Ghost Gone Wild (A Bailey Ruth Ghost Novel)

by Hart, Carolyn

  Nick waited for me, his eyes flickering uneasily from side to side. He looked even scruffier than usual, hair uncombed, the stubble on his cheeks now bristly, a new tear in his polo.

  “Where is she?” His gaze jerked up and down and all around.

  I tilted my face and concentrated. Funny how I could tell when Dee wasn’t present. “Do we care?”

  “She’s not here right this minute?” His voice was hopeful.

  “We’d know.” My tone was sour.

  “Look”—he tried to smile—“I love Aunt Dee. She was swell to me growing up. But”—his eyes rounded—“it’s spooky to think she’s hovering around.”

  “If it weren’t for her, I could hover, too.” Clearly, my arrival here remained unknown to Wiggins. Obviously, Dee didn’t have the authority to install me as an official emissary. I felt suddenly dizzy. Would she ever tell Wiggins what she had done?

  “Are you all right?” He reached out and touched my arm, then yanked back his hand. “I don’t get it; you’re as real as real. Are you sure you aren’t some kind of ventriloquist? Aunt Dee’s not really here, is she?”

  “You’d better hope she’s at the gazebo at nine o’clock tonight. Everything depends upon her.”

  The kitchen door opened. Jan rushed out. “Nick . . .”

  He held open his arms and she came into them. He held her tight. “Honey, I’m sorry. I’m trying to make it right.”

  “Mother’s terribly upset. It’s awful. She said there were pictures and Cole called her a couple of times and she’s cried until she can’t cry anymore. She wouldn’t look at me.”

  He gripped her arms. “I’ll get them. I promise you.”

  She stepped back, looked up at him. “Nick, I’m scared. Mom’s gone. I can’t find her anywhere.”

  His face creased in concern. “How about her cell?”

  “She won’t answer.” Jan’s voice trembled.

  “Leave a message on her cell. Tell her everything’s going to be okay. Tell her I’m meeting Cole at the gazebo downtown at nine o’clock and I won’t give him what he wants until all the pictures have been deleted.”

  Obviously, Nick didn’t feel comfortable telling Jan the actual plan.

  • • •

  After a quick supper of pizza and iced tea, I excused myself and went upstairs, both to provide Jan and Nick with time alone and to get my head together. I changed clothes and settled in a comfortable recliner. Relaxation didn’t come. I wasn’t worried about the outcome of the evening. If I say so myself, I had everything under control. Except, possibly, Nick’s aunt Dee. I didn’t know why she’d flitted away or where she was, but Nick’s safety was the impetus for all her actions, so I assumed she would be at the gazebo on time.

  If all went well this evening, Nick should be fine. His rescue of Arlene would surely be a plus for him with Jan, offsetting his cocky return to Adelaide. Moreover, no more attacks on him were likely. I felt it had been a masterstroke on my part to warn off the likely suspects. Further, if it had been Cole Clanton who’d shot at Nick, once he had the Arnold property in his grasp he no longer had a motive for wanting Nick out of the way. In fact, Cole would be the cock of the walk.

  No, my concern was not with Nick.

  My concern was me.

  Before this evening ended, I must persuade Delilah Delahunt Duvall to alert Wiggins to my plight. Somehow I doubted she would be moved by piteous entreaties. As for forcing her hand, I had no leverage.

  “Lolling about in sumptuous comfort.” The deep voice exuded disapproval.

  I bolted upright, looked toward the fireplace. Yes, I’d taken advantage of the wood and kindling to light a cheerful fire. Why should I be apologetic? “I wouldn’t need a fire if I could disappear.”

  “Your mistake was to appear in the first place.” Disdain was evident. “When I am on a mission, I make it a point of honor never to appear unless there is no other choice. I’m quite sure I could have handled everything without appearing if it had been possible for me to come back to help Nick. But Wiggins hadn’t put a star on his folder. And Wiggins is such a stickler about avoiding contact between a recently deceased emissary and family.”

  “Honor? Who are you to talk about honor? How honorable was it to trick me onto the Rescue Express and land me here without a return ticket?”

  There was a heavy sigh. A cushion in the sofa opposite me was suddenly depressed. “I’ll be kicked out of the department.” Her deep voice was as doleful as a dirge.

