by Misty Simon
As if to prove her point, she caught sight of Officer Standish trooping down the north sidewalk. There was no way she was going to be able to hide the two new statues. He was bound to ask if this had anything to do with her.
All through her school years, people had known her family was strange. Maybe not exactly why, but they knew they were different. Just owning a junkyard was enough to make some of the wealthier people in town turn their noses up at her name. But the kids knew something more was going on. She’d had a hard time because she used to carry Jeremiah with her in her lunchbox, and when she was lonely, or no one would play with her, she’d talk to him in the lunchbox. Opening the hinged lid and whispering into the box had probably looked even weirder, but it had kept her from feeling so shunned when no one wanted to be near her.
Jeremiah had moved on when she turned eighteen, and it almost broke her heart, but she understood. He didn’t want to stay if they weren’t going to be as close as they had been for years, and he felt like his mission was complete. It was time for him to rest.
And now here she was looking weird again. She’d managed for years to fly under the radar, just doing a few things here and there to help people out with errands or clearing out the bad juju in their homes. Nothing overt like this had happened in all her life. It threatened her existence, and Officer Standish could be the lynch pin if she couldn’t figure this out soon and then take care of it so everyone standing still around her was back to being animated and annoying. Each and every one of them, even Mrs. Buzzard.
“What is all this, Melanie?” Officer Standish asked, walking up and circling around each statue and then coming to stand before her.
She resisted the urge to shrug her shoulders. She had to own this. With Becker off getting more coffee while she and Horace worked, she had no backup.
“I’m told it’s some sort of art project and community service.” How lame was that? He was never going to buy that.
“That’s quite a difference from when we had to volunteer at the nursing home.” He smiled at her, and she instinctively smiled back.
Hell, maybe he was buying it. And all she needed was for him to believe long enough for her to get it solved and unravel the damage.
Fortunately, the radio on his belt chose that moment to squawk at him. He turned away to answer it, and Mel tucked the compass into her pocket. Time was of the essence. She saw Becker walking back toward her and tried to subtly wave him off until she could get rid of the cop.
Of course Officer Standish flicked off his radio and turned back toward her just as she was waving, and she had to fake whipping her hand around like she was trying to chase off a fly.
“Sorry about that. No one can find the dog groomer who’s supposed to be clipping Bruiser’s nails.”
As far as she remembered, Bruiser was a tea cup poodle. She knew better than to address the issue of inappropriate naming with his owner.
“Maybe she stepped out for an ice cream cone.”
“My appointment was for forty minutes ago. Even if she bought a gallon, I’d think she’d be back by now.”
No doubt about it. A thought popped into her head that made her stomach roll. She was afraid it might show on her face.
“Well, good luck finding her. Maybe she went for a massage and forgot the time.”
He shrugged and walked away, and she blew out a quick breath. Should she expect another statue at any minute? The resident dog groomer was about sixty and had been a fixture in the town for thirty years. If this ghost ran true with his statue making, she would be a prime candidate to be next on the square and naked.
With Officer Standish gone, Becker joined her again, and she shared her fears with him.
“Should we try to find her?” he suggested. “Maybe we should ask about who her last client was or who saw her last. If this thing is stealing these people, then he’d have to meet with them at some point, wouldn’t he? He’d have to make contact with them, right?”
“That’s true. We haven’t had a chance to ask anyone, since I’ve been working with the book and dressing marble. Why don’t we split up and see if we can find out who was the last person each of these people talked to, and then go from there?”
Her words rang reminiscent of a Scooby Doo episode, but sometimes Fred really had done the right thing, even if Shaggy and Scooby usually got the bum end of the deal.
“I’ll look into the principal, the librarian, and the ice cream shop owner. Why don’t you concentrate on Mr. Foster and the dog groomer?”
She saluted him and then leaned in for his kiss. A swat on the butt sent her and her jangling bangles on their way. She threw Becker a look of retribution over her shoulder. Smiling back, he whistled on his way to his car.
“Let’s meet back in an hour to go over what we’ve found and then come up with a way to stop it.”
He flipped her a wave and kept walking.
So now she was alone and didn’t quite know where to start. Fortunately, she remembered Horace in her pocket. Stepping into the gazebo, she gave him a heads up as to what they were doing, then waited to see if he had anything he wanted to add to the search.
Just his eyeballs peeped out of the crack in the compass shell.
“Did I hear someone else is missing?” Horace said, his voice hollow in the confines of his home. She really did wonder exactly how big it was in that place.
“The dog groomer hasn’t been seen in forty minutes, and she had an appointment with a cop about an hour ago.”
“So you think she might be next?”
“I can’t really say. I’m going to look silly standing in a gazebo talking to myself. I just wanted to let you know we’re going to ask around about her and the guy who owns the bike shop. If you get any vibes, make the compass vibrate. At your signal, I’ll ask to use the ladies’ room so I can talk to you.”
