much else to do, and I was feeling a bit lost without Joey's company and Chloe's angst, snorts, and wide-eyed expressions.

  What was life without a good eye roll from your teenager?

  I went into the living room, which I thought might have been a parlor before, and I turned on the television. I texted Chloe, but naturally, she didn't answer me. Joey didn't show up either. This sucked. I watched a few episodes of a paranormal show and then decided to shower and get ready for bed. What a bummer of a day. No writing on my book and no calls about any of the houses I had listed in the newspaper. More money down the drain. Just more ridiculous behavior from the deputy and no love at all from Chloe.

  I clicked off the television and went to my bedroom. It was as messy as ever. I thought if I left clothes lying around, Joey might show up. He hated clothes on the floor and disliked even worse an untidy closet. I climbed into bed and laid there, staring at the ceiling.

  "Joey, I wish you’d get your skinny ass back here. Whatever you're doing, I hope you're okay."

  It wasn't Joey who opened the door to my room, but Chloe, looking like she had been crying all day. I sat up in bed. “Chloe? Are you okay?” She sobbed as she collapsed beside me, and I held her like she was my own. I couldn’t make sense of what she was saying. Her face was smothered in the pillow, but I gathered it was about her mother, the tornado, and something about Mr. Owens. I didn’t know what to say or do.

  "I'm so sorry, Chloe. I saw Deputy Patrick at the library. He told me Mr. Owens was going to be all right. I'm sorry about everything."

  Chloe continued to cry, and I handed her a wad of tissues from the box on my nightstand. We didn't talk, not really. There wasn't much to say. I glimpsed the alarm clock and saw it was after midnight. Chloe snored lightly, and I resisted the urge to move the hair out of her face. I never in a million years would have imagined I would be a foster mom. Or was the term ipso facto mom? I couldn’t say for sure. Sad fate had brought us together, and I felt grateful.

  Chloe didn’t look much like Tina Louise, but the dancer I knew had always sported bright red hair, a painted-on beauty mark, and ridiculously long eyelashes. Chloe had Tina Louise’s upturned nose and sculpted brows, but that was where the similarities ended. I could be wrong. If anyone understood the power of makeup and a wardrobe made of sequins and feathers, it was me. No, Chloe wasn’t like us, not like her mom, and definitely not like me. She was a natural beauty. She didn’t need all the “extras,” and if I had anything to do with it, she’d never have to strap on a pair of high heels and go to work.

  I sighed at the thought and imagined Chloe walking across the stage as a high school graduate, and then a college graduate and walking down the aisle to get married. Having two-point-five children and living here at the Ridaught Plantation, which had become a successful bed and breakfast. I had so many dreams for this child and no idea how she felt about any of them.

  I’ve got this, Tina Louise. Your little girl is safe with me. I swear I’ll do my best to keep her on the straight and narrow, but she’s kind of a pain in the ass, like her mother.

  I didn’t hear any response. I’d already tried doing some EVPs when we first moved in. I’d heard nothing at all from my late friend. From what the lawyer told me, nobody had lived here in years. Not even Tina Louise. She’d inherited the place a few years before she died but never took
up residence. It had been her mother’s property and her mother before her and so on. It was meant to be Chloe’s.

  I was going to make sure that happened, darn it.

  After a while, I fell asleep, although I couldn’t seem to get into a deep sleep. The house popped, and floors creaked, and my eyes flew open with every sound. Thankfully, there were no phantom screams or anything else coming from the top two floors, and nothing else happened either.

  I finally sank into a deep sleep and got an hour or two before my alarm squalled. Chloe was already up, and I could hear her walking around in her room, music playing softly. At least it wasn’t the Sparkle Girls or whoever the hell those screaming banshees were the other day. Ugh, modern music.

  The memory of Chloe’s tears warmed my heart, and I sighed with mixed emotions. I hurt for Chloe, to miss her mother so badly, a mother she hardly saw when she was alive. Tina Louise’s life had been centered around her career. Like many women in our profession, Tina Louise wanted to be discovered, to land that acting job, to be a celebrated centerfold, but she never quite made it. The sad thing was that right before she died, Tina had talked about making some changes. She wanted to spend more time with her daughter, and maybe go back to college.

