by Maria Geraci
Zeke came up and touched her arm in brotherly affection, a far cry from their usual kiss and hug, but there was a crowd present and he was here on official business so she didn’t take it personally. He whipped off his cop sunglasses. “Got a call there was a disturbance going on. What are all these people doing here?”
“They’re here to protest the senior center demolition,” Allie said, “but I swear to you, Zeke, I had nothing to do with this. We woke up a few minutes ago to find…all this,” she waved her arm through the air, “in the parking lot.”
Zeke scratched his chin in a deceptively pensive move that Allie swore he must have learned from some cop movie. “We?” His gaze zeroed in on Tom.
“Tom and I spent the night in the senior center hoping to make contact with the ghost. My idea. Not his,” she added quickly.
“The ghost?” Zeke laughed incredulously. “Let me get this straight, Donalan. My sister bamboozled you into spending the night here in the hopes of catching a ghost?”
“We weren’t trying to catch it, we were trying to make contact. I’m writing a story about it for Florida! magazine. Hasn’t Mimi told you any of this?”
To Allie’s surprise, Tom backed her up. “Allie’s just following up on a lead. It’s what any journalist would do. The building’s been vandalized a couple of times in the past month so I couldn’t let her stay here alone.”
“Not to throw kerosene on the fire,” Rusty interrupted, his face pale. “But I could have sworn I just saw something on top of that building.”
The three of them turned in unison. “Like what?” Zeke demanded.
“Like a vapor,” Rusty said. “A dancing vapor!”
Zeke shook his head like what the hell, but it was Rusty, right?
Phoebe Van Cleave, who was close enough to hear Rusty’s words, didn’t waste time capitalizing on them. “See!” she cried. “Even the fuzz sees the ghost!”
Excitement hummed through the parking lot as word spread. Was it possible there was really a ghost on top of the building and Allie just couldn’t see it? Or was the power of suggestion causing some kind of mass hysteria?
Zeke ignored the pumped up crowd and walked inside the building. Tom and Allie followed. It took her brother exactly two seconds to hone in on the lone mattress.
“Looks pretty damn cozy here.” Zeke turned his scary cop stare on Tom. “Do I need to ask what your intentions are toward my sister? Or should I save time and just beat the shit out of you instead?”
Allie punched her brother on the shoulder. Just enough to get his attention. “Oh for the love of—nothing happened, Zeke.”
Tom nudged her out of the way until both men stood eye to eye. “Look, Grant, whatever happened between Allie and me is none of your business. I need the premises cleared. So, I’d appreciate it if you did your job so I can do mine.”
It was like watching one of those old time westerns where the two gunslingers faced each other in the final showdown. Each of them waiting for the other to draw first.
Rusty came running in from the parking lot, his face flushed and his forehead covered in sweat. “Those Gray Flamingos say they ain’t leavin’ till the ghost tells them what they want to know. Something about the world coming to an end.”
Allie moaned.
Rusty took a handkerchief from his back pocket and mopped his brow. “Yeah, and that Van Cleave woman? Piece of work, that one. Says she’s gonna call a judge friend of hers from Panama City to keep the building from coming down until her Friendly Ghost Society can do a proper investigation.”
“That’s Sunshine Ghost Society,” Allie corrected.
Zeke broke out of his bad-ass sheriff routine to deal with this newest development. “Rusty, get Bruce Bailey on the line.” Bruce Bailey was Whispering Bay’s mayor and the way Zeke said his name didn’t bode well.
“I’m on it, Chief.” Rusty exited the building like he was on a mission.
“That’s my cue to give Steve Pappas an update,” Tom said. He glanced between Allie and Zeke, then left to make his call.
“What’s going on between you and that guy?” Zeke asked once they were alone.
“I already told you. Nothing’s going on.”
“Don’t bullshit me. I saw the way he looked at you.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Like you were breakfast and he hadn’t eaten in days.”
