by Ann Charles
“Now she’s backing down the hall into the shadows again, motioning for me to follow her.” But he didn’t move.
“You need to follow her. She might have something important to show you.”
“About what? I already know how she died.”
“I don’t know. Maybe something else about Masterson.”
He locked onto my elbow. “Fine, but you’re coming with me.”
I dragged my feet. “What? No, Cooper. I think she wants you to see whatever is back there, not me.”
“Yeah, well I want you to see it, too.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Why are you being so chicken? You took on a shitload of Chimera with just a crowbar.”
“But I could see those things. I can’t see anything here. I’m going in blind.”
“It’s a good thing I’m here then. Come on.” He tugged me along behind him, leading the way into the shadows.
I tried to turn on the lights as we passed the switch, but they weren’t working, of course. I was having bad luck with lights lately.
Up ahead, Jerry’s office door clicked open.
I slinked along behind Cooper, feeling like Scooby-Doo following Shaggy through a haunted castle, only our ghost wasn’t wearing a sheet. Cooper hesitated at the door. Darkness waited on the other side of the threshold.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered.
“I can’t see her in there.” He led the way inside.
Once again, the light wasn’t working. Cooper pulled a flashlight from his belt and clicked it on. The beam flickered for a few seconds, then stayed strong. He shined it around the room while I half hid behind him, worrying Jane would suddenly appear and rush toward us at any second.
After a few seconds had passed and there was still no sign of Jane, my shoulders relaxed. The room looked the same as the last time I’d been in it—same desk, same filing cabinet, same pictures on the walls.
“Do you smell that?” he asked in a low voice.
I sniffed, expecting to smell a trace of Jane’s favorite fruity and floral perfume that she had worn to work daily. Instead, I noticed there was an underlying hint of something aged in a cellar for too long. “Yeah. It’s like mildew or dry-rot.”
“Do you see her yet?” I whispered.
“No.” He shined the light behind us, leading out into the hallway to search one way and then the other before focusing back inside. “She’s not out there either.”
A creaking sound in the room made me clench from head to toe. I glued myself to Cooper’s side, holding his arm in a death grip. “You heard that, right?”
“Jesus, Parker! Would you get off of my foot. You’re crushing my toes.”
“Whatever, crybaby.” I eased back but didn’t let go of him. “Shine the light below the desk.”
He obliged.
Everything looked the same as before, including no creepy dead boss hiding under it staring out at us.
Before I could breathe a sigh of relief, movement at the edge of the halo of light made me jerk back, tugging his arm with me.
The flashlight slipped out of his hand, but he caught it before it hit the floor.
“Damn it, Parker!” he whispered
“Sorry, but I saw something.” I grabbed his wrist, redirecting the beam so it spotlighted the closet. “Over th …”
I froze.
“Fuck,” he said quietly.
I gulped. “You see that, don’t you?”
“I’m standing right here next to you.”
My breath wheezed. “Now what?”
We stared at the open closet door in silence. The same closet door that had been sealed shut for weeks. A flickering glow came up through the trapdoor in the floor that led to the basement—and the Hellhole waiting there.
“Jane told us to stay out of there,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“So, why is she letting us in there now?”
“Good question.” He took a step toward it. “So, who’s going down there first? The big bad Executioner or the guy who knows what he’s doing?”
Chapter Twelve
In the end, I talked Cooper into waiting for Doc and Cornelius before either one of us took a peek down in the basement, which was really more of an oversized crawlspace. When I called Doc, I ended up having to leave a voice mail telling him to come to Calamity Jane Realty’s office immediately, and if he were stuck somewhere, to call me instead. As for Cornelius, I’d opted to send a simple text message with: Closet door open in Jerry’s office.
Neither Cooper nor I wanted to leave the open closet unattended in case Jane tried to close it again, so we hung out in Jerry’s office while we waited for our company to arrive. Cooper had even lodged one of the visitor chairs diagonally into the closet doorframe as added insurance.
