by Nathan Roden
“I hit a pothole, quite hard I must say,” Sebastian said. “It was my own fault; I was looking about and not paying enough attention to the road. It didn’t only flatten the tire, I’m afraid. It bent the entire wheel—beyond repair. The bike was a cheap old thing—I’ve been meaning to treat myself to a new one, anyway. Now I have a good excuse.”
“Well, there ya go, then,” the driver said.
“This guy wouldn’t know the truth if it bit him on the bum,” Delbert said.
“On the bum?” Bruiser said. “Turnin’ a wee bit Scottish now, are we, Delbert?”
“Jolly good, bite his bum, and have a spot of tea!” Dougie said. “Miss Arabella will be most impressed, Delbert!”
“Shut up Dougie,” Bruiser and Delbert said together.
Sebastian tilted his head back and sniffed at the air. He turned to his left, and again his left hand passed across the area to his side. Bruiser and Dougie backed up toward the door. Sebastian faced forward and gave directions to the driver.
“Gawd, he gives me the creeps,” Dougie whispered.
“Dougie,” Bruiser said. “If I was alive, I would still rather wrestle an alligator with a toothache than mess with this man.”
“I don’t feel so bad, then,” Dougie said.
“Miss Holly and her parents are in a heap of trouble,” Bruiser said. “And some way or somehow, we might be the best chance they have.”
Twenty
Wylie Westerhouse
Branson, Missouri
Oh, wow.
This was just not fair. I was finally getting used to the idea of seeing ghosts, including my brother. Now they’re leaving?
I don’t get it. Okay, the Prince David thing makes some sense. He was a pompous, selfish, aristocratic snob, who experienced enough of a change to give himself up and reunite a sweet little girl with her long-lost pony.
But, the rest of them? They’ve been stuck in a state of inter-galactic limbo for five to six hundred years—for what? To follow the family castle to America, get Charlotte’s horse back, and find Nora a boyfriend?
Not only that but they were actually given the choice about leaving. I had to talk to Holly. I felt terrible. Who was calling these shots? How much was a nineteen-year-old girl supposed to endure?
“Hello? Wylie?” Quentin said. Someone was yelling in the background.
“Yeah, it’s me again,” I said. “What’s with the yelling?”
“It’s Arabella,” Q said. “This was one heck of a way to introduce Brian McAllen to his first ghost. Thankfully, the Finnegans have already met them all. They’re cowering away from Arabella as we speak.”
“Who is she yelling at? Bruiser?” I asked.
“She’s yelling about all of them, as far as I can tell,” Q said.
“Bruiser actually seemed to be pretty reasonable,” I said. “He can’t calm her down?”
“That would probably work if they were here,” Q said.
“Where are they?”
“The whole lot of them was out late last night,” Q said. “They went into town and made the round of the bars.”
“They went bar-hopping?” I said.
“Not bar-hopping, exactly,” Q said. “They were checking the taverns in town and trying to find these two men. The day that Brian and Holly drove over to the old castle grounds, they saw two suspicious characters. It sounds like these two may have been spying on Holly, and they might have something to do with the disappearance of her parents. From what I’ve been able to understand from Arabella’s ranting, they did indeed find those men last night. Since they knew where the men were staying, they were going to follow them again this morning. However, Bruiser, Dougie, and Delbert left very early—without waking Arabella.”
“Uh-oh,” I said. “Now I get it. I guess this was some kind of ‘macho’ thing?”
“They screwed up,” Q said. “Big time. This Princess doesn’t play the part of Princess too well.”
“I have to talk to Holly again, Q,” I said.
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll see if I can get her away from the noise. What’s up?”
“I’ll let her tell you,” I said. “But, it’s big.”
Twenty-One
Holly McFadden
Near Edinburgh, Scotland
“Arabella! Please! I can’t bloody hear myself think!” Holly said. She held Quentin’s phone away from her ear.
“Hello? Wylie?” Holly said.
“Yes, it’s me again,” Wylie said. “She’s still yelling?”
“Oh, yeah,” Holly said. “You don’t really know her, Wylie. She’s relentless. I’m so glad we can touch them now—when I get my hands on those three—they had better get their sorry backsides back here quick, is all I’m sayin’. Oh, what a lovely impression this is making on Mr. McAllen and the Finnegans.”
“You might want to move to where it’s quieter, Holly,” Wylie said. “I have something important to tell you.”
Holly walked back into the room, where Arabella was now pacing and muttering to herself. Holly held the phone at her side. Her feet moved clumsily. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. When Arabella saw Holly, she stopped pacing and stared.
“What is it, Holly?” Quentin asked.
“I…I have to go, Mr. Lynchburg,” Holly said.
“You have to go where?” Arabella asked.
Holly blinked hard and looked at Arabella.
“You must come, too,” Holly said.
Arabella tossed her head side-to-side.
“You can’t go, Arabella!” Arabella said. “You MUST go, Arabella! No one seems to remember which of us is a member of a Royal family!”
“What’s happened, Holly?” Quentin asked.
“Baron McIntyre’s sister and her husband are at the castle,” Holly said.
Arabella was in front of Holly in an instant.