  “Oh.” I understood. She’d transgressed and was terrified that Wiggins would ban her from the Department of Good Intentions. I understood her concerns. Possibly her transgressions were beyond his approval. I cleared my throat. “You could spend more time riding McCoy.”

  “McCoy always rode like a dream. He still does. But, you know, I need challenges. Heaven’s quite wonderful. Everything is perfect. But I miss excitement. I need a chance to use my wits. Working for Wiggins makes me feel alive.”

  I walked across the room, swept my hand until I felt her shoulder. I gave her two pats. “I understand.” I dropped onto the cushion next to her. “But”—and I tried to sound reasonable—“you can’t leave me high and dry.”

  There was no answer.

  “Dee, I’ve fixed everything for Nick, and tonight you can make everything right for Jan’s mom. You’ll help me, won’t you?”

  The cushion next to me was no longer depressed.

  But I was.

  I pushed open the kitchen door.

  Jan moved jerkily away from Nick.

  Had they been in an embrace? I hoped so. Jan’s cheeks were slightly pink. I gave them an approving smile.

  Nick angular black brows rose. He shook his head. “You look like a cat burglar. Black sweater buttoned up, black slacks, black socks, and shoes. All you need is a face mask and the cops’ll arrest you on sight.”

  “I have no intention of being seen by the police or anyone else.” I glanced up at the kitchen clock. Seventeen minutes after eight.

  Jan looked, too. “Mom’s been gone for hours. Why doesn’t she come home?”

  Nick’s voice was gentle. “Jan, you’re driving yourself nuts. You left a message. You told her not to worry, that I was going to meet Cole and get rid of the pictures. How’s your mom about checking her messages?”

  Some of the tension eased from Jan’s round face. “She checks them all the time. I guess it’s okay. Maybe she’s waiting to find out if you succeeded. Nick”—she reached out, touched his arm—“you don’t suppose Mom will come to the gazebo?”

  He looked stunned. “Call her again. Tell her not to come. That might set everything off.”

  Indeed it might.

  Jan quickly dialed, waited, left a message. “Mom, don’t go to the gazebo. Nick will handle Cole. They’ve already agreed. It’s all settled. Nick will let Cole have the Arnold place and Cole will get rid of those pictures. You don’t need to worry anymore. Please”—Jan’s voice shook—“come home.”

  The minute hand moved.

  Jan began to pace. “I wish she’d come home. I’m frightened.”

  “Nick’s going to take care of everything.” I was being generous, but I’ve never been one to insist on taking credit. Success depended upon me and Nick’s unscrupulous aunt. Dee oozed gall—to insist she made it a point of honor never to appear! But Delilah Delahunt Duvall was amply endowed with gall.

  I glanced again at the clock. “Nick, we’ll leave at eight thirty.”

  Jan swung toward Nick. “I’m coming.”

  “No.” My voice was crisp. “Let Nick handle this. I’m afraid you’d tell Cole exactly what you think of him.”

  Jan flushed. “He deserves to know that he’s despicable.”

  “Another day.” I held up my hand. “If you make him mad, your mother might suffer. Stay here. Nick will call as soon as everything’s done.”

  “I’ll call you first thing, Janny. And then I’ll come back.” He gave her a reassuring look.

&
nbsp; She turned away. Her body was rigid, her hands clenched.

  That was the way we left her.

  As I followed Nick across the porch, I was grateful for the warmth of my sweater. All the way to the steps, I expected to hear the door bang open behind us and Jan hurry after us.

  The door remained shut.

  I was relieved at Jan’s acquiescence. Now the path was clear. I foresaw no obstacle to success. I felt buoyant.

  Buoyant? As if I were floating?

  Hope flickered. Maybe my long spell of “here you are, tough it out” was over. Was I once again an emissary in full, able to disappear at will and arrive immediately at another destination? I stopped on the steps, waited for that ineffable sense of “now I’m not” to occur.

  I glanced down at my black slacks. The light from the porch was bright enough to reveal them in their stubborn reality. With little hope, I thought: Gazebo.

  Nope. I wasn’t there. I was here. I glared around the shadowy backyard. Not, of course, that I would see her, since she could be invisible. “Dee, you owe me big time.”

  Nick’s head jerked around. “Where is she?” He rushed to me, grabbed my elbow. “Don’t make noise. What if Jan comes out? I can never explain.”

