The Haunted Heist

by Angie Fox

  Frankie poked his head through one of the lower branches. “Just thinking of where I should plant my gun.” He gave me a long look, as if daring me to back off my promise. “Once you help me get it.”

  “Relax. I’m on the job,” I said. “It’s the only job I have.”

  What a depressing thought.

  Lucy wriggled out of my arms and made a mad dash for the front hall. I couldn’t even keep my skunk happy. Well, not with the gangster so close.

  Frankie took stock of my near-empty kitchen. “I could help you open up an underground casino,” he offered, with a fair dose of optimism. “You’d probably be the only one on the block.”

  I slipped off my heels. “I really thought today would make a difference,” I said, scooting the shoes away and taking a closer look at where the rosebush leaned precariously to one side. I tested it for steadiness and found it lacking. “What am I going to do if I can’t get a job?” I asked out loud, admitting it for the first time. The bush, and my career, were both ready to keel over. I snuck a glance at Frankie. “I might not be able to make my design business work.”

  A thorn stabbed me and I drew back, watching the blood bubble over the pad of my thumb.

  He looked at me like I was daft. “Haven’t I been listing the alternatives?”

  “I need to think of something legal,” I specified, taking all the fun out of it for him.

  I’d never wanted anything other than to own my own business, but I had to be realistic. Design wasn’t paying the bills. I might be one of those people who had to give up and move on. The idea terrified me, but so did the alternative.

  I had no money coming in. My only job prospect was dead.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I told the gangster.

  “You know what would make you feel better?” Frankie passed straight through the trash can with his arms outstretched in a way that, if he’d been alive, I’d have expected to become a hug. “How about we go back for my gun?”

  And just like that, the moment was over.

  “You could stand to be a little more sensitive,” I muttered.

  He shrugged. “You’re not the first dame to tell me that.”

  I let it go. “We can’t go back. Not yet. The police are still investigating. And besides, you’re missing your feet.”

  He looked down, to the thin air after his pant cuffs ended. “I’ve suffered worse.”

  He had a point, judging from the bullet hole in his forehead. Still, I wondered if this time had been different. The energy drain didn’t seem as hard on him as usual. He wasn’t usually so eager to go back out again. Heck, we’d come back from adventures before with all of him gone.

  “I have a question,” I began.

  Frankie drew back. “I’m not going into business with you as a ghost hunter.”

  “What?” The thought hadn’t crossed my mind. Even if it would be a way to have my own business. “I don’t want to hang out with you all the time.” Not to mention work with him. “No. I want to know: Did you give me more power than usual back in the bank bathroom?”

  I remembered it hitting me like a Mack truck, but perhaps that was only because he tossed it at me with no warning.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets, as if it were a personal question. “It wasn’t any different for me,” he said, drawing the thought out, “except I actually wanted to do it this time.”

  True. He’d been eager for me to meet his friend. That could have made the difference.

  “I have a feeling I would have enjoyed getting to know Suds,” I said, trying to comfort him. “If he’d been up to it.”

  My phone rang again.

  Frankie’s mouth twisted as if he’d eaten something sour. “You gotta get that,” he said, changing the subject.

  “I hardly think now is the time,” I said, withdrawing. I pulled Frankie’s urn out of my bag and placed it on the counter. “It’ll be Ellis again. I don’t know what to say.” The truth was, his mother’s observations, and her threat, had shaken me. I needed to consider where we were going with this.

  The ghost grinned. “Here you think I’m clueless about people.”

  “I understand subtleties,” I informed him, removing a stack of business cards from my purse. “I read signs.” In a moment of weakness, I pulled my phone out of the bag as well.

  Should I call him back?

  If it had been Lauralee or Melody or virtually anyone else, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But for Ellis, I hesitated.

  “Even I know you have to dial,” Frankie pressed.