“Dallas’s sister?” Arabella said excitedly. “Why? Why is she there? Is…is David with them?”
Holly shook her head.
“No,” Holly said, softly. “Just Mary and Frederick. And…Wylie says that the Montgomery’s have said…the most unusual thing.”
“What—?” Arabella said.
“They say that you all…you’ve been given the choice to go….to your rest.”
“Choice? What choice is there?” Arabella floated above the floor and spun around. “Our being here has never made any sense—six hundred years—and for what purpose?”
“Well, for one thing,” Holly said, “Your brother left here a better man than he was for many, many years.”
“Hey! There’s no need to go insulting—!” Arabella pointed her finger at Holly, but then she dropped it and her face softened. “Well, that’s…that’s probably true.”
“I’m not insulting you, Arabella,” Holly said. “You also did a very good thing—you helped to turn Bruiser Brady and his gang into our friends, rather than threats to our home.”
“Well,” Arabella said, as she smoothed her hair with one hand. “I did what I could. I was glad to help.”
“And you’ve discovered the gift of your voice,” Q said. “Your…life, your time here, has certainly not been a waste.”
Arabella blushed and stammered.
“Well…I…I find it hard to argue—”
“No, you don’t,” Holly said. “You actually find it very easy.”
Arabella chuckled.
“Really,” she said. “You must stop—” Arabella’s smile turned into a frown.
Holly batted her eyelashes and smiled at Arabella.
Ian and Myron Finnegan, and Brian McAllen watched the exchange in silence. Holly turned and spoke to them.
“I have to go back—for now,” she said. “I’m sorry. I know that we’ve asked a great deal of you, and this won’t make things any easier. But the McIntyres are the only real family that I have left, and I can’t let them go without saying ‘goodbye’. I just can’t.”
Ian and Myron stood.
“You
do what you need to do, M’Lady,” Ian said. He motioned with his hand toward the table that was full of notebooks and papers. “We have our notes, and we’ll have even more after we meet with the police. We’ll have enough to work with for at least a week. We can call you if we think of anything that you might help us with.”
“Thank you,” Holly said. “Mr. Lynchburg, could I trouble you to call the airplane people for a ticket back to Branson? I have money.”
“Pfffttt!” Quentin said with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about that.”
He took out his phone and stared at the screen.
“You know what?” he said. “I’ll just come with you. I have nothing more to contribute here, at this point. I don’t like the thought of you traveling so far alone—begging your pardon, Arabella. It’s nothing personal.”
Arabella started to object, but then just closed her mouth. This pleased everyone else in the room.
Quentin looked at his phone again. He tapped in the number for his travel agent.
“The three of us will go and say our farewells,” Q said. “We can get Wylie, and all come back together. Okay?”
Holly and Arabella nodded. Arabella was overcome with excitement again, but when she saw the sadness on Holly’s face, she quietly backed away. She was able to remain quiet for eight seconds.
“It serves Bruiser and Dougie and Delbert right,” Arabella said. “Let them see what if feels like to be left out.”
“There is one thing, Mr. Lynchburg,” Myron Finnegan said. “Miss McIntyre—” Myron nodded in Arabella’s direction. “Miss McIntyre and her friends were able to locate key suspects in only one day. Ian and I would have been fortunate to track those two down in two weeks, if at all. Here lies the unfortunate rub, I’m afraid. We’ll not have the benefit of their….ah….skills—until your return, I believe?”
Quentin and Holly looked at each other and shook their heads.
“There isn’t, by chance—” Ian said. “Any sort of ‘workaround’, is there, Holly? Is it possible that your clothing or personal items might allow your ability to transfer in your absence?
Holly shook her head slowly.
“I don’t think it works like that,” she said. “But, really, I’ve never needed to try.”
Quentin shrugged.
“We could give it a shot,” he said. “Why don’t we gather a few articles of clothing, a toothbrush…a hairbrush might be a good idea, too.”
Holly reached and grabbed her hair at the neckline.
“I could stand a good trimming,” she said.
“Good idea,” Quentin said. “Anyone have scissors?”
The men began searching their luggage and briefcases.
Twenty-Two
Wylie Westerhouse
St. Louis, Missouri
I woke up and was immediately aware that I was sore. I wasn’t sore from the bed I had just slept in because it was plush and soft and made of awesome. I looked around and remembered that I was at an expensive hotel in St. Louis. I was sore from a night of splendid head-banging shenanigans with Slipknot.
I stood and stretched, and encouraged some of my blood to get moving. I showered and dressed and called Nate’s room. He was still asleep, and when he answered the phone he called me funny names.
I answered a knock at the door. A pleasant young man, standing behind a room-service cart, smiled and said “Good morning”. He handed me a steaming cup from my favorite coffee source in the world, and a large glass filled with soda. He read from his order pad.
“One Super-Columbian dark with an espresso drop and one chocolate cherry-vanilla Dr. Pepper?” He wrinkled his nose at the end. “Is that right?”
“Oh, that’s correct,” I said. “It ain’t right, but it’s correct.”
I patted my pockets and looked around the room for my wallet.
