“Just watch over the place while I’m gone,” she repeated the words her aunt had used over the phone. “Let this old house soothe your troubles and give yourself the time to figure your life out. . . . Right!” Jessie snorted in disbelief, as she drew the coverlet up tighter to her chin. “If it doesn’t drive you insane first!”
Chapter 2
Jessie awakened, blinking back the bright sunshine streaming in through pink sheers which had been drawn back in a waterfall of cascading ruffles. The room looked like an advertisement for piglets gone wild.
She looked over at the clock. Red lights flashed ten twenty-two across Porky Pig’s tummy. Jessie could hardly believe she’d slept so late . . . of course, what might be even more surprising was that she’d actually fallen asleep at all.
Maybe it was all just a bad dream, she thought as she rolled out of bed, slipping on her stuffed footwear. The stress of leaving her home and facing the unknown future ahead of her. . . . Yeah, that was it. It had to be. The alternative was just plain crazy . . . literally.
Jessie went down the hall, turning off lights as she went. Both her aunt’s room, which featured Betty Boop and a heart shaped bed, and the western motif one, where Yosemite Sam played a prominent feature, had been lit up like Christmas trees. Jessie smiled as she turned off a lamp, which looked like the gun toting Texan, and headed down the stairs. Her Aunt Katie definitely had a thing for all things cartoon. Not that she could talk, dressed in full Minnie Mouse regalia.
The place hardly seemed haunted with its cheerfully decorated rooms bathed in sunlight. Maybe she really did have some sort of mental breakdown last night. Perhaps the storm mixed with fatigue and having been so cold, she felt her head for a fever as she thought of it. Certainly there was something more rational going on than seeing a ghost.
Jessie paused at the threshold of the kitchen, peeking inside the door just to make sure she was alone. Coast clear, she busied herself with making coffee and toast. She hummed to herself as she collected the milk and jam from the fridge while steadfastly ignoring the knife that still rested in the sink. Its mere existence mocked her.
“Meow.”
Jessie jumped at the sound and turned towards her aunt’s kitty. “There you are, Elvis,” Jessie greeted the black feline as it sauntered across the floor towards her and rubbed against her leg. “Where were you last night?” she asked as he sat innocently licking his whiskers. “Are you ready for breakfast?”
“Oui.” The voice was back.
Jessie paused. She was pretty sure it wasn’t Elvis who’d answered, but then again, who knew what crazy could conjure. Turning to look back over her shoulder, she saw her tormentor sitting at the table with the local newspaper spread out before him.
“Hmm,” he chuckled as he read, “Farmer Steven’s lost his milk cow, and he’s seeing glowing lights in his pasture again. Another fine article from, The busy bee herself, Miss Patricia Parker.”
Jessie forced herself to look away, carefully putting the things in her hands on the counter as she tried to control her breathing. “Just ignore it, and maybe it will go away.”
“Why would you want the pussy to go away?”
She turned around, watching as the cat rubbed itself against the leg of the chair he was sitting on. She wasn’t going to answer. . . . No, she was bound and determined to ignore him and the amused expression on his face as he took in her pajamas and slippers.
“Minnie Mouse?” He cocked a brow.
“Leave Minnie alone,” she warned. Okay fine, so ignoring him worked for all of a second.
Distracted for the moment, he looked past her out the window. “Mon dieu!” he swore. “Here comes the little monster.”
“Monster?” Jessie repeated in alarm, jerking around. When a ghost mentions a monster, one should take precautions, right? She looked out the window, but all she could see was Aunt Katie’s neighbor, Mavis, coming up to the back door with her little dachshund.
“His name should be Lucifer,” the ghost whispered in her ear, causing goose bumps to race down to her toes. “And beware of that woman too.”
“Stop that!” she said through a forced smile as she swatted at him next to her ear. The little woman in question coming up the walk looked like Aunt Bea from an old rerun of The Andy Griffith Show. “Why would you say that about that little woman and her dog?” Jessie asked as she returned Mavis’ wave cheerfully. When he didn’t reply, she turned to find herself alone with Elvis, who flicked his tail rhythmically and watched her with large yellow eyes. She blew a puff of air out in exasperation before going to open the door.
