The Haunted Heist

by Angie Fox

  “Let’s get you both inside,” Ellis said. He eased out of the car, cradling the urn, and walked around the back to open the door for me.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t see that chase,” I said, my legs a bit weak. Good thing he’d been with me for it. “Where did you learn to drive like that?”

  “Advanced Vehicle Operations course,” he said, letting me get out. He picked up Frankie’s favorite gun from the floor, examined it to make sure it wasn’t loaded, and tucked it into the back of his jeans.

  We made our way up the back steps and I let us inside, holding the door open for Ellis and what was left of Frankie.

  I lit a fat, orange, three-wicked candle with shaking fingers.

  “Come here.” Ellis opened his arms to me and I went gladly, letting him pull me close while I rested my head against his chest.

  “I hope Frankie’s okay.” He had to be okay. We couldn’t have come this far for nothing.

  He placed the gun on the counter, next to the urn. “Me too,” he said, drawing me close and simply holding me.

  I didn’t know what I would have done without him tonight. “You were amazing.”

  He huffed and I felt the vibration against my cheek. “You were pretty brave yourself.” We stood in my kitchen and enjoyed a moment of peace. He wasn’t mad about his car. He didn’t go on about the speakeasy under his property. He simply drew circles on my back with the lightest touch of his fingers and I let him.

  We listened to the crackling of the candle and the howl of the wind outside. I felt safe, ensconced in the quiet darkness with him. I enjoyed the warmth and the peace, and vowed to hold onto it for as long as he’d let me.

  His stomach growled and I couldn’t help but smile. “Sorry about dinner. I’m sure it was delicious.”

  “It was. Lauralee made it at the diner.”

  My heart lurched. “So she knows.” I’d wanted to be the one to tell her about us.

  He drew away slightly in order to look down at me. “Give her some credit. She and Tom had odds going on when we’d make it official.” He nestled me back into his arms and rested his chin on my head. “Thanks to us, Tom’s doing dishes for the next week.”

  “In his house, that could be a full-time job,” I joked, still nervous but also giddy and flush with the possibilities that lay in store for us.

  He grinned and brushed his lips against mine for a sweet lingering kiss that would have turned to more if an impatient gangster hadn’t cleared his throat.

  I stepped back. Frankie stood way too close and appeared as if he’d swallowed a bug. “Is this my life now?” he asked, impatient. “I gotta wait until you two get done canoodling?”

  “Frankie!” I nearly hugged him without thinking. “You’re all right!”

  He stepped away and held up his hands like he was afraid I’d hug him, too. “Easy there, sweetheart.”

  A round indentation marred the skin next to the bloody bullet hole on his forehead. “Oh, you poor thing.”

  “I bled out all over the floor,” he said proudly. “It was a mess.”

  “I’m happy for you. I think.” I turned to Ellis. “Frankie is fine.” At least as fine as he ever was.

  “Sure, I passed out,” he said, clearly enjoying the telling. “And when I woke up, I was standing on your porch. Woulda been nice to see what happened to the rest of the guys, but all in all, it was a good shooting.” He looked past me to the counter. “Hot dog. You got away with my gun.” We stepped aside so Frankie could run his fingers through the cool metal as if he could actually touch it. “I love this gun,” Frankie said fondly. “It was my second-favorite gun.”

  Wait. “I thought that was your favorite.”

  “Nah,” he said, shrugging it off. “My favorite didn’t turn up down there.”

  “So you had me risking my life over your second-favorite gun?” I’d been willing to go after his favorite gun, the one he’d had on him when he died, the one that might help to set him free. But this one? Of all the reckless, stupid, insensitive moves. “I could have been killed!”

  “But you weren’t,” Frankie said, as if that made it right. “Now what do you say we bury this sucker?” he asked, rubbing his hands together. “Most of the guys should have woken up by now. I want to go back to the party.”

  I wasn’t about to let him off that easy. “After I risked my life for you, the only thing you’re worried about is your party? I was afraid we’d left part of you back there, that you were trapped.”

  “I wish,” he mused.