  “Not tonight,” I said, placing my phone on the counter. Ellis would want to talk about this afternoon, and I knew in my heart I wasn’t ready. He’d want to fix things immediately, when pushing the issue too soon could do so much more harm than good. We had time and we trusted each other. That would have to be enough for now.

  I picked up Frankie’s urn and decided it should really be back on the mantle in the parlor, where it belonged. With any luck, the gangster wouldn’t follow.

  Ellis and I never could catch a break, even when the hospital patched us up after our last adventure. We’d held hands in the emergency room, but then his brother—my ex-fiancé—showed up. We’d been broken up for months, yet Beau proceeded to break up with me again in front of two women with food poisoning, a nurse on a caffeine high, and a kid with a broken arm.

  After Beau’s outburst, the staff had placed me far from the Wydells, including Ellis, no doubt following the hospital policy on crazy families. Not that I could have visited Ellis’s exam room anyway. I’d heard his mother breaking down from two closed curtains and a hallway away.

  I placed Frankie’s urn on the mantle, lining it up just so. I didn’t know what else to do.

  Ellis had let me go, not that I’d expected him to chase me or anything. In fact, I’d half hoped he wouldn’t. Beau had been the type to chase me down the block, and look where that had ended up.

  I headed for the hall stairs, ready to get out of my interview dress. I needed a change of clothes and a bath.

  Of course, my roommate didn’t take the hint. “I’m no love expert, but you should at least talk to the guy.”

  I halted halfway up and turned. I didn’t know if he was serious or not. “Why, Frankie?” I pressed. “Why do you, of all people, care about what I do with Ellis?”

  The gangster appeared thoughtful for once in his life. “Somebody’s gotta look after you once I get free.”

  I didn’t buy it, not completely. “I was fine before I met you.”

  He stood in the middle of the newel post. “I think you were a little sad.”

  For real? I turned back toward the stairs and kept climbing. “I’m not having this conversation,” I said, retreating toward the bathroom. I was the social one in this relationship. It was my one and only superpower—the ability to relate to people. I didn’t appreciate Frankie insinuating I had trouble when it came to Ellis of all people.

  I wasn’t avoiding my sort-of boyfriend. I just needed to decide how to treat us both fairly. I owed him that and more. I mean, I’d already helped to disinherit his family, publicly shamed his mother, and broken my engagement to his brother. All in the span of about six months. It was a wonder he wanted to speak to me at all.

  I reached for a half-full bottle of lavender suds as I began drawing a hot bath, although at this point, I didn’t think even the bubbles could save me.

  We’d talk tomorrow. I’d ask him how I could help the police. I didn’t have much going for me right now, but I did have this—the ability to make sure justice was done for a man who’d been nothing but good to me. I certainly wouldn’t be too busy with work.

  I remained in the tub until the water cooled, my thoughts churning. I wasn’t usually this unsettled. Although heaven knew, Lauralee had it worse.

  I called her when I got out, and Big Tom answered on the first ring.

  “Verity,” he said before I could even say hello. You’ve got to
love caller ID.

  “Tom,” I began, “I’m so sorry about Reggie.”

  He let out a deep breath. “It’s hard. Lauralee is at EmmaJane’s house right now, spending time with her cousin.”

  “I can take the kids if you’d like to join her.” I’d do anything I could.

  “That’s all right,” he said gently. “EmmaJane doesn’t like me much anyway. But I’ll tell Lauralee you called. She’ll be glad to hear it.”

  “Thanks,” I said, hanging up, wishing I could do more.

  It occurred to me that Em had become EmmaJane again, at least to Tom. It seemed Reggie’s direction had been hard to ignore, even after his death.

  When I ventured back downstairs, Frankie was nowhere to be found.

  I curled up on my purple velvet couch with my skunk and paged through a lovely novel I’d borrowed from the library. These days, Melody only lent me books with happy endings.

  My friend didn’t call back that night. And I fell asleep without quite figuring out how to handle Ellis and his family.