I’d found a couple more flashlights in Mona’s and Ben’s desks out front, which were helping to light up Jerry’s office since Jane still wasn’t letting us turn on any lights other than those out front. Too bad Natalie wasn’t here. She might have enjoyed a quiet moment alone with Cooper in the dark.
Me? I just wanted to go home and scarf down whatever I could find in the cheese drawer while basking in the light of Aunt Zoe’s fridge. My stomach rumbled, echoing my brain’s wish. Since Harvey had a date tonight and Aunt Zoe was working, cheese might end up being the appetizer, main course, and dessert, unless someone ordered pizza.
A few minutes after I sent the text to Cornelius, he burst in through the back door. Judging by his robe, striped pajama bottoms, and half-flattened hair, he’d finally crashed after his post-Prudence high and landed in his bed. Thankfully he’d abided by my rule about wearing pajama pants and his robe in my company this time. The sight of his bare knees would have been almost as disturbing as the fact that the Hellhole was accessible again.
He carried a protein shake in his hand, his equivalent to morning coffee.
“Did I wake you?” I asked from where I sat on the corner of Jerry’s desk.
“Almost.” Cornelius set the shake down on the bookcase near the door and rushed to the closet, leaning over the chair to peek down into the trapdoor opening. “How did this come to be?”
“You need to ask Jane that,” Cooper said. He stood by the wall opposite the closet, leaning against the filing cabinet. He was still wearing his unzipped police coat and gear even though I’d tried to convince him to remove his firearm in case someone was shot by accident—namely me.
“Nice pajama pants, Curion,” Cooper added with a rare grin. “Are those silk?”
“Of course, Detective.” Cornelius stepped back from the closet and pulled one of his hand-held ghost-detecting meters from his robe pocket. At least I figured that was what the rectangular gadget was. This one looked new to me with its bright orange case. “I’m sure you know that silk is regarded as one of the highest-quality fabrics.”
I scoffed. “The only fabric quality that the detective looks for is how well it can stop bullets.”
“You’re wrong, Parker.” Cooper crossed his arms. “I also find a fabric’s muzzling abilities important.”
I stuck my tongue out at him.
“Besides resisting wrinkles and repelling odors,” Cornelius continued as several lights flashed on his ghost doohickey followed by a beep, “it adapts to the temperature of your current environment.”
“Are you a silk salesman on the side?” Cooper asked.
“No, but you should try a pair of silk boxers sometime.” Cornelius aimed a crooked smile at Cooper. “It might smooth your somewhat bristly disposition.”
“Lord knows his prickles could use some softening,” I said without thinking, and then laughed at my play on words in spite of Cooper’s glare. “As a bonus, silk is always soft to the touch. I know a certain wildcat who might enjoy that added benefit, too.”
“Keep running your mouth, Parker, and I’m going to cram you down that hole in the floor and sit on the trapdoor so you can’t get out.”
&n
bsp; “If the wildcat you’re referring to is Nat,” Cornelius joined in my fun, “then I know for certain that not only does she enjoy the feel of silk, but she also finds prickly detectives quite pleasant to touch, as well.”
The sight of Cooper’s hard glare made me snort and giggle. “How do you know that, Curion?” he grated.
Cornelius shrugged and tapped a button on his gadget. “Nat called after she returned from Arizona and informed me of your recent experiment with copulation. According to her, the results were successful. Congratulations.”
Cooper cursed.
Still chuckling, I focused back on Cornelius, who was holding the orange gadget in the air toward the closet. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to detect if there is anyone else in here with us right now.”
“Wouldn’t Cooper be able to see Jane if she were here?” I looked to Cooper for an answer. He shrugged back.
“That depends,” Cornelius said.
“On what?”
“Some people believe a ghost can choose whether to manifest in front of the living.” He held up his ghost meter with one hand, pushing different buttons with the other.
“You disagree?” I asked.
“Not at all.”