“You’re sure you’re not using me as a toy?” He sounded skeptical, and his eyes narrowed.
“Horace, this is much too important to do anything but try to get to the bottom of it as quickly as possible. Now remember, vibrate if you feel anything.”
She found the bike shop as clean and chromed as it had been when she had come in for her very first banana-seat bike. Bikes hung from racks and sat in slats on the ground. She knew that in the back the shop was also pristine but with less chrome and more gears, and toolbox after toolbox of parts and chains and other doohickeys that she would have no idea how to use.
The bell rang above the door as she walked in. Honestly, she had been afraid that when she got there, no one would be at the store and the door would be locked. An open door was a very good thing.
A guy of about twenty or so came sauntering out of the back, where the real magic of this place happened. After a second’s appraisal, he gave her a lopsided smile as he wiped grease off his hands.
“Looking to get your New Year’s resolutions started off early?”
It was pure force of will that kept the smile on her face and her curved hand from making contact with his smug smile. She was not heavy, and even if she was, he most certainly was not going to sell her a bike by insinuating she needed one far more than she’d enjoy one.
She decided to let it pass, though, because the more she looked at him the more she realized he looked a lot like Mr. Foster. Maybe his grandson? “I’m looking for Mr. Foster.”
“He’s not in today.” The smile fell as he scratched his arm. “My mom said he might be in tomorrow. I’m running things until he comes back.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Wait, don’t you want to buy a bike?”
“Nope, already have one back at my house. Thanks. Just as a bit of friendly advice for the future, you might want to work on your sales pitch. Even if I didn’t have a bike, I might have gone to a box store where they at least won’t tell me that I’m heavy enough that I ought to be exercising.”
She’d turned toward the door when her pants vibrated so hard she thought someone had hit her with a
cattle prod.
Quickly exiting, Mel left the young man sputtering about how that wasn’t what he’d meant. She didn’t have time to play games. Horace needed to talk to her.
Outside the store, she walked back to the center of town. After a quick glance at the traffic circle, she closed her eyes for a brief moment to brace herself if she saw another statue and to give herself time to adjust to the thought. Fortunately, she only saw the four that had been there before. And that was plenty.
She stepped into the gazebo, hoping for at least some privacy to find out what Horace needed.
His familiar eyes peered out through the rim of the compass.
“What’s up? Did you get a ghost vibe in there?”
“Yeah, a faint one, but one still, and now I should know what to look for when we get closer to where he is currently.”
Well, that was something, at least, and she hadn’t even thought of how that might work. She’d been with the ghosts since she was born but didn’t know all the ins and outs of how they worked, or even who could do what. On the surface, she knew a lot about them from the book, just not everything, obviously.
“Do you get the sense of the ghost here, too?” She probably should have asked that sooner.
“Strangely enough, no, I do not.”
That was something then, too. So the ghost went to the place where they took the people, but it didn’t go to the drop-off for the statue. Interesting, and something to discuss with Becker once they reconvened.
But the pressing question now was where on earth was she going to find the dog groomer? And she absolutely had to find her before another statue showed up on the town square. She was running out of muumuus.
Chapter Eight
Pampered Poochies was just off the main street, on Birch Street. The pretty red-and-white-striped awning overhanging the sidewalk had dogs prancing and frolicking on the material as black silhouettes. Mel pushed through the front door like she was on a mission. And she was. She’d start here to see if Horace could follow a trail that wasn’t so faint.
It was worth a try.
As soon as she walked to the reception area, Horace started buzzing against her leg. The ladies at the front desk looked at her questioningly when she hopped to the side with her hand clamped against the pocket on the side of her cargo pants. With the strength of his shaking, there was no help for it.
“Can I help you?” one of them asked.
She cleared her throat, hoping the vibration wouldn’t affect her vocal chords. “Um, yes, can I use your restroom?”
“Normally it’s only for customers,” the other said skeptically.
Mel would have been skeptical, too, so she couldn’t fault the woman with her beehive hairdo and cat-eye glasses.
“I completely understand. In fact, I’m here to pick up information for my dog, but the urge to pee just hit me right at this second.”
Probably TMI. At least it got her directions to the bathroom, where she pulled the door closed behind her and locked it. Taking Horace out of her pocket, she spoke low enough that the ladies wouldn’t think she was some kind of weirdo for talking to herself in the bathroom.
“What’s up, Horace?”
“It was here not too long ago. The thread is actually stronger outside than it is in there, and it goes to the left.”
“Yes!” She felt the blush run up to her cheeks and watched it happen in the mirror. That shout was probably not the best thing to have happened in a bathroom.
She washed her hands, even though she hadn’t used the restroom for more than talking, then ran the hand dryer shaped like a dog bone.
On her way out the front door, she made sure to thank the ladies for the use of the restroom and got strange looks. Had they heard her shouting? Her face flamed again. At the last moment she remembered to grab a brochure for her imaginary dog.