“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Westerhouse,” the young man said. “It’s taken care of, and then some.”
“Oh, thanks,” I said.
“Wow,” he said. “Guests of Skyler KwyK. Are you related, or something?” he whispered.
“No,” I said. “We’re just—no.”
“All right,” he said. “Enjoy your stay.” He looked at his watch. “The kids are finished with breakfast when you’re ready to visit.”
“Huh?” I said. Then I remembered that Toby was in the next building. Duh.
I knocked on Nate’s door. He opened it far enough to look through the crack with one eye. His hair dripped water onto the floor. I held up the glass.
“One chocolate-cherry-vanilla Dr. Pepper—complements of ‘Guess Who’.”
“No way,” Nate said. His eyes grew wide. Well, the one I could see was wide.
Nate opened the door a little farther. He pushed one hand through the crack and took the glass.
“Now go away,” he said. “We need to be alone for a little while.”
“I’ll be next door with Toby,” I said. “We have about an hour and a half.”
Toby was glad to see me. I didn’t know this immediately because it took me a minute to recognize him. He had been given a bath, a haircut, and a pedicure. He had a small flowered sachet under his tail so that his bottom smelled like honeysuckle. Okay, that last part isn’t true.
He was still my Toby, and I love him, and that’s all I have to say about that.
“You cut his hair,” I said to the girl who brought Toby out to the lobby.
“Yes,” the girl piped up. “I love doing Westie cuts!”
“I don’t remember asking…” I said, but then I saw the girl begin to look afraid. “How much do I owe you—for doing such an excellent job?”
“Oh, it’s all been taken care of by Skyler KwyK!” she bubbled. “We are so excited to have her friends staying with us!”
Yes, we are Skyler’s guests and so she gets to choose how Toby’s hair gets cut, I didn’t say.
The staff of the “kennel” part of this unusual hotel consisted of three beautiful and bubbly young ladies. I usually reserved the term “bubbly” for flight attendants, who smile as they inform passengers of the operation of seat belts and “emergency flotation devices”. I suspect that when they’re hanging out with each other at the bar, they joke about people desperately trying to remember their instructions while they plummet from the sky into an ocean.
The attendants directed Toby and me to the indoor/outdoor recreation area. This place was incredible. There were brightly colored rides, ramps, and tunnels, and various hidey-holes. These led up to an entire obstacle course, which was complete with a checkered-flag finish line. There was even a miniature waterpark at one end of the facility. We would have no time for that.
Toby panted up and down a few ramps and tolerated a couple of rides, along with two Jack Russell terriers who wore matching scarves. Mostly, we just sat and admired the energetic breeds as they plowed through one challenge and onto the next.
Toby sat and panted and occasionally took a drink of his Perrier from a stainless bowl. Toby’s bowl was refilled twice, by of one of the “bubblies” who was watching our every move.
Good grief. Being a guest of Skyler KwyK could be exhausting after a while, I’ll bet. I’ll let you know.
Toby seemed to be enjoying the experience vicariously, through the other dogs. I imagined Toby offering encouragement and commentary to his fellow dogs.
“Well done! That’s my boy! Smashing!” he might say. Being a West Highland white terrier, he has Scottish roots. Did you know that?
Nate showed up after a few minutes. He thanked the girl who had led him outside and given him a bottle of Perrier.
“Man,” he said. “I thought Disney had a lock on the ‘happy place’. They sure are—”
“Bubbly?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Nate said. “Bubbly. You know what? I bet when Skyler has her oil changes done, they don’t even try to sell her their fifty-dollar wiper blades.”
“You put wayyyy too much thought into that,” I said.
We left Toby with the bubbly ladies. I wondered what they would do with him, since he was already clean, and groomed. Maybe they’ll try little outfits on him. He might like that.
A limousine pulled in front of the hotel five minutes early. After a twenty-minute drive, we were outside of the city. We turned into a drive with a wide wrought-iron gate. The driver stopped and operated a keypad entry. I caught a reflected glint in my peripheral vision. At least three different motorized security cameras zeroed in on the car. We drove down a perfect tree-lined road. Quarter-horses played chase in the grassy field to my left. The field to my right was shared between some zebras and a couple of moose. Mooses. Okay, I saw a moose, and then I saw another moose.
We drove right past the main entrance to the house. We stopped in front of a building with a long row of garage doors.
An enthusiastic young man greeted us and invited us to follow him. We walked through a section of garage—I counted eight vintage vehicles. We passed through a gym, complete with a half-court for basketball. The next room had a Jacuzzi and an indoor pool, presumably for when the weather was bad or when one grew tired of both of the outdoor pools.
The next and final door led to the music recording and rehearsal space. There we met up with Skyler.
There were six men in the room. We were introduced to them, and then Skyler led us through another door and into a lounge. Two of the men joined us—Chris Chadwick, Skyler’s producer, and Grayson Kilmister, recording engineer.
“Say, you’re not—?” I asked Grayson.
Grayson was already shaking his head at the question he had heard for most of his life.
“Nope,” he said. “No relation. It’s a shame—would have done wonders for my ‘cool factor’, especially with the heavy-metal fans.”