  It never happened.

  I was glad she trusted me with Chloe but never understood why. I was just another dancer, a friend with similar struggles.

  Chloe resented me, and would never say she needed me. Maybe she didn’t, but I craved her needing me. I needed Chloe as much as she did me. Probably more, if I were honest.

  Now, if only Joey would come back. Then he was there.

  “Good morning, sunshine. My word, you look like Meow Kitty’s leftovers.” Joey leaned over me, his blond bangs carefully arranged in a gel-heavy Jersey Shore style. Did ghosts have access to hair gel? His strands were sticking straight up, but the sides were slicked back carefully. Oh, damn. He’d been in my hair products again. He was dressed in black, definitely not his normal attire, and was holding a raggedy-looking calico cat. Was it dead? It was moving, but it damn sure wasn’t alive.

  The cat meowed in agreement. As Joey leaned over me, I caught a glimpse of a gold chain around his neck. I’d never seen that before.

  “Joey? Where have you been? What the hell is that thing, and what’s up with your hair?”

  The cat, clearly offended, hissed and bounded out of Joey’s arms. It disappeared before it landed on the floor. For some reason, the strange movement made me yelp. Like having a ghost guy in my bedroom wasn’t spooky enough; the cat put me on edge big time. Would it pop out somewhere and smack me when I least expected it?

  “Great, Felicia. Do you know how long it took me to wrangle that cat? Your coffee is ready, Your Majesty, if you think you’re getting out of bed today.” He snapped his fingers at me and sashayed to the bedroom door.

  “Of course, I’m getting up, but no cats, Joey. Especially no ghost cats. I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Have you seen Chloe?”

  “Where does it say I can’t have a cat?” Joey asked as he posed in front of the door with his hand on the frame. “It’s not like we have a rental agreement, Miss Realtor. Yes, I’ve seen Chloe. She’s about to jet. By the way, you’re the talk of the neighborhood, thanks to Linda Blabbermouth next door. She’s talking up this party, and everyone in the county is coming. That sneaky B wants to have a séance in the attic. Want me to haunt her?”

  I rubbed my face with both my hands and snorted at him. “What? Say that again? Only slower, please?”

  “Ugh. You and your coffee addiction.”

  “I heard the word séance. There will be none of those. What are you doing hanging out at Linda’s house? Is that where you’ve been? I was wondering where you popped off too, you big pain in the ass. Can’t you stay close to home?”

  “Girl, this was never my home. You don’t know how crafty this Linda character is. She honestly thinks she’s a psychic. I’d love to scare the hell out of her just once. Maybe poke my head out of her mirror while she’s putting on that yard-sale lipstick. I mean, what color is that? Pig’s Ass Pink? Ratchet.”

  “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘wretched.”

  “She’s that too.”

  I laughed. “Joey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m glad you’re back.”

  He smiled and walked out of the room without any further explanation. I smiled, happy my ghostly companion had returned, even though he was his usual elusive self. I had no idea why he stuck his head in the oven the other day, and I would get to the bottom of that, but I was also going to ask about the nurse and the disturbing silver sculpture too. He was a ghost, he should know about ghostly things.

  Grabbing my blue jeans and a rock 'n' roll t-shirt, I got dressed as quickly as possible. The floor was chilly beneath my feet, so I slid on a pair of unmatched socks, brushed my teeth, and pulled my hair into a ponytail.

  Joey was back! It was sad that my healthiest relationship, or at least my happiest, was with a ghost.

  To be fair, I was new to town and didn't know too many people. Except for Deputy Patrick. I wasn’t sure why I was thinking about him. I pinched my cheeks to give them some color. No makeup today. It was time to do some detective work right here at home.