“Hello, dear.” The plump older woman smiled warmly at her. “I saw all the lights on last night and knew you had made it in safely.”
Jessie flashed a tight smile before Mavis thrust her basket of warm muffins, and squeezed her quickly.
“Thank you.” Jessie stepped back to let her in. Her little dog immediately went over to Elvis, who jumped up on the table and growled at him.
“Look at you, you’re all grown up. How long has it been?” Mavis asked while Jessie peeked under the napkin that covered the baked goodies. They looked like hearty bran muffins, the kind that older people depend upon and swear by.
Jessie covered them up again quickly and set them on the counter. “It’s been a while.”
“You must have been about ten the last time you visited with your Aunt Kate.” Mavis continued to chat as she settled herself into the chair that the tormentor had recently vacated.
Jessie smiled as the older woman turned to look at her. Feeling slightly awkward with her full attention on her, Jessie busied herself with two cups. “I just made a pot of coffee. Would you like,” she stopped in midsentence after turning her head . . . her tormentor was back, floating directly behind the woman.
“What is it, dear?” Mavis looked at her with concern. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
Jessie practically choked on a response, but was saved by spilling hot coffee across the counter instead.
Mavis turned to look directly at the apparition, but she saw nothing despite the fact that he doffed his hat in greeting and bowed exaggeratedly. She turned back with a questioning glance. Her little dog, the monster, started to yap. Mavis scooped him up on her lap.
Elvis elected to evacuate the kitchen at that moment, the little traitor, Jessie thought as she soaked up the coffee with a tea towel. “It-it’s nothing,” Jessie murmured. She sure as heck wasn’t about to admit to anything.
“It’s okay, dear.” Mavis spoke kindly. “Your aunt told me all about your recent difficulties.”
“She what?” Jessie asked, slightly taken aback.
“I’m so sorry to hear about the loss of your dog.” Mavis looked at her own pampered pooch. “I can’t imagine losing Duke.”
Jessie didn’t know what to say. She’d been devastated by the loss of her dog, especially since it had come on the heels of everything else, her practice, her husband, her life. She sighed. Losing her faithful old lab she’d had for 12 years was almost worse than losing the jerk she’d been married to. . . . At least Dusty hadn’t been screwing the office manager and the pharmaceutical rep. “It’s been very hard,” she finally responded.
Truth was, she’d had so much loss lately she didn’t think she could handle dwelling on that one right now. She tried to change the subject. “Do you take sugar?” she asked as she carried two cups over to the table, trying to ignore the apparition who was now dangling the large feather in his cap near Duke’s nose.
“Yes, please.” Mavis accepted the cup as she struggled with the yapping dog. “Do you have any cream, dear?”
“Ah,” Jessie responded absentmindedly as she briefly glanced up at the pirate who was intent upon torturing the little dog. “Yes.”
“I don’t know what gets into him.” Mavis finally gave up the struggle and put her pooch down on the floor as Jessie placed the sugar on the table.
Bored now that his subject had been turne
d loose, the pirate turned his attention toward their unsuspecting visitor, who remained oblivious to him.
Jessie gave him a warning glance before turning her attention back toward Mavis. “I hope milk is fine. I haven’t been to the store yet.”
Mavis intercepted the look and once again glanced up at the apparition, unseeing. “Are you sure you’re alright, dear?”
Jessie tried to ignore him as he mimicked putting spoon upon spoonful of sugar in her cup and stirred. “Yes, of course.” She smiled brightly, placing the milk on the table.
“You remind me so much of your aunt.” Mavis smiled, reminding Jessie of a crafty fox as she continued. “I’m so glad that you’ve decided to come and stay,” Mavis said as Jessie set the muffins, toast, and jelly on the table and took a seat opposite her.
Jessie watched as Mavis stirred her cup and took a sip. She couldn’t help but wonder if his ministrations had affected the flavor. “I told her I’d be happy to look over the place while she was gone.”
