The Squeaky Clean Skeleton

by R A Muth

  Chapter 18

  Rune rose to a sitting position and leaned forward a little. “What is it, lass? Are ye hurt?”

  “Not physically, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to, well, whatever this is.” I gestured to his prone form.

  My houseguest-slash-housecat regarded me for a moment with raised eyebrows. “I am not sure why ye’re gobsmacked. Me being here is all yer fault.”

  “What? Why are you blaming me for this?”

  “The bottle was my home for an age until you brought me here. If ye ask me, ye’re jammy. I could have been a right old hoor.”

  “Jam? A right old what?” Tilting my head, I waited for him to explain his strange way of speaking. There’s no way he said what I thought I heard.

  “Hoor. Ah, a bad egg.”

  “So, not a prostitute?”

  “What? No! I wouldn’t subject a lass such as yerself to such vulgarity.” He looked properly chagrined. When I didn’t answer right away, he asked, “Would ye like to tell me about yer day?”

  “Okay, but let me order Chinese food first. Do you have any preferences?”

  “Bacon and cabbage or colcannon and blood pudding would be brilliant.”

  Looking at Rune’s happy expression, I was a smidge sympathetic. Here he was in a strange place after how many years--decades, centuries?--of living in a bottle, if what he said was true.

  But if he was in the bottle, then, hmm. Any consolation did an about-face and quickly turned to suspicion. “Is that what you ate while you were in the bottle?”

  “Pardon?”

  “How did you spend all those years in a bottle without needing food or water? Where did you go to the bathroom? Didn’t you scream for help?”

  “Ye don’t believe me.” The corners of his mouth drooped, and his shoulders slumped. “Can’t say that I blame ye. I reckon if ye were a puss I’d brought home and turned into the fetching lass ye are the minute we were alone, I wouldn’t sit there blaggardin’ ye ‘bout ye small details, implying ye was trick acting. If ye had gone years and years without eating, I’d ask ye if ye preferred white or black pudding and would ye fancy a pint or a fresh glass of milk to go with it.”

  Although I didn’t understand half of what he said, one thing I could comprehend stood out above the rest.

  He called me fetching, I thought. Despite feeling a blush rising into my cheeks at the compliment, I forced my mind to remain neutral and admitted, “I’m sorry, Rune, but you must understand why I’m having trouble believing all this.”

  “Even after ye saw it happen.”

  Technically, I felt it happen, as my eyes were not yet open when he shape-shifted, or whatever it was he did. Now was not the time to debate with him. There were more important issues at stake, as my stomach confirmed with a loud growl. “So, you’ve never had Chinese food, I’m guessing?”

  “Ye guess correctly, lass. I have never traveled to the Orient before.”

  “It’s okay. I have an idea. Trust me.” Throwing caution and my meager checking account balance to the wind, I pulled out my phone and scrolled to find the logo for the Chinese food restaurant. Tapping the screen to open the app, I used every available online coupon to order a smorgasbord from their weekly internet specials. “Let’s see, and we’ll get sweet and sour shrimp, lobster lo mein, orange beef, chicken with cashew nuts, General Tso’s chicken, wonton soup, egg drop soup, and pork fried rice. If you don’t like any of those, I can fix you a bagel and enjoy the leftovers myself until they’re gone.”

  “I did not understand half of what ye said, lass.”

  Now we’re even, was what came to mind. But, instead of voicing my thoughts, I said, “It’s all delicious. I promise.”

  “They bring the food here?”

  “Yes, someone from the restaurant will deliver it to us.” I stood and beckoned to him. “The app says it will be about an hour. Let’s wait in the living room. The furniture is more comfortable than the floor.”

  We adopted our earlier seats, him in the chair and me on the couch, and spent a long couple of minutes sitting in silence.

  “So, were you acquainted with Christine Livingston? How did you get here from Ireland? Or is the bottle like Doctor Who’s T.A.R.D.I.S.? Can you teleport? Ooh, even better! Can you travel through time?”