  Still, I knew what I had to do next.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning I dressed warm, in a pink fluffy sweater Melody had lent me paired with white jeans and a pair of sturdy brown leather boots. Then I kissed Lucy on the head and slipped out of the house before I ran into Frankie.

  The gangster wouldn’t be pleased that I’d given him the slip, but at the same time, he would never understand why his presence wasn’t needed on this particular visit.

  I climbed into my grandmother’s old Cadillac and stopped by Sweetbrew for two cups of Lauralee’s favorite French roast. The coffee shop was located just down the street from New For You and the rest of the shops on the main drag, so I only had a few blocks to go before I pulled up in front of my friend’s charming yellow bungalow.

  Lauralee’s neighborhood had been built in the 1940s and boasted picturesque homes with postage-stamp front yards and loving winter touches like wooden snowmen on the front porch and pinecone bird feeders hanging from trees that had grown for generations. I smiled at the colorful, hand-painted birdbath in Lauralee’s front yard. Her kids had decorated it for her as a present. She’d always wanted a busy house full of love and she’d gotten it.

  I just wished I could do something to help her feel better about her uncle.

  Winter boots in a range of sizes and covered with varying degrees of mud crowded the front porch, along with a red wagon that contained more gloves than she had kids. She claimed gloves and socks tended to escape and multiply, although I wasn’t sure I wanted to know how.

  Today was a school day, and if those were the extras… I supposed I still had plenty to learn about children.

  I knocked on the door and heard a high-pitched shriek inside. Ambrose, Lauralee’s three-year-old son, smacked his hands against the front window and wailed his greeting again. In case I hadn’t heard him the first time.

  “Hiya, sweetie!” I waved.

  The front door swung open to reveal Lauralee, with hair like she’d been in a wind storm and eyes red from crying.

  “I’m so sorry about Reggie,” I told her, opening her storm door and reaching out to hug her. She clasped me tight and took several long, deep, shuddering sighs.

  “I just can’t understand why anybody would want to hurt him,” she said, drawing away and wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

  “How are you holding up?” I asked, following her inside.

  “I’ve been better,” she said, her voice small. I closed the door behind us as little Ambrose dumped a plastic bucket of Legos off the coffee table and onto the floor. Pieces scattered everywhere. “I just cleaned those up,” Lauralee said to herself, her voice rising a notch. She looked like she was going to start crying all over again.

  “Here.” I handed her a steaming cup of French roast. “You sit on the couch. Ambrose and I have got this.”

  “Oh, so now you’re the toddler whisperer?” she tried to joke as she retreated to the tan couch. Both hands clutched her coffee.

  I winked at Ambrose and shook the bucket, rattling the three remaining Legos on the bottom. “I’ll bet I can pick up more of these than you.”

  He thrust out his chin. “You can not.”

  And so, we got to work. We made a game of cleaning up the front room while Lauralee took a moment to herself.

  Lauralee had been there for me during some of the darkest periods in my life, from the death of my father to the near loss of my home. I snuck a glance at her. I’d rarely seen my friend so on edge, but it happened to the best of us from time to time. Heaven knew, she’d been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours.

  She relaxed into the cushions and took a long sip of hot coffee, sighing to herself. “Lord almighty, that’s good.”

  “Shucks,” I said, pretending to be disappointed when Ambrose dumped an armload of Legos into the bucket. He was clearly winning the cleanup game.

  Lauralee had dark smudges under her eyes and her skin lacked its usual healthy glow. “You don’t look like you slept,” I told her.

  She rubbed a hand on her forehead. “I can’t. I keep trying to make sense of it.”

  “Me too,” I told her, finding two Legos and an army man under the coffee table. I sat back. “Did Reggie discover something out of the ordinary at the bank, maybe? I don’t think Stan has been completely truthful about what happened that morning.”