  “Fine.” I grabbed his precious gun and his urn, and I carried them over to the trash can.

  “Let me,” Ellis said, sounding as frustrated as I felt. Of course, he’d overheard my part of the conversation. He helped me dig a nice, deep hole while Frankie watched. Then I placed the revolver in it and covered it over with dirt.

  “There,” I said. “I hope that works.” Even though I had serious doubts it would.

  Frankie stood anxiously, like a kid ready to try out a toy for the first time. “This is gonna sound nuts, but I feel it. It’s like…I’m lighter. On my way to free,” he added with relish. He pointed a finger at me. “Now don’t go all soft on me. See you around.” With that, he disappeared.

  So much for a fond goodbye.

  “Is he gone?” Ellis asked.

  I waited for a moment. “I’m not sure.”

  The kitchen remained silent. The candle flickered and a rosebud, half bloomed, tickled my elbow. I even saw Lucy emerge from the parlor. Perhaps Frankie had gone.

  But Lucy fled with the swish of a tail when Frankie reappeared next to the trash can.

  “I’m still here!” he said, throwing up his arms, as if he’d been the one risking life and limb. “I got up to the property line a little easier, but when I tried to walk through—no dice!”

  Matthew had said he could be free if he buried the thing he loved above all else. I was pretty sure his second-favorite gun wouldn’t count, but I didn’t want to discourage him. “Maybe it takes a little time.”

  “Because I haven’t spent the last five months waiting,” he bit out.

  “Well, in the meantime,” I said, trying to take his mind off his problem, “there’s another issue that we can solve tonight. I still seem to be hooked up to your power.”

  “For the love of…” He eyed me and I could tell he was looking at me carefully for the first time tonight. “Stand still.”

  He yanked it back so fast even Ellis felt the spark. He jumped back as if I’d given him a huge dose of static electricity.

  “What was that?” Ellis demanded.

  I bent over, getting my bearings. “That was Frankie being a jerk.”

  The gangster smirked. “Be careful. It backfires sometimes.”

  “No kidding. I thought I was supposed to lose your power the minute I leave a property,” I told him. “What changed?”

  “That’s my little rule,” Frankie said, “not a natural law. Otherwise, I know you. You’ll take advantage.”

  “You mean like when I shot Crazy Louie in the leg to get your gun?” I challenged.

  Frankie grinned wide. “You should have shot him in the balls.”

  “They chased us,” I said. “I had to dodge bullets. Ellis took us off road.”

  “You’re just trying to make me jealous, aren’t you? Now I’m going to have to hear all about it when I go back and see the guys. If I ever get back,” he added, frowning at his memorial trash can.

  “We’ll figure it out,” I promised. We would.

  “Yeah?” Frankie challenged, planting his back against the wall, staring at the rosebush in the dirt, “Well, I’m not leaving this spot until we do.”

  Chapter 17

  Ellis stayed until well past midnight, and when I woke the next morning, I found Frankie sitting in the same spot as before. He still squatted with his back against the wall, staring at the trash can.

  “Anything yet?” I asked, wiping the sleep from my eyes and squinting
against the bright clear day. I really had to find some curtains. Maybe Goodwill had gotten some cute ones in.

  “No,” the gangster muttered. Just the one word to acknowledge my presence.

  “All right.” I gave him his space to brood and headed to the kitchen to peel a banana for my skunk and me to share. That was when I missed the chilly, wet kiss of Lucy’s nose on my ankle.

  Looking up, I saw the swish of her tail as she disappeared into the laundry room.

  I divided the banana onto two plates and began slicing it into bite-sized chunks. “Have you been staring at that trash can all night?” I prodded.

  “Yes,” he said, not moving.

  “Ah, so you’re not in the mood to talk about it,” I said, reaching into the cabinet for the Vita-Skunk mix. Lucy required a special nutritional supplement, seeing as not one pet-food supplier made actual skunk food. She didn’t think it tasted so good, so I mixed it in with her favorite treat to make it better.

  Too bad there wasn’t a Frankie version of mashed banana.

  “Maybe you can take a break and, I don’t know, make a few cold spots,” I suggested to the ghost. “I’ll watch your trash can.” He needed to find something more constructive to do.