“So, if that theory is correct, ghosts can play games with the living.” Prudence certainly reveled in messing with me whenever she got the chance.
“I have another theory.” Cornelius was usually big on theories, especially when it came to the non-living. “After years of paranormal investigations in some of the best-known haunted venues, I believe the amount of energy within the entity can determine its visibility level.”
“In other words,” Cooper said, “the stronger the ghost, the more visible they are?”
“Something like that.” Cornelius pushed another button on the gadget and walked toward the doorway. The light from the LED screen lit up his face as digital numbers went up and down.
I thought about Jane’s ability to keep the closet door sealed shut in spite of our attempts over the last few weeks to pry it open. “Would you say that Jane is a strong ghost?”
“Based on the fact that she can manipulate objects through telekinesis in order to communicate with the living, yes.”
“What about Prudence?”
“Your choleric dead friend up in Lead?”
She wasn’t my friend, more of an eternally pissed-off coworker in need of a caffeine hit but the coffee maker was broken. “Yeah, the haughty ghost we all know and don’t love who uses people like they’re puppets.”
“Her ability to take full possession of a human suggests she’s capable of producing a large amount of energy.”
So, good ol’ Prudence was a regular ectoplasmic power station. “Yet, nobody can see her except Zelda, who is supposedly a superb channeler.” According to Cornelius, I was also a good channeler, but apparently Prudence didn’t like to surf on my wavelengths. “Does that mean Prudence is choosing not to show herself in spite of her massive amounts of spiritual energy?”
“Perhaps.” He moved away from the doorway leading to the hall and walked my way. When he stopped in front of me, he held up his ghost meter. His gaze lifted to mine, the LED screen reflecting in his eyes. “Or perhaps you are choosing not to see her. Did you not tell me after we left her residence yesterday that at one time in the past she was visible next to you in your vehicle?”
“Yes.” I sat up straight, stretching my stiff muscles. After all of the shit piled on my shoulders today, they could use Doc’s strong hands to loosen them up again. “But that would be her choosing to show herself to me, not me wanting to see her, right?”
Harvey had been able to see Prudence, too, that day, which meant her visibility wasn’t some unique one-on-one connection with me.
“To be certain, we would need to ask her.” His focus returned to his ghost thingamajig.
The answer would have to remain a mystery for now, because there was no way I was going up there again anytime soon if I could help it. Two visits in the same amount of days was two too many.
Calamity Jane’s back door creaked open. That had to be Doc. I’d told him in my voice mail that I’d leave the back door unlocked.
“We’re in Jerry’s office,” I called out.
“Flower delivery for Violet Parker,” Natalie hollered back.
I looked over at Cooper, whose steely gaze was locked onto the empty doorway.
“You haven’t seen Coop today, have you?” she asked. I heard muffled thumping from out in the hallway. She must have slush on her boots.
“Uh, yeah.” I was staring right at him. I opened my mouth to warn her that he was within hearing distance, but she beat me to the punch.
“Harvey called me earlier.” Her voice sounded closer. A floorboard creaked. “He wanted me to …” She walked into the room and promptly turned to stone, her sights targeted on the man in question. “Oh!”
“Uncle Willis wanted you to what?” Cooper asked, his arms crossed.
She turned to me. “Thanks for warning me, meatball.”
“You wouldn’t stop talking long enough for me to get a word in edgewise, motor mouth.” I looked down at the small paper bag she held in her hand. “What are you doing here?”
“Your aunt told me you were working late, so I decided to stop by and keep you company.” She held up the bag. “Me and a little tequila worm I call José, that is.”
I’d called Aunt Zoe to check on the kids between leaving Doc a voice mail and texting Cornelius. Kelly Wymonds had been there with Addy, which meant her dad had received my earlier message asking him to drop off Kelly to spend the night, since I’d completely spaced on swinging by his house after leaving Prudence’s.
“You’re not answering my question,” Cooper said to Natalie, using his gruff cop voice.