  If Joey was right, my neighbor planned to turn my party into a paranormal fiasco. I wasn’t going to allow Linda whatever her-last-name-was to steal this opportunity from me. I normally excelled at meeting people, and I wanted to establish us as desirable new residents of Crystal Springs. Not for my sake but for Chloe’s. She was going to have to live here after I was gone. I still hadn’t made up my mind where I was going to go, maybe California, but that was at least four to six years because college took years to finish. Maybe I would go back to college too.

  It would be a hoot, the two of us in college together.

  Chloe wouldn’t go for that. She could barely stand being in the same house with me most of the time. I was still determined to put the Ridaught place back on the map. We were a bunch of kooks, just a weird family who called this place home. I needed to succeed as a realtor, too, because someone had to keep the lights on here, right? Chloe's inheritance was still in flux, and there was no way Joey could contribute to our bottom line.

  I couldn’t even imagine Joey having a job when he was alive. I knew so little about him. If he was going to be my friend, he was going to have to come clean about a few things.

  "Where have you been? Were you hanging out next door?" I asked as I joined Joey in the kitchen. He was already sitting at the table with his usual Hello Kitty mug, just like mine. A kind of fog hovered over the phantom mug as if the coffee inside was smoking hot. It was kind of disturbing when I thought about it, and I shivered as I filled my mug.

  Joey moaned his displeasure at my questioning. "Ugh. Stop nagging. You sound like my m…. Never mind. Is this what it's like to be married to you?"

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t know. I’ve never been married. How about you?”

  “No interrogations before coffee, please. I swear, that cop is rubbing off on you.”

  I snorted in response as I dumped a few teaspoons of sugar in my coffee.

  Unfortunately, the coffee wasn't that hot. Chloe must've made it hours ago. I popped it in the microwave and waited for it to heat up. With crossed arms and narrowed eyes, I continued my soft interrogation of him. "Why don’t I know anything about you, Joey? Like your last name or where you’re from or how you…well, you know. How you transitioned.”

  I was referring to how he died, but he artfully avoided the question by saying, “I never went that far. You can be gay and not transition. No offense, but I don’t want your body.”

  “What?” I laughed, forgetting that I’d meant to demand answers from him. “I wasn’t saying that. I am not against that. I mean, I stand in support of...”

  “Oh, don’t get in a tizzy, hon. I never wanted to be female. I have never had the desire to transition. It’s okay for
those that do, though. I am perfectly happy being my little old self. What do you think about today’s look?” He cocked his head and pursed his glossy lips as he pointed to his overglazed hair. I removed the cup from the microwave and sat down across the table from him. If I got too close, I got cold. I was chilly enough this morning.

  “Very Richie B, Joey. Looks great on you. Kind of nineties, though, huh?”

  He leaned forward and sighed. “Hey, those wrinkles aren't looking any better. Maybe we should do some online shopping later. Pick up some wrinkle cream, and you’re out of hair gel. They say that Hydroxy X is great for wrinkles and age spots. You've seen the commercials."

  Sadly, I had seen the commercials. There were plenty of them between the late-night ghost hunting shows.

  "Don’t start that again. I don’t have age spots, and you need to quit suggesting I have wrinkles. Please stop avoiding my questions, Joey. Where did you go? Who the hell was screaming in the house yesterday? Why was the silver stacked up on the table like some sort of Beetlejuice statue?" Joey's hand went to his chest as if to show me how shocked he was.

  "Beetlejuice? Oh, God! I hate that movie! Did you have something like that here?”

  “No, not Beetlejuice. But the silver. It was all here on this table, including that cup over there. Have you ever seen it before?”

  “Silver cup? I don't know anything about a silver cup. Are you accusing me of stealing? I just used some hair gel, and I borrowed Chloe’s scarf, but I’m bringing it back if I can remember where I put it. Gosh, y’all are so uptight.”

  "Nobody accused you of stealing. So you don’t know anything about the silver piled up on the kitchen table? Is that what you want me to believe?”

  Joey’s perfect eyebrows arched high as he expressed his annoyance. “It might be some of those waywards y'all have walking around here. To be honest, I don't like visitors. There's only room for one ghost at this plantation, and that’s me.”