  “Whist, lass. One question at a time.” Rune rubbed his hand over a day’s growth of stubble. “The vixen of a gingernut who did this to me, Maebe, threw the bottle into the ocean, and I knew then I’d never see my aul man or wan again. My whole life, I was a disappointment to them, so it was no great loss if I disappeared from their lives.”

  “What year was this?”

  “Pardon?”

  “In which year did you disappear?”

  “It was 1843 in the year of our Lord.”

  “And where did it happen?”

  “Dún Laoghaire, in County Dublin. I worked on the railway there.”

  “I see.”

  Rune began laughing as if he had made the world’s funniest joke. At seeing my quizzical expression, he panted out, “Sorry lass, it’s jes’, I imagine they’ve finished the railroad by now, aye?”

  “So, what you’re saying is that you’re out of work?” I couldn’t help but giggle.

  “Aye, I presume so.” My guest wiped his eyes and exhaled a deep breath. “After an eternity of bobbing around the sea, the bottle washed up on a rocky shore. Through the glass, I saw a dense fog and heard great noises.”

  “I bet it was the lobstermen.”

  “Who?”

  “Sorry for interrupting you so much. The noise you heard was the lobstermen if I had to guess. They’re out wicked early in the morning when it’s so foggy, and you can hardly see your hand in front of your face. The fog dims the noise, so the sound is a bit eerie, and it’s even worse if you’re out alone. Sorry, again. Go on.” I faltered between the desire to share my lifetime of facts about my home state of Maine and the history of Cooper’s Cove and hearing the rest of his story, regardless of how much of it I believed to be accurate. The latter won out, though, and I forced my lips into a tight line to avoid nagging.

  “A woman found the bottle and picked it up. She rubbed the sand from the label and read it, but unlike ye, she was neither ginger, nor did she have the mark of the sea.” Rune stopped to wink at me, and another blush rose into my face. With a cheeky grin, he continued, “The woman, as ye may have guessed, was Christine Livingston. The bottle remained on her fireplace mantel until she had it placed in a box and stored in the attic. I’ve no idea how much time has passed since she boxed me away.”

  Chapter 19

  “A year,” I blurted.

  Rune wrinkled his nose. “Away with ye. Jes’ one year?”

  “She had her house redecorated a year ago. There was a big write-up on this local blog. Hold on.” I reached for the television remote and pressed the power button, bringing the screen to life. Holding the microphone end of the remote close to my lips, I said, “Ringo, guilty feet have got no rhythm.”

  The home screen for the Careless Whispers blog appeared on the screen, and Rune’s eyes widened. “What kind of magic is that? Ye jes’ talk to it, and it obeys?”

  "It's a Ringo device. A smart appliance," I explained to my houseguest while suppressing a giggle at his bewildered expression. At his blank stare, I wondered how I could dumb down an explanation of how my TV worked for someone who'd spent almost two centuries in a bottle. "This television has smart technology that recognizes my voice. It works similar to my laptop."

  "I do not understand what this has to do with the top of yer lap, lass." His gaze dropped to my thighs for a second before returning to my face.

  "Wait here." Oh boy. I dashed to my bedroom and pulled my laptop from its padded, tote-style carrying case, glad I had charged it to full power before going to bed the night before. Returning to the living room, I set the laptop on the coffee table settled cross-legged on the floor. The moment I opened the device, the screen flickered fr
om solid black to a selfie Hazel and I took at Kitty Point Light the previous autumn, not long after Duffy announced his decision to end our marriage. When I confided his plans to her, she told Sven, who insisted on sending us on a girls' weekend.

  "It's ye and the other lass," Rune observed, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. A broad smile returned the dimples to his cheeks. "What's she called?"

  "She's called Hazel, and she's my very best friend in the whole world." Unable to resist a smile of my own, I tapped the web browser icon and typed "Christine Livingston interior design" in the search bar. Although a slew of articles appeared in the results, I clicked the one for the Careless Whispers blog.

  "It's the same?" Rune pointed to the television before holding his finger close to the laptop's screen.

  I gently pushed his hand away with my fingertips while explaining, "Mhmm, but watch it. This thing is super sensitive."