That certainly described what she’d woken up to this morning. Only to be fair, she’d been just as hungry as Tom. She tried for a blank expression. “French toast or scrambled eggs?”
“Allie,” Zeke said in a warning tone.
“No worries, big brother. It’s all good. Tom has actually been…kind of cooperative here.”
“I don’t care if he did a rain dance trying to call this ghost of yours out.” Zeke ran an agitated hand through his cropped dark hair. “Are you getting back together with that guy?”
“What? No!”
“Good, because that asshole broke your heart. You cried for days, hell, it was more like weeks. Think I’ve forgotten about that?”
That asshole, as Zeke put it, walked back into the building the exact moment her brother uttered those words. No sense hoping he hadn’t heard it. It was clear from the look on Tom’s face that he’d caught Zeke’s entire tirade.
Captain Crunch. Leave it to Zeke’s big mouth to make things even worse than they were before. Now Tom Donalan felt sorry for her. This was totally unacceptable. It had been twelve years. She got why she might feel bitter, but why did Zeke still harbor so much animosity toward Tom?
“For the record, no one broke my heart. Okay?” she announced. “And while I appreciate the big brother routine,” she said to Zeke, “I’m thirty years-old and I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”
Neither of them said anything and somehow that made it all worse. Like they didn’t believe her. She could barely look Tom in the eye. If her license wasn’t suspended she’d get in her car and drive back to Tampa this instant.
Rusty walked back in the building with a long face. “Bad news, Chief. Mayor Bailey says he can’t interfere with what’s going on here. Something about not wanting to take sides.”
“More like not wanting to lose votes,” Zeke muttered.
Allie glanced over to find Tom staring at her hard. “I think I have a solution,” he said. “Follow me.”
They all marched outside. Allie was curious to discover what sort of solution Tom had come up with. He positioned himself at the edge of the crowd. The protestors, sensing something was up, quieted down to listen. “I’ve just spoken to my boss at Pappas-Hernandez Construction. We don’t want anyone to get hurt here, so the company is willing to compromise.”
The crowd began chanting, “Séance-Séance-Séance!”
“You have forty-eight hours. And that’s it,” Tom said sternly. “Forty-eight hours and this building comes down. No matter what.”
A cheer went up among the protestors.
Forty-eight hours? Steve Pappas was willing to give them another forty-eight hours! Only this time, Allie wouldn’t be going solo. She’d have Phoebe and the rest of the Sunshine Ghost Society to back her up.
“That doesn’t sound like Steve Pappas,” Zeke muttered.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Pappas is all about the bottom line. He’s a nice guy, but he’s a businessman first and he’s doing this project pro-bono, so he doesn’t need any more PR. Bruce Bailey already wants to give him the key to the city.”
Allie used her hand to shield her eyes from the sun and searched Tom out. He appeared busy talking to a group of his workmen. She thought about what Zeke had just said, but what reason would Tom have to lie about the demolition extension?
Allie’s thoughts were interrupted by a familiar gravelly voice that she was beginning to dread. “Forty-eight hours isn’t nearly enough time to prepare for a proper séance, but I suppose we’ll just have to make do.”
Phoebe kept popp
ing back up some like some evil jack-in-the-box. Still, if she could get this séance off the ground, Allie would personally buy her a year’s supply of her favorite cigarettes. Allie frowned. That seemed a little…uncharitable of her. She’d get Phoebe a year’s supply of nicotine patches, instead.
“Do you really think you can make contact with the ghost through a séance?” Allie asked. “I mean, are those for real?”
“Of course they’re for real. This being, whoever he may have been in life, has made contact for a reason and we need to get to the bottom of it. From what my brother tells me the ghost has only recently made himself known, which means something’s got his tighty whities twisted in a wad.” Phoebe glared at the large Demolition in Progress sign in front of the senior center door. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what that something is.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Phoebe said. “In case you weren’t aware, I am the area’s leading ghost expert.”