“I’ve always said you were a smart ‘dick,’ Detective Cooper.” Her eyes alight with mirth, she tugged off her stocking cap and stuffed it into her coat pocket. “What are you going to do if I refuse to speak without my attorney present?”
I chuckled. “She has you there, gumshoe.”
“Come here, Beals.” He sounded bossy, but his tone didn’t have the usual sharp edge to it.
She shuffled toward him, holding up her fists like a boxer. “You want some of this, tough guy?” She did a bob-and-weave move in front of him.
He dodged a fake jab and caught her by the wrist, spinning her around and pulling her back against him. His arm locked around her, imprisoning her—although she looked rather pleased about being jailed with nary a struggle to break free.
“Now,” he said next to her ear. I thought I saw him nuzzle her hair, but the shadows could be playing with my eyes. “What did my uncle want you to do?”
“Uhhh …” She shot a wrinkled brow in my direction, and then did a double take on the closet door. “Hey! The door is open.” Then she noticed the tall skinny guy playing with his meter over next to it. “Corny’s here, too.” She returned to me. “Oh, now I get it. You’re working late, but not on real estate.”
I touched my nose. “Winner winner chicken dinner.”
“Where’s Doc?”
“The Oracle is on his way,” Cornelius answered for me.
He was? “How do you know?”
“He sent me a message via telepathy.”
“Don’t make me come over there and pinch you.”
He took a step away from me, shooting me a wary glance. “Your Tall Medium called me about a half hour ago to make sure I was awake.”
I scoffed. “Is Doc your hired alarm now?”
“He wanted to make sure I was ready for tonight.”
Oh, right. I’d forgotten about the séance we were supposed to have. “Are you ready?” Because I sure wasn’t.
“That is inconsequential now. Wilda Hessler can wait.” He held the ghost gadget toward the closet. “We have more important work here.”
“We do?” I groaned a little at that. I wasn’t thrilled to deal wit
h either problem.
Cornelius looked at Natalie. “It’s good you’re here. We’ll need a fifth tonight.”
“If you mean a fifth of whiskey, I only brought tequila,” she jested.
“Natalie doesn’t need to be here for this,” Cooper said.
She pulled slightly away from him. “When you say it that way, Coop, I believe I do.” She gave him a look that dared him to disagree.
He kept his big, law-dog mouth closed.
Natalie was right—he was a smart dick.
“So what’s the plan, Corny?” she asked, looking back at the closet door. “Are we going to sit in a circle and join hands this time while Vi conjures a pissed-off demon, or strip Coop down to his unmentionables and offer him as a sacrifice to whatever ghoulish nightmare might be waiting down in that Hellhole?” She patted Cooper on the chest. “I vote for the latter. The sight of a nearly naked detective makes my engine rev.”
Before Cornelius could answer, I heard Calamity Jane’s back door open again.
I held my breath, watching the empty doorway. Please don’t let this be Jerry swinging by because he forgot something.
Doc filled the doorway, pausing on the threshold. His black coat was sprinkled with white specks. It must be spitting snow again.
Whew!
He glanced around the room as he pulled off his gloves and stuffed them in his coat pockets. His dark gaze stopped on me, his lips curling. “Word on the street is there’s a Hellhole that’s opened up and people are dying to get in.”
“That’s not funny, Doc.” But I smiled while I said it.
“You’re a real comedian, Nyce,” Cooper said, leaning against the filing cabinet again. “I vote we send the funny guy through that trapdoor first.”
“Better me than Killer,” he said, heading over to the closet and peering down into the opening. He pointed at the floor, looking back at Cooper. “Did you drop a flashlight down in there?”
“Nope. It’s been lit up like that since the door opened.”
Cooper and I had contemplated checking out what was lighting up the crawlspace while we waited for Cornelius and Doc, but I’d voted not to touch the crime scene until everyone was here, and he’d agreed to wait. Those old, cobwebby wooden steps leading down into the basement were nightmare fodder for me, offering an opportunity for something to grab my ankles on the way down.