  "Ye jes' touch it?"

  "Yes, and it responds. You can tap, swipe, and more to find out information about anything you like. You can also play games, watch videos, listen to music, and a lot of other things. The television does most of them, too." I did a few quick demonstrations before returning to the webpage displaying the blog article. "See? This article says Mrs. Livingston hired, whoa, she hired Elizabeth Sparrows.”

  "Who's that, lass?"

  "A client's mother. It says here she graduated from some posh design school in Boston, ages ago."

  "Lass, ye're speaking a foreign tongue."

  I gave a dismissive wave of my hand as if I could physically brush away the topic before closing my laptop and using the remote to turn off the television. "It's not important. So, when you were in the bottle, could you see and hear what was happening around you?"

  "Aye, lass."

  "Can you tell me anything about Mrs. Livingston?"

  Rune shuddered. "I'd have been better off with the gingernut than that woman who found my bottle on the beach. Christine Livingston was the evilest person I ever witnessed. Not long before she had me packed away, a woman called Mandy Leigh started visiting."

  "Mandy Leigh? She's the one who wrote this article. That's probably the reason why she was visiting. Do you remember anything she said or did while she was there?"

  "They jes' talked. That lass had more questions than ye, even." Rune winked, a move that, combined with those killer dimples, was more than a little disarming.

  It took me a moment to realize Rune was making a joke at my expense, but a knock on the door saved me from having to respond. "That must be our food."

  Grateful that the restaurant app on my phone allowed me to both pay and tip in advance, I accepted the shopping bag of takeout containers and thanked the delivery person. Using my free hand to close and lock the door, I shivered against the chill that settled in for the night. The piping hot food was a welcome arrival, not only because it saved me from having to cook or wash dishes. I was famished.

  "Whatever ye have in that bag smells delicious." Rune stood in the archway between the eat-in kitchen and the living room.

  "It sure does. Would you like to eat at the kitchen table or in the living room?"

  "The table is grand, thank you." Rune took the bag from me, put it on the table, and pulled out my chair. When I didn't react right away, he said, "Lass? Will ye sit?"

  "Why, thank you, Rune." I hoped my tone conveyed the sincerity I felt and grabbed a pair of mismatched plates and forks from the dish drainer next to the sink before taking my seat.

  After claiming the chair across the table from me, Rune mentioned, "Ye looked surprised. Do men not hold chairs for women in current society?"

  "My late husband never did." I snorted as I unpacked the containers.

  "The man ye called Duffy?"

  "Mhmm. Not to speak ill of the dead, but in all our years of marriage, Duffy never held a door, pulled out a chair, or put his jacket over a puddle so I wouldn't have to get my shoes wet." Of course, I'd only seen the latter done in vintage films and cartoons, but I had a feeling Rune's manners would have him doing all those things and more. "I imagine Sven does them for Hazel, though. She sure did luck out."

  "Sven is the other lass's mate?"

  "Mhm. Hazel and Sven started dating back during our senior year when he was a foreign exchange student at Blueberry Bay High. They went to prom together, and he graduated with our class." As I explained, I dished out a few forkfuls of every cardboard takeout container on each of our plates. Hazel and I rarely discussed her marriage, likely because it was so perfect when compared to mine and Duffy's. It was odd talking about it to a total stranger.

  "Prom?" Rune's eyes stayed glued to the food on his plate as he asked.

  Chapter 20

  I reached across the table to hand him a fork. "A formal dance. Like, a ball or cotillion except without the debutantes."

  "Aye, lass. I see. Continue?"

  "Sven is great on paper. He sends gifts at the right time. They take day trips out to Caraway Island. Hazel never, ever complains about him. She never mentions if they argue, which is kind of weird. Who doesn't argue? And how can you have make-up, uh, well, you know? Anyway, at our last high school reunion, those catty she-devils from the pep squad were still whispering behind Hazel's back that Sven's reason for marrying her was to secure citizenship but whatever. If Hazel and Sven are happy, people should be happy for them. Am I right?"