  I folded my arms, glowered. “Don’t worry. Dee’s not here. But if I ever get my hands on her, she’s going to rue the day.” Big talk, but who had the advantage? I was whistling Dixie. “Come on.” I knew I sounded petulant, but Nick didn’t understand my desperate status. “Let’s go.”

  He opened the driver’s door, stopped. “Are you sure you have to come?” His voice was glum.

  “I may be needed to provide a diversion.”

  He shook his head. “Your plan’s nuts. Cole’s not going to let you grab that cell.”

  I felt that Nick sometimes didn’t really focus. “He’ll never see me. Dee will get the cell phone.”

  “Oh yeah. My dead aunt. You’re always talking about Aunt Dee, but I don’t see her. I just see you.”

  He couldn’t know this was a sore—very sore—topic.

  “I think you’re making it all up about her.” His features weren’t clear in the dark, but his voice was combative.

  “You know something, Nick?” My tone was barely civil. “I’d rather be helping Featherfoots than you. You lack the charm of a Featherfoot, and I doubt you have the IQ of a Featherfoot.”

  “Don’t knock Featherfoots.” His voice was hot. “You should see them sneak up and jump on their prey. You can’t jump fifteen feet can you?”

  “Not now.”

  That went right over his head. I could jump the world in a single bound when I was invisible.

  “A Featherfoot can jump several times the length of its body.” He was triumphant.

  I almost snapped, “Good for Featherfoots,” but refrained. Instead, I was pacific. “Featherfoots are amazing. However, tonight you have to count on me and your aunt.” I slid into the passenger seat.

  He flung himself behind the wheel, but made no move to start the car. “My aunt. My sainted aunt. She’s dead. She’s not here. Drop that for now. Tell me what happens at the gazebo. Run the plan by me again.”

  “It’s very simple.” I was soothing, as if explaining one plus one to a five-year-old, who, I felt sure, would have been on board much more agreeably than Nick. “A block from the park, you drop me off. I’ll slip through the dark and come as near the gazebo as possible. You meet Cole. You promise him the paper agreeing to sell the Arnold property to him for one dollar.”

  Nick patted his pocket. “Got the paper here.”

  “In return he agrees to delete specific photographs from his cell phone. However, nothing is ever really deleted, so we have to get the phone. That’s the only way Arlene will be safe. Cole can’t be trusted.”

  “That’s for sure.” He sounded grim. “How do we know he hasn’t already zapped the pix to his laptop?”

  “Dee will have to check for us.”

  “Oh, sure. Easy as pie.”

  “Why not? You said she wrote thrillers. She has to know about computers.” I might not be charmed by Dee, but I had no doubt she was competent.

  “She’s dead.” His tone was flat.

  I wasn’t ready to cover that ground again. “Leave everything to me. We need to concentrate on the cell phone. Insist he show you the phone so you can watch him make the deletions. That will get the cell out of his pocket and into his hand. Now, it is essential”—I was emphatic—“that you stand at least four feet from Cole.”

  “Four feet?”

  “When the cell phone is taken, he will know there is no way you could have grabbed it from him.”

  Nick pressed the ignition. He curved around in the drive, drove too fast into the street. “Okay, la—Hilda. I’m four feet from the jerk. You’re lurking in the shadows outside the gazebo. Who grabs the cell? A Featherfoot?”

  I was firm. “Aunt Dee.” He seemed to have difficulty mastering simple concepts. Possibly his brain synapses only worked in regard to Featherfoots.

  “That’s what I thought you were going to say. There are no invisible genies in this world. You faked me out, imitating her voice.”

  “Who held your arm?” My tone was sweet.

  “I guess I got a cramp. Anyway, if she’s going to save the day, where is she?”

  I didn’t want to make him nervous, but I had no sense of Dee’s presence. I twisted to look in the backseat. Not that I would see Dee if she were there. I was beginning to worry. Of course, there was still plenty of time.

  “I’m sure she’ll show up.” I tried to sound blithe. I don’t know if I fooled him.

  Chapter 8

  As the taillights of Nick’s car disappeared. I tried to recall the layout of the park. Thick woods bordered the gazebo except for an open expanse on the south. Paths wound through the trees to a pond on the north side of the park. Willows bunched between the pond and the back of the gazebo. A large open lawn stretched from the gazebo’s entrance on the south.