  “I’m fine,” he gritted out.

  “Offer’s open if you change your mind,” I tossed over my shoulder as I headed to the laundry room to deliver Lucy’s breakfast. She obviously had no intention of sharing her space with the ghost, and considering his mood, I didn’t blame her.

  She and I sat on the floor and broke our fast together next to a washing machine and dryer that were probably older than me.

  “This just isn’t like him,” I confided to my girl. The gangster still hadn’t moved. “He usually bounces back faster than this.”

  Lucy grunted and ate with gusto. She liked my cooking.

  Afterward, Frankie stared at the trash can while I cleaned up; then he stewed some more while I did some work calling local businesses to see if they might be interested in meeting with me about their marketing and branding needs.

  None were. At least not today.

  I also noticed that some of the rejections had gone from polite but firm to downright terse. Yes, Reggie had died in the middle of a meeting with me, but I hardly thought it had anything to do with our plans to work together.

  I lost my pep after the twelfth rejection, even though I reminded myself that I was a dozen nos closer to a yes. I’d made progress. All the same, I decided to call it a day and try again tomorrow.

  Frankie didn’t even offer to commit armed robbery or suggest I open up my own money-laundering business.

  He moped through lunch. Afterward, he ignored me while I swept up a few tiny bits of dirt we’d spilled while digging last night. I returned them to the trash can and then went ahead and hand-scrubbed the floors on my hands and knees, cleaning around him when he didn’t feel up to moving.

  By late afternoon, I couldn’t take much more of his gloomy mood.

  “Frankie,” I said, approaching him. With a sigh, I slid down the wall and sat next to him. “I’m worried about you.”

  He narrowed his eyes and refused to turn his head to acknowledge me.

  He’d seemed okay at the speakeasy last night. He’d even had fun seeing his friends and getting his gun. But that joy had dissipated with every hour that passed since we planted his gun next to my rosebush. I’d never seen him this down. “I’m sorry you got your hopes up.”

  He glared at me. “You’re sorry, sweetheart?” he snapped. “My entire future is in your dented old trash can. It doesn’t get any sorrier than that.”

  “I’m trying,” I said. “Do you still feel different? Last night, you said you felt a little lighter.”

  He stood up off the wall. “Maybe. It’s hard to tell. Whatever it is, it don’t matter. I still can’t go anywhere. I can’t live.” He took two steps away from me and turned back as I climbed to my feet. “Do you know what it was like to be in the middle of that bar fight last night?”

  “Yes. It was awful.” I’d been terrified.

  He opened his arms wide. “It was amazing! Best time I could’ve had in fifty years, and that includes when I was laid up with a bullet to the skull.”

  “I’m so glad you’re okay.” I could hardly see the dent anymore.

  His nostrils flared. “Now those guys can do it all again tonight. Or they can smash booze bottles. They can run numbers, lay cash on the ponies. They can do whatever they want, and I gotta sit here watching you play house with a skunk!”

  With that attitude, it was no wonder Lucy didn’t like him. I ignored his harsh words and tried to focus on what had truly upset him. I understood what it was like to want something badly and not be able to have it. “We got your gun. We’re making progress. Focus on how good it feels to be on the right track.”

  “On the…” He spun in a circle, clenching his fists. “I got my gun. I should be free. Not in bits and pieces, but now!”

  Well, the world didn’t work on a Frankie time schedule. We’d done everything we could. I’d even got shot at last night. For him. “I’m trying!”

  He ripped off his hat and threw it straight through my back wall. “This is a demented scavenger hunt! And it’s only the beginning! How much stuff do I gotta find to end this?”

  I scrubbed my hands over my face. “Matthew said whatever is going to free you has to mean something to you, Frankie. It can’t be your second-favorite afterthought because ooh, look, it’s shiny.” There were no quick cures, no instant fixes. “What did you really care about in life?” I demanded.

  The gangster clammed up and refused to even look at me. He dropped back down to his place on the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees, staring at the trash can.

