“Piss on you, Toots. I was only going to have one. Three is my limit, remember? Or it is today.” Sophie turned to Miguel. “One Tom Collins, please.”
“Right away,” he said.
Miguel quickly disappeared, allowing them to continue their conversation in private.
“I know that, but I also know how you fall asleep when you’ve had a few too many. You have to stay awake in order to set up all your equipment to capture the sounds and images of the ghosts, and I for one am going to make damned sure that you do it. My ass—hell, my sanity—is on the line here. What would Abby think if she knew I was seeing ghosts?”
Sophie finished off her ice tea. “Nothing. Abby isn’t a judgmental person. You should know that by now. Unlike her mother, I might add.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Toots flared.
Sophie picked up the white linen napkin, wiped her mouth, and reached for a cigarette.
“We can’t smoke here, remember?” Toots reminded her. “Now go on, tell me what you meant. You think I’m judgmental. Give me an example.”
Sophie deliberated a minute, then spoke up. “I can’t think of anything offhand. But I’m sure that you are. I am, and we’re two peas in a pod. So there.”
Laughter from the table across from theirs forced Toots to glance at the occupants. A young girl was laughing at something her mother, or maybe an older sister, was saying. Toots wanted to make sure she hadn’t overheard the talk of ghosts. Toots knew that if she heard someone discussing such an insane topic, she would laugh, thinking the speaker was one slice short of a loaf. Apparently the pair were simply laughing about something else, enjoying their lunch, because they never once looked in her direction.
Not only was she seeing ghosts but also she was becoming paranoid. She cast a glance at Dr. Sameer’s table. Gone. He and Amala had managed to slip out without being noticed. Strange, Toots thought, that they didn’t stop by their table to say good-bye. Then she remembered that Amala hadn’t seemed to be her usual charming self. Maybe it was the thought of turning thirty.
“Earth to Toots?” Sophie fanned her hand back and forth in front of her face.
“What?”
“You’re not listening to anything I’m saying, are you?”
Miguel appeared with Sophie’s drink, saving Toots from having to reply.
“How can I not hear you? You haven’t stopped flapping your jaws since we arrived. And we are not two peas in a pod, absolutely not, no way. I’m not judgmental either. I simply call things as I see them.”
“Oh, and that’s not being judgmental? I see. I guess the rules don’t apply to you.” Sophie grinned.
“Shut up, and let’s order. I for one am damned sick and tired of eating all those fruits and vegetables Mavis has been shoving down my throat.” Toots scanned the menu, then tossed it aside as their waiter approached the table to take their order.
“Two Kobe-beef burgers, medium rare, loaded with extra cheese and triple the mayo. And I’ll have a double order of fries. Add some ranch dip, too. I haven’t had a decent meal since forever.”
“Mavis would kill you if she were here,” Sophie said, then added, “I’ll have the same.”
The waiter wrote down their order and scurried away.
“Yeah, well, thank goodness she isn’t. I don’t think I can survive much longer on that junk she’s been feeding us. My body isn’t used to all that fiber.”
Sophie laughed. “We’re a friggin’ pair, aren’t we? Bitching about poor Mavis, who’d give anything to be eating the artery-clogging meal we’re about to have. Whatever you do, don’t tell her we had beef. She’s all but stopped eating red meat.”
Toots took a sip of her tea. “Good, she doesn’t need it anyway. I want to take her shopping, but she keeps insisting on remaking her old clothes. I wish I were more like Mavis.”
“Yeah, she is one for the books. She likes to sew, so let her. Some of her new designs, or remakes as she’s calling them, are much better than the originals. Maybe she could have a second career in fashion. Who knows? I need a cigarette. I’m going out front to smoke while you wait for our food.”
Toots rolled her eyes. “Be my guest. That’s considered rude, just so you know.”
Sophie looked left to right, and when she saw no one was paying her the slightest bit of attention, she stuck out her tongue. “Like I give a good rat’s ass. I’ll smoke one for you.”
Sophie raced off before Toots could respond. Toots needed a few minutes alone with her thoughts anyway. Last night’s event—no, she couldn’t call it an event; that word was reserved for funerals only—last night’s haunting had scared her much more than she’d let on. Part of her questioned what she’d seen. Had she actually seen a ghost? Ghosts? Or, and this was what really frightened her, were the mysterious figures just figments of her imagination? Was she losing touch with reality? Maybe the haunting was an early sign of Alzheimer’s disease, or a brain tumor. When she’d mentioned those possibilities to Sophie, she had been serious. Toots wasn’t sure which was worse—the possibility that she had a mental illness or that the $3.8 million house she’d purchased had come with its original owners: ghosts. Either way, she was not a happy camper.
Before she continued down that depressing path, Miguel appeared with a heavy tray laden with four giant-sized plates. “You ladies have the appetite of bears.”
“Yes, we do. I was never one to order lettuce and act like I wasn’t hungry. Give me a good burger, and I’m a happy woman.”
“Yes, Miss Toots,” Miguel said as he set a huge plate in front of her.
“I’m guessing we’ll want dessert, too,” Toots added. Her sweet tooth needed a major fix.