After taking the compass out of her pocket, she stepped around the corner of the brick building into a narrow alley.
“How are we going to do this?” she whispered to the compass. “I can’t exactly hold you up with your eyeballs sticking out of the compass and have you lead me around the town.”
“Have you ever played Hot and Cold?”
“Not since I was about ten.” Since she hadn’t had many friends, she played more with the ghosts than anyone, so most games had to be verbal instead of moving dolls around a tea set.
“But you know the rules.”
It wasn’t a question, but she answered it anyway. “Of course.”
“Fine then. Keep the compass in your hand. I can moderate the temperature from inside. I’ll warm up or cool down as needed. Just walk around, but start out going to the left.” His eyes crinkled up. “Maybe you should get a coffee to go or something, so it looks like you’re window shopping.”
“I can swing that.”
She put the compass back in her pocket for the moment and placed a call to Becker. He answered on the third ring. “Nothing yet. Sorry.”
“No worries. I’m hot and/or cold on the trail here outside the pet groomer’s. I’ll wait for you if you can get here soon with a coffee.”
“Don’t move. I know you’ve done this kind of thing on your own for years, but with what’s happening, I really would feel better if we were together.”
“Quickly then.” She’d feel better if he was here, too, since, yes, she had been working with the ghosts for years, but she’d never actually had to confront a rogue before. Yes, she was an independent woman, but there was independent, and then there was stupid, as in facing something alone when you didn’t have to. She was not stupid.
Three minutes later, Becker came trotting around the corner into the alley, coffee in hand. After a quick kiss that curled her toes just a bit, he handed over the Styrofoam cup, and they got down to business.
“Convenience store coffee was the fastest thing I could get, sorry, but it sounded like you meant right this second.”
“It’s fine. So here’s the rundown. Horace found a trail, but we’re going to play that game where if we’re going in the right direction he’ll make the compass hotter, and if we are moving farther away then it will turn icy.”
“Are you sure this is going to work?”
Horace rumbled in his compass. She patted the lid and nodded. “Absolutely. Horace is going to rock this Kasbah, so no worries.”
“Let’s get started then. Any indication of where we go first?”
“Left,” she said, hoping against hope that it was really going to be this easy.
****
After an hour of strolling around the town she’d known for all her twenty-six years, she’d seen the front windows of every place in this small area. Twice.
Stepping back into the alley, she creaked open the lid of the compass. “Horace, seriously. How many times could this thing have gone around town?”
His eyes squinted at her. “I’m just following the trail. I didn’t say it was going to be a straight path to the ghost, only that I could follow his trail. Maybe he’s looking for something.”
The next victim? She shuddered to think of it. She hadn’t yet seen a new statue around the gazebo, so he should still have the dog groomer alive and unmarbled. She had to find him before he took another citizen.
Blowing out a breath, she re-centered herself. It would serve no purpose to get upset when Horace was only trying his best. She was a heck of a lot further along than she would have been on her own.
“Okay, let’s try one more time. Is there any way to feel where it’s strongest, or do you have to just keep following the trail?”
“Following the trail is the only way it works for me. But it keeps getting stronger and stronger. I promise.”
“Okay, let’s keep going.”
Her coffee had grown cold long ago. She felt ridiculous as she continually waved to people on the street and the occasional shop clerk who looked up as she passed by their store for the fourth time. She had to find the dog groomer. And soon.
&nb
sp; The sun was sinking in the sky, purples and greens lining the horizon between the buildings. She wouldn’t be able to walk around in the dark after all the shops closed without causing even more suspicion.
Suddenly, the compass burned scorching hot in her hand. She almost dropped it before Horace backed off on the heat. There wasn’t a convenient alley to pop into to ask what the sudden flush of heat meant, so she pulled Becker to her, jerked his hands around her waist and yanked him in close. He leaned down to kiss her, and she put up the hand with the compass in it. “Pretend you’re whispering sweet nothings into my ear while I talk to Horace.”
He laughed even as he did as she asked. Like usual, he was fairly good at distracting her with blatant suggestions whispered right next to her ear. Shivers ran down her back as his warm breath hit her earlobe. She had to ignore it all to concentrate on Horace.
The ghost actually opened the compass all the way. His head and shoulders popped out, looking like a bust in a museum.
“It’s upstairs, and it’s doing something fairly extensive.” Horace closed his eyes for a moment while Mel held her breath. “There’s chanting involved. You’d better get up there right now.”
Becker stepped back before she could ask him to. Shoving the compass into her pocket, she yanked on the door that led to a poorly lit foyer with a set of mailboxes in the wall and stairs leading up.
“I think we’re going to need Horace again. This isn’t one place but a series of apartments.”
She palmed the compass. “Can you tell where it is to an exact point, Horace, or is it just the building?”
Just the eyes this time. “I can’t do more than tell you it’s here. I’m sorry.” The corners of his eyes turned down.