  I ducked into the trees. Soon I was in deep darkness, far from the occasional lampposts along the street. I waited for my eyes to adjust, then moved carefully, wary of unexpected holes and fallen branches. A breeze rustled the leaves of the maples. I smelled the woody scent of firs. An owl hooted not far away, the mournful cry prickling my skin. Twice I heard unexpected crackling and stopped, listening hard. It might have been a deer.

  I reached the edge of the woods. I was standing to the east of the gazebo and I had a good view of the entrance. The nearest lamppost was some thirty feet from the steps, so the gazebo itself was shadowy.

  Footsteps sounded on the concrete walk. Nick hurried toward the entrance. He reached the gazebo, rattled up the steps. As the minutes passed, he moved restlessly back and forth. Occasionally he lifted his arm. I supposed his watch had a luminous dial. He yanked his cell from his pocket, bent over it, fingers moving. He waited, watched, then shoved the cell back into his pocket.

  I considered moving behind the gazebo, where weeping willows afforded a deep patch of shadow, but I wanted an unobstructed view of the interior. I found a pine tree about fifteen feet east of the entrance. I knelt and scooped up a couple of sharp-edged cones, tucked them in each pocket. I could pelt Cole with cones if Dee had any difficulty wresting away the cell phone.

  Where was she?

  I took a deep breath and did my best owl imitation. “Dee-eee-eee-eee.”

  “Only a fool would take that for an owl’s cry.” Her deep voice dripped with disdain.

  I was so relieved she was here, I bit back what I would have liked to say. I swept out my hand, found her, gripped her arm. I pulled her close and whispered, “Nick’s going to insist Cole take out his cell. You need to be right there, ready to grab it.”

  “I do not require repeated instructions.” She was acerbic. “I know quite well what to do. Once I get the phone, I’ll zoom straight to the lake and toss it in.”

  With a twist, she pulled free from my grasp. I was once
again alone in the shadows. But I felt excited because Dee was in the gazebo with Nick, ready to play her part. Everything was in place to confound a particularly unpleasant man. I had no doubt that Dee would play her role to perfection. Cole Clanton didn’t have a chance.

  I pictured her leaning casually against a pine railing, probably in her riding gear, possibly holding a crop. Was McCoy nearby? Did I hear the snuffle of a horse?

  Suddenly I stiffened.

  Nick ducked his head as if something had brushed against him. His face puzzled, he reached up, touched his tangled mop of hair, shook like a dog coming out of water. I had no doubt what had happened. Dee had reached out to touch his dark curls.

  “Don’t spook him.” I willed the thought to her.

  But I was touched. She dearly loved the young man standing there.

  Footsteps sounded. The clock at City Hall began to toll the hour. Cole Clanton strolled into view on the main path. He passed beneath the lamppost nearest the gazebo. He moved unhurriedly with a noticeable swagger, the conqueror coming to claim the spoils of victory. His mouth twisting in triumph, Cole thudded up the steps, stopped a few feet from Nick.

  “All right.” Nick’s voice was gruff. “I’ve got the paper.”

  Cole folded his arms. “Have I told you what a hot ticket Arlene is?”

  Nick took a step toward him, fists bunched. “Stop the trash talk.”

  “Who’s gonna make me? I can say and do whatever I want, Phidippus.” Cole’s tone was mocking.

  Fighting for control, Nick drew in a breath, rocked back on his heels. He forced out the words, his voice harsh. “I’ll give you the paper as soon as you delete those photos.” He drew a folded sheet from his pocket.

  “Not so fast, Spider-Man.” Cole pulled out his cell, held it to one side. “You hold up the paper, bring it close enough for me to read. Then we do a duet: I hand to you, you hand to me. I get the paper, you delete the pix.”

  Nick looked uncertain, possibly remembering my insistence that he stay at least four feet from Cole. Slowly, he took one step forward.

  Abruptly Cole’s wrist was bent back. He gave a shout, but the phone was out of his grasp and dangling in midair. “What the hell?” He jerked his head toward Nick. “What’s going on? You can’t—” Cole broke off and stared at Nick, who was a good three feet distant and, in fact, backing away, and clearly had nothing to do with the seizure of the phone.