  I cleared my throat and fought the urge to apologize. I had nothing to be sorry for. “I’m going out in about an hour,” I told him. “Lauralee and I are taking Em out to the diner. Would you like to come?”

  He didn’t bother looking up. “No.”

  I considered tempting him by describing the Native American encampment I’d seen in the diner parking lot last night, but opted to leave the gangster in peace. Even I knew sharing a bonfire with a native tribe wasn’t the same as knocking over an armored car.

  “I’ll be back later tonight to take you to the cemetery,” I told him.

  He leaned against the wall, one leg up, one leg stretched out in front of him. “Maybe Henry will be there,” he said absently.

  I hoped for both our sakes that he was.

  Frankie wasn’t any better when I left to pick up Lauralee for our dinner date with her cousin.

  Focus on what you can control.

  When I got to her house, Lauralee stood waiting on the porch. “Did you see the Sugarland Gazette?” she asked, holding up a copy.

  “No.” I couldn’t afford the paper. I probably didn’t want to see it anyway. “Ovis’s article came out today, didn’t it?”

  She handed it to me. “You can read it on the way. I’ll drive.” She walked around to the driver’s side of her blue minivan. I opened the passenger-side door and two bottles of Elmer’s glue spilled out onto the driveway from a seat packed with white and brown felt, a packet of huge googly eyes, acrylic paints, a broom, a flat section of acrylic PVC pipe, and an assortment of plastic fruit.

  “Do I want to know?” I asked.

  “Gosh.” Lauralee cringed. “I forgot that was in here.” She went to move it to the backseat, but both back rows appeared to be in worse shape than the fairgrounds after the carnival had been through town.

  “I’ll drive,” I said, quickly, sparing her any explanations. Her children were happy and well-adjusted. She didn’t need to have a clean car, too.

  “Tommy Junior landed the role of the Sugary Molar in the Happy Tooth Opera,” she gushed, cheering up, “only he needs me to make him a costume. I just figured out how to make him a life-sized toothbrush. Thank God for Pinterest.”

  “Let me know when
it is and I’ll put the show on my calendar,” I said as we walked to my car.

  “I will.” She slid inside. “Now, about the paper. Since you can’t read for yourself, I’ll tell you. Ovis is claiming some awful things. He said Reggie had a stolen watch in his pocket, from a dead gangster’s grave, no less.”

  “I heard,” I said, starting up the engine.

  “And this Handsome Henry is Reggie’s great, great uncle. Which makes him my relative, too. We always knew we had a mobster or two in the family, but I never thought Reggie knew much about it. And I have no idea why he’d have the man’s watch.”

  “Wait.” I paused, my hand on the gearshift. “So Handsome Henry Hagar…”

  “His mother was a Thompson,” Lauralee said. “They’d had a falling out with the family, and we don’t have any stories or pictures, but he’s buried next to her in our family vault. I’ve seen his name there in the crypt, I just didn’t realize who he was.”

  “Wow,” I said, throwing the car into reverse and pulling out. “I don’t know what to make of that.”

  “Henry sounds like a really ruthless guy from what Ovis found, and my uncle died the way Henry used to kill people,” she said, tearing up. “When I read it, I rushed right over to see Em, but she refused to answer the door. She’s not answering her calls,” Lauralee said, her breath catching. “It’s awful.” She strained to see out the passenger-side window, as if catching a glimpse of Em’s house would make everything better. “I don’t know if she’s going to be any better tonight. She barely talked to me through the door last night, but I got her promise to come out with us.”

  “This will be good for both of you,” I said, driving the short block to Em’s place. “Just take a deep breath and try to relax. I’m nervous sitting next to you.”

  “This whole week has me twisted in knots,” she said, running a hand through her wild auburn hair.

  That was because she felt so deeply. I felt lucky to be counted among those she cared for. “We’ll work this out,” I promised, firmly believing we would.

  I found a parking spot on the street one house away and took that instead of pulling in the driveway. I didn’t want to be presumptuous and assume Em would want to ride in my beat-up old car. Although my old Cadillac should go a long way toward making her thankful for whatever modest car Reggie had purchased for her.