  She thought for a moment. “If there was something like that, Reggie never told me.” She leaned forward, clutching her coffee in both hands. “And he would have worked it out. Sure, Reggie had his flaws, but he was a good person. Everybody loved him.”

  I sat back on my knees. “I sure appreciated him giving me a second chance.”

  Lauralee managed a small, wavering smile. “He wanted the best for you.” She played with the paper heat guard on her cup. “Sure, he could get ham-handed at times,” she said, settling back into the couch. “Did he ever tell you how he romanced my aunt when they were in high school?” She let out a small snarf. “Aunt Kelly wanted nothing to do with him. Mind you, that didn’t stop him from declaring her the love of his life and asking her to prom over the loudspeaker at the football game. She wasn’t one to hide from the spotlight—she’d been in every high school musical—but that made her want to die on the spot. But she did let him take her to prom.” Lauralee sniffed fondly. “Later she said she went out with him because she was afraid of how he’d ask her next.”

  “She loved him, though.” I’d seen them together over the years. She’d made a point to come back and visit Sugarland at least a couple times a year. “She kept him grounded.”

  “She packed him a healthy lunch almost every day, even when he was head of a big firm.” Lauralee swirled her cup. “She’d write him funny notes on the napkins. He changed after she died. He didn’t laugh as easily. Reggie always did wear his heart on his sleeve.” She sighed. “I think he was trying to find some part of her here in Sugarland. He wanted that real connection.”

  “He deserved it.” He was right to come back, even if it had ended tragically.

  Lauralee stood. “If we keep talking like this, I’m going to start crying again.”

  “Then what would you like to do?” I asked her, standing. The Legos were in the bucket once more, and Ambrose had moved on to an attempt to use his head as a doorstop.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Lauralee said. “We can go to the park.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, glad she was shaking out of her funk.

  I ran to my car for my winter coat while Lauralee got herself and Ambrose ready. And even though I was grateful to have something warm to wear when a lot of people didn’t, I still cringed a bit while drawing my thrift-store find out of the backseat.

  Lauralee tried to hide a smile as I shrugged into it. She had the toddler in a red wagon.

  “Pretty!” was all he said.

  “Well played, Ambrose,” I told him.

  The red, pink, orange
, green, tan, and silver monstrosity had been the only coat left at the thrift shop in my size and price range.

  I straightened the collar and ignored how it poofed out to one side. “Joseph had his Technicolor dream coat. I have this,” I said primly. Good thing spring would be arriving soon.

  Lauralee laughed again, an honest-to-God belly laugh that she tried to wave away as we walked down the driveway. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that thing.”

  “Don’t. As soon as I get a job, I’m donating it back,” I said automatically. I’d been telling her that all winter. But now…it looked like I might be stuck with the monstrosity a lot longer than I’d planned.

  My friend sensed my change in mood. “It’ll be okay.”

  “I know.” I wanted to say the same thing to her, and to have us both believe it.

  We walked toward the park, enjoying the sunshine, even though the day was cold. The birds chirped and the occasional car rumbled down the quiet tree-lined street.

  “Big Tom said you called last night,” she said. “I appreciated it. I just didn’t feel up to talking.”

  I knew the feeling. I told her what I’d seen, everything except for the shocking state of the body. She didn’t need to know that. But she deserved the truth about the rest.

  We walked side-by-side toward Jackson Park, with Ambrose’s wagon thumping over each section of sidewalk behind us.

  Lauralee sighed. “Reggie didn’t want many people to know this,” she said, glancing up at the branches of the bare trees reaching over us. “But he did lose his way in Chicago.” We paused our conversation for a mom with a stroller walking the other way, and Lauralee resumed when they were out of earshot. “Reggie was always good at business, and with his personality, he brought in all kinds of clients for his mortgage-lending company.”

  “I remember he was a big shot before everything crashed a couple of years ago,” I told her. Reggie would come to family events and show us pictures of his boats and cars. “Even Em got that fancy car when she turned sixteen.”