“So you’re not staying to help, but I thought,” Mavis stopped short of finishing her sentence. “Well, that’s no never mind.” She smiled sweetly.
Too sweetly, Jessie thought as she watched the pirate pepper her cup with a pretend shaker, out of the corner of her eye. “Does my Aunt need help?”
“It’s none of my business, dear.” Mavis again smiled like a crafty fox. “Forget I said anything.” She took another sip and coughed. “The flavor of this is most different. It’s quite spicy.”
Jessie’s eyes went quickly over to the pirate who now had his finger in the jelly. She briefly wondered if ghosts had germs as she pulled the jar away and put the lid back on. He grinned widely before sticking his finger in his mouth. . . . Could ghosts actually taste things?
Duke took that opportunity to bite at his leg. The pirate did a little jig on the floor as the wiener dog attacked, chasing after him in circles before the ghost up and vanished beneath the refrigerator. The little dog scratched and dug at the grate at the bottom of the fridge.
“I wonder why he always does that?” Mavis chuckled as she watched the dog scratch at the black and white checkered linoleum floor.
The pirate popped up on the top, looking down at the little dog with a delighted expression on his face.
Jessie shook her head at him. There was no stopping him it seemed. “Why don’t we go to that little French café on Elm for breakfast?” She stood quickly. “My treat.”
“But I made muffins.” Mavis looked at the basket longingly.
“And they look delicious. . . . Why, don’t you have one while I get my purse.” Jessie nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll have more privacy to chat.”
Mavis looked at her strangely. “But we’re alone here, dear.”
“Oh, right.” Jessie headed for the hall. “I meant fewer distractions,” she called from down the hall. “I’ve been craving one of those fried dough thingies, sprinkled with powdered sugar.”
“You mean a beignet, dear?” Mavis asked, shaking her head at Jessie’s retreating form. “It must run in the family,” she whispered to her little dog as she picked him up from his hot pursuit of something under the fridge.
Jessie sealed the deal on her questionable sanity when she reappeared with purse in hand ready to go.
“But, dear,” Mavis cajoled, as one might a doddering idiot. “Don’t you think you’d better get dressed?”
Jessie looked down at her flannel pajamas with matching twin Minnies on her feet. “Oh, these.” Jessie laughed. “I hurt my feet yesterday, and Minnie is just so comfortable,” Jessie said as she led her to the front door.
“I wonder if they’d be good for my bunions,” Mavis said. As they entered the foyer the TV clicked on, going through a rapid succession of station changes.
“Your aunt still hasn’t had that short fixed, I see,” Mavis said.
Jessie watched as the ghost pirate plopped down on the sofa and kicked up his heels on the antique coffee table. She had to resist the urge to ask him to remove them. Ghost shoes can’t mark furniture, can they? She found herself wondering as she watched him stretch lazily.
“Dear, are you listening?” Mavis was watching her strangely.
“Yes.” Jessie looked at her with an apologetic smile.
“Oh, good.” Mavis beamed her approval. “I’ll have my son come over to fix it.”
“Uh,” Jessie scrambled to catch up in the conversation, “I’m sorry, what?”
“The fire hazard, dear. Oh my, you haven’t been listening.” Mavis laughed. “You are so much like your aunt.”
Jessie narrowed her eyes on the pirate as she grabbed a sweater coat from the rack and opened the door. This was his fault.
“Actually, I’m surprised with all the faulty wiring in this house that it hasn’t already burned down,” Mavis said as she headed out onto the veranda.
Jessie threw an alarmed glance toward the man sprawled across the settee. “Don’t you dare burn down this house,” Jessie whispered.
He pointed to himself in a gesture of innocence. “Moi?”
“What did you say, my dear?” Mavis asked as Jessie closed the door and locked it.
Jessie turned the key in the old lock and hoped it would keep him there. . . . Not that she wanted him there, she told herself firmly. It was just that she didn’t want him to follow her . . . that is, if he even could. Were ghosts attached to a house? Could they leave? She suddenly wished she could call John Edwards or Silvia Brown and ask. “I wonder if they make house calls?”