“Then why didn’t your brother go to you directly with this? Why send me an anonymous email signed Concerned Citizen?”
Phoebe’s face clouded over. “Who knows why Roger does anything these days? Maybe he’s off his meds.”
Allie wasn’t sure what that meant, but despite her mixed emotions at the morning’s events, she began to feel hopeful. A séance. An honest to God séance. Whatever else happened, ghost or no ghost, this was a story she could run with.
*~*~*
The crowd had thinned down by the time Allie made it back inside the senior center. She watched as Tom deflated the air mattress, folded it into a square then punched it back inside the bag to make it fit. He glanced up to see Allie standing over him.
“What made Steve Pappas give us the extension? I mean, is everything going to be okay with your job?”
“Sure, everything’s fine.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t make sense to go ahead with the demolition if we’re going to have to fight half the town to do it. Steve Pappas knows it’s good PR to hold off for a couple days. That way, everyone ends up happy.” He sounded convincing enough, but there was that twitchy thing he did with his mouth that made Allie think he wasn’t being one hundred percent honest with her.
“Look, I want you to know I appreciate everything you’ve done trying to help me with this ghost story, even though you’re not a believer and you have your own agenda here. So I was thinking, maybe we can start over? If this ghost exists, then I want to flush him out so I can write my story. And obviously, that’s in your best interest, too, because once we do that then there can’t be any more objections to the building coming down.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying, I don’t see why we can’t be on friendlier terms.”
“Friendlier?”
“Not like this morning friendly, which for the record, I did not initiate. I just think we should be partners.”
“So now we’re the two musketeers? Did you really buy that little show out there? A ghost on top of the building? C’mon, Allie, you’re smarter than that.”
“Just because I didn’t see what everyone else saw doesn’t mean there wasn’t something there.” She bit her bottom lip. “I admit, I’m not sure what to think about Concerned Citizen.”
“Roger Van Cleave? You know his wife died last year.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Roger doesn’t know what to do with himself and now this ghost thing has fallen right into his lap. I’m sure he thinks he saw a ghost. He probably even believes he wrote that letter, and maybe he did, but this is all just something to tick away the hours for a lonely old man.”
“How do you know all this?”
“He’s a member of Dad’s parish. Calls him three, four times a week with some suggestion or other for Sunday’s sermon. I helped patch his roof a few weeks ago. Kept me there all day plying me with iced tea and stories about the good old days.”
“That’s…that was really nice of you.”
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I’m not that nice. You should know that better than anyone.”
“What exactly are we talking about here—” Argh. She knew exactly what he was talking about. She was going to kill Zeke with her bare hands. “How many times do I have to tell you? You. Did. Not. Break. My. Heart. Got it?”
“Got it. No one broke anyone’s heart.” He paused and lowered his voice. “But I owe you an apology anyway.”
“If it makes you feel better, than by all means, go ahead. Add in some sack cloth and ashes while you’re at it.”
“Can you cut me a little slack here, Allie? This isn’t easy for me. Because the truth is, whenever I look at you it reminds me of a time in my life that I’m not so proud of. And then, there’s that other thing.”
“What other thing?”
“The fact that we both want to screw each other’s brains out.”
Her jaw dropped.
Phoebe Van Cleave appeared in the open doorway. “May I enter?” she asked in a loud dramatic voice.
“Perfect timing,” Allie muttered under her breath.
“Sure, why not? Come on in,” Tom said.
Phoebe glared at him. “I wasn’t speaking to you. I’m asking the ghost for permission.”
Tom laughed in that not nice way of his. “In that case, the ghost says wipe your feet before you come inside.”
Despite the tension between them, Allie couldn’t help but smile. Just a little.
“Make fun all you want,” Phoebe said. “I guarantee tomorrow night you won’t be so cocky.”