  Despite the confused expression crossing his features, Rune agreed, "Of course, lass."

  I held my chopsticks in my fingers and nodded at the food. "Which would you like to try first?"

  "Ye eat with wooden sticks in such modern times?"

  "Only certain foods and I've had a lot of practice. As this is your first time, you'll find it easier to use a fork because, well, then." As I was talking, Rune unwrapped his chopsticks, mimicked how I held mine, and used them to lift a piece of chicken from his plate.

  A second before I could praise his efforts, however, his bottom lip bumped the morsel, dislodging it so that it escaped the chopsticks. Rune used his cat-like reflexes to catch it in his free hand before it could land on his white silk shirt, and his expression revealed a sheepish smile. "Missed by a gee hair."

  I had no idea what it meant, but after the very long day, I was content with not overthinking his odd way of speaking. Laying one stick across the edge of my plate, I took the other and stabbed a piece of orange beef before holding it in the air. "Here's a pro tip. If you have a particularly tricky piece, use one chopstick instead of two."

  Our laughter filled the kitchen, and it was great to have someone to share a meal with, especially someone who wasn't Duffy. Even if Rune's story sounded more like an Irish fairytale than a fact, it was a welcome change from my past, and it certainly beat eating alone.

  As we enjoyed sampling the contents of the takeout containers, I filled Rune in on mine and Hazel's meeting with Marci and told him about the séance, including my doubts about it.

  "Are ye sure ye wish to involve yourself in this?" He peered at me over the half-empty takeout containers. "I'd advise ye to keep yer nose out of it. What if ye dredge up an actual spirit?"

  "You're not serious."

  "Look at me! Whenever anyone besides ye comes near, I change into a bloody cat!"

  I laid my chopsticks across my plate and rested my elbows on the table. "Yes, Rune, I'm sure, and I'm willing to take the risk. Hazel and I need to do this to get paid, and I need that money to pay my bills."

  "Then I'll help ye however I can."

  His words eased the tension eased from my shoulders as effectively as the hands of an expert masseuse. "That means a lot, Rune. Thank you."

  "Now, can ye research how to do a séance on yer whatsit?" He vaguely gestured toward the living room with his free hand.

  "My laptop? Yup. I planned to do that after dinner. There's no chance you've been to a séance before, right?"

  "I've not, but I could go with ye to this one."

  "You'll be a cat."


  "Aye. That's the thought."

  "That's a great idea, Rune." The possibilities raced through my mind. I couldn't wait to tell Hazel about our plan.

  Except, of course, I couldn't tell Hazel because she wasn't aware of Rune's secret. He was bound to me, and although I wasn't exactly sure what it meant, I had no plans to abuse it. Well, aside from getting his help with the séance.

  Rune and I were awake until midnight, drinking coffee and researching séances. As he developed a taste for caramel lattes, I jotted details on sticky notes and arranged them across the coffee table. Once we formed a clear plan, I dredged the items from the shopping bags, including the 80s-style purple prom dress.

  “Ye’ll show yer shoulders!” Rune said with a gasp.

  His expression of shock combined with all the caffeine I’d ingested since dinner sent me into a fit of giggles. “Oh, Rune. You wouldn’t believe the stuff women show in today’s world.”

  “It’s indecent! Improper! They’ll think yer a, well,” He paused to run his hands through his hair and sighed. “They’ll think yer a brasser, lass!”

  “Wait here. I have an idea.” Leaving Rune alone for a couple of minutes, I went to my bedroom, where I rummaged through the clothes in my closet.

  It wasn’t long before my fingers touched the black lace shawl I had hoped to find and pulled it free of its hanger. The narrow ends of the triangular-shaped piece of fabric draped over my shoulders. I tied them in a knot at my neck and let the rest of the lace trail toward my hips.

  Upon my return to the living room, I took long strides, like a member of royalty making a grand entrance. “How’s this?”

  “The shawl is a grand touch, lass, but please, do not remove it.”

  Rune’s tone was so sincere, and I had no choice but to concede, “All right. I’ll wear something like this along with the dress.”