“Of course he does,” Mavis answered. “He’s an electrician, dear.”
“Who is?”
“My son,” Mavis repeated for her, looking at her with pity. No doubt because not only was she related to Aunt Katie, but she was fast becoming just like her. Jessie smiled awkwardly.
“He’s coming over to check the wiring tonight,” Mavis said.
“When?” Jessie looked around for a Bluetooth or other communication device attached to the woman’s head. When had she called him? Had she entered into a time warp while they walked to her car?”
“I just said tonight, dear.”
“No, when did you speak with him?” Jessie asked carefully.
“I spoke with him before I came over, dear, and he said if you needed anything to let him know. So of course I just assumed.”
Assume: to make an ass out of u and me. The old joke about assuming anything leapt to Jessie mind as she studied the deceptively sweet looking woman. So before the old dear had even arrived, she had it all worked out, Jessie thought as she looked at the wily blue haired dynamo with a new perspective. But why? Jessie couldn’t help but wonder.
“He’s single you know,” Mavis added as she set her dog down on the grass.
Bingo, Jessie thought as she looked over to find Lucifer taking a healthy poop on the lawn before a big hole near the mailbox.
“Did Luci . . . Duke just do that?” Jessie asked. Mavis looked down at the poop.
“No, the hole, did he just dig that?”
“Of course not,” Mavis said somewhat insulted.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to accuse,” Jessie said.
“That’s all right, dear.” She took a breath and added. “Your aunt’s gardener says it’s the gophers.” She pointed to several other holes across the lawn. “But if you ask me. . . .” She left the rest unsaid as she scooped up the pooper, leaving his present behind, and carried her dog towards the Fiat parked in the driveway. “Does this run?” she asked.
“Yes, it runs,” Jessie said as she clicked the locks open on her car.
Mavis seated herself, settling her dog on her lap. “Jonathan works on cars too.”
“Who is Jonathan?”
“My son,” Mavis said in a voice that said she would like her to start paying attention. “He is amazingly talented.” The blue haired dynamo beamed with motherly pride. “Oh, by the way, he’ll be here after six.”
She was really going to have to p
ay Lucifer’s mother more attention, Jessie realized as she started the motor and smiled at the two of them nestled in the passenger’s side of the car. Jessie cleared her throat. “So what do you think is making the holes?”
“Ever since that article came out a few months back, there has been nothing but trouble.” Mavis tsked. “I really wish I’d had nothing to do with it. Not the holes mind you, but the article.”
“What was the article about?” Jessie asked.
“It was horrible, if you can imagine.” Mavis sniffed. “I only gave that Parker woman information on the history of my family, mind you. My maiden name is Bancroft and, unfortunately, my son and I are the last of the line.” She lifted her chin with pride. “The home your aunt is living in right now was built by my great-great-great-great grandfather. Why, I was the one who placed it on the historical register.” She sighed, then added distastefully, “To think that busy bee . . . uh . . . woman turned my genealogical background into an article on hauntings and treasure just upsets me no end.”
“How do you think this even remotely applies to the holes?” Jessie asked her.
“In the past it’s been mostly teenagers pulling pranks, digging for treasure.” Mavis sighed again. “It seems to be a favorite pastime around here for them, but ever since that article, the gophers have been awfully busy if you get my meaning.”
Jessie wondered if Mavis would think her crazy for asking her next question, but she just had to know. “Do you think the house is haunted?”
“Oh no, dear,” Mavis scoffed. “No one has died there, and if nothing else, I do know the history.”
“When did this article come out?”
“A few months ago,” Mavis said. “Don’t worry, dear. Jonathan says it should blow over soon.”
~*~
“No, dear,” Mavis said as she peered over at her from across the small café table. “It’s still there.
Jessie wiped the powdered sugar from her chin with a napkin and looked at Mavis. She was getting decidedly tired of the no dears . . . among other things.
Treasure of the Jaguar Warrior - Mystery of the Mayan Calendar (Paranormally Yours) Page 2