“Is that when you’ve arranged for the séance?” Allie tried to appear contrite. Sharing a joke with Tom at Phoebe’s expense wasn’t going to win Phoebe over to her side. And like it or not, that was exactly what Allie was going to have to do if she wanted an exclusive on this séance.
Phoebe cautiously stepped inside the building, like any second now she’d trip on a land mine. “I just heard from Madame Gloria. She’s available to host a séance tomorrow night. I tried for this evening but she’s booked. We’re lucky she’s available on such short notice.”
Tom crossed his arms over his chest. “I almost hate to ask, but who’s Madame Gloria?”
“Just the best medium in north Florida, probably even in the whole southeast,” Phoebe declared proudly. “If there’s a ghost haunting this building, which of course there is since we’ve all seen him, she’ll tap into him. Yep, tomorrow night all will be revealed.”
Allie pulled her cell phone out of her backpack. “This is great, Phoebe. I really appreciate this. Does Madame Gloria have a website? Or maybe a bio I can look up? Do you think she’ll let me tape the séance?”
“Oh, you won’t be there,” Phoebe said. “This will be a closed event. Open to only a few selected individuals. Madame Gloria usually only allows four witnesses of her choice, tops.”
“Make that six,” Tom said.
Phoebe scowled. “How did you come up with that number?”
“Her four, plus Allie and me make six.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. Only true believers allowed.”
“But I’m a true believer,” Allie said. No need to mention what she believed in was that she needed this story. “And I’m the one who got this whole thing started!”
“Nevertheless, the ghost gets to pick. And he doesn’t pick you,” Phoebe said.
The front door to the senior center slammed shut, startling all three of them.
“That’s weird,” Allie said. “Must have been a breeze.”
“Probably.” Tom opened the door again and poked his head out.
Allie came up behind him. There was no breeze. Nothing but warm, humid air. Now that the cooler weather brought by the rain had passed it was already climbing back into the eighties, typical Florida fall weather. She scanned the parking lot. Most of the protestors and the construction crew had cleared out. Zeke and Rusty were chatting it up
with some of Mimi’s Bunco group and the Gray Flamingos were packing up their signs.
Roger Van Cleave caught her looking, then quickly cut his gaze away. She remembered what Tom said, about Roger’s wife passing and how he didn’t think Roger was Concerned Citizen. The more Allie thought about it, she had to agree. She watched as he stashed his sign in the backseat of his car. Poor old guy. You’d have to be pretty lonely to make up stuff just for attention.
Phoebe cleared her throat. “As I was saying, six is impossible. No, I’m afraid the two of you will have to sit this one out.”
“Phoebe,” Allie began, “I don’t think it’s fair to not include me when—”
“Here’s the bottom line,” Tom said, “This is my building. If the ghost doesn’t pick me and Allie, then I say to hell with the ghost. Go have your séance somewhere else.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Phoebe demanded.
“It means I’m responsible for whatever happens in this building so unless you agree to our presence, you can kiss your séance goodbye.”
“You’re not serious,” Phoebe sputtered.
“Oh believe me, he’s serious,” Allie said. “Insurance complications, and all that.”
Phoebe looked ready to spit. “It’s simply not possible. The ghost will never manifest himself if he doesn’t feel that everyone here is on his side.”
The door slammed shut again. A clean lemon smell crept through the air, jolting Allie into a heightened sense of awareness. And then it hit her. It wasn’t lemons at all. It was something else. Something comforting and warmly familiar. It was the smell of Jean Nate, the only cologne Buela had ever worn. Allie closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, but the smell was now gone.
“Did you smell that?” she asked.
“Smell what?” Phoebe said, staring at the closed door in disbelief.
“Lemons.”
“What is it with you and lemons? We have a ghost to concentrate on here.” Phoebe walked over to the door and placed her palm against the old wood then swayed back and forth like she was in a trance. After about a minute, she turned to face them with a wide smile on her face. “He’s here! He’s really here. And…for some reason, he doesn’t object to your presence at the séance.”