Sophie slid into her empty chair. “I love to smoke. I don’t care how bad it is. I was considering quitting, but why bother?” She raked her gaze over the plates of food. “You know we’ll never eat all of this.”
“Speak for yourself,” Toots said before taking a large bite of her hamburger.
Sophie leaned across the table. “You’re never going to guess what I just saw.” She plucked a fry from her plate, dragging it through a mound of ketchup.
With her mouth full she couldn’t speak, so she motioned with her hand.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Sophie said.
Toots swallowed and was about to reach across the table and slap Sophie in her smart-ass mouth, but thought better of it. “What? I’m only asking once.”
“Dr. Sameer and Amala were waiting outside. Apparently they have a limousine, not sure if it was his or maybe he rented it for Amala’s thirtieth birthday. Whatever, I thought it rather odd when I saw Amala practically shove her tongue down the limo driver’s throat. She kissed him like she couldn’t wait to drag him into the sack. Hell, for all I know, they could be knocking one off in the backseat as we speak, though I doubt it. With her father present, it’s unlikely. I’m sure she’s learned a bit of control. I’m just saying . . .”
Toots considered this bit of news, unsure what to make of it. Then she decided she agreed with Sophie. “Not if she’s tonguing the driver in the parking lot; that’s anything but control. This is rather strange. She doesn’t look like the type to go for the hired help. Maybe the limo belongs to her father, or maybe the limo driver owns the damned thing and he’s her boyfriend. I’ll mention this to Ida. If Dr. Sameer owns a limousine, she would know.”
“True. I think Ida is having a fling with Dr. Sameer.” Sophie took a small bite of her hamburger. “This is what food is supposed to taste like. Poor Mavis.”
Engrossed in her meal, Toots waited until her hunger was satisfied before continuing their conversation. “Ida loves all men, Sophie. She acts like a slut no matter who they are. What makes you think she and the good doctor are an item? She hasn’t been to see him in . . . I can’t remember when her last visit was. Maybe I am getting Alzheimer’s. Have you noticed anything odd about me lately? Have I been acting strange, forgetting things?” Toots feared her
grip on reality was slipping and she had no control.
“Oh, frig! To quote you, ‘You’re as full of shit as a Sunday outhouse.’ No, I don’t think you have Alzheimer’s; nor do I think you’ve been acting odd. You always act weird, Toots, that’s just the way you are. You’ve let this ghost story frighten you too much. Ghosts aren’t necessarily a bad thing. I tell you what, when we get back to the house, not only will I set up the camcorder and the electronic voice-phenomena recorder, but we’ll have a séance, too. We can have Ida and Mavis join us. We need more than two people. We’ll tell them it’s just for fun.”
Skeptical, Toots asked, “And you think they’ll believe you?”
“They have no reason not to unless you tell them otherwise.”
Toots pondered Sophie’s idea of a séance. “Exactly what happens if a ghost does appear?”
“Hell if I know. I’ve been to a few séances when I lived in the city, but I never saw any ghosts or anything even close. A séance is simply a means of trying to make contact with the ghost, spirit, or a dead person. You can use a Ouija board, but I’ve heard that’s dangerous. Some believe it opens portals into the unknown, allowing evil spirits to enter. We won’t be doing that.”
Toots took a bite out of her second hamburger. “I still can’t believe we’re talking about this . . . craziness. You sure you don’t think I’m losing my mind?”
“Not at all. If I thought that, I would drag your old ass to Dr. Sameer’s clinic in a heartbeat.” Sophie laughed.
Toots almost choked on her food. “Don’t you dare! I would kill you first. I’m going to tell Abby about him. Maybe she can do a bit of investigating on the side, see if he’s registered with the American Medical Association and all the places any good doctor would register.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that? You said he came highly recommended by your doctor. Are you having second thoughts about him? He sure as hell fixed Ida’s problem in a hurry, I’ll give him credit for that.” Sophie tossed her napkin on top of her plate. “I’m ordering dessert before I get too full.”
Toots smiled and took one last bite of her burger before giving up. As usual, her eyes had been bigger than her stomach. She should’ve ordered dessert first. She swigged the last drop of her ice tea. “Yeah, I’m ready for a sugar rush, and if Joe Pauley recommends someone, you can bet they’re the best. I’ve trusted the man with my health for more than twenty years. Sameer did cure Ida of her weirdness, so he can’t be all that bad, but there’s something about him that gives me the creeps.” Toots removed her lipstick from her clutch purse, reapplying her favorite warm peach color. “Again, it’s probably nothing more than an old woman’s paranoia.”
Miguel appeared at their table with the dessert menu. “Ladies, will you be having another beverage with your dessert?”
Toots rolled her eyes, “Yes, we’ll both have coffee, heavy on the cream and sugar. I’ll have the red velvet cake.”
“Ditto for me,” Sophie said.
Toots waited for Miguel to leave before she resumed their conversation. “The next time I talk to Abby, I’ll ask her if she can run a check on Sameer. Though she might not have time, since she’s going to have her hands full with her new assignment, which, by the way, will put The Informer on the top of the tabloid totem pole.” Toots hadn’t told Sophie about the upcoming interview with pictures of the Pitt/Jolie clan. She’d kept quiet long enough.
“Oh, I didn’t know she was out pounding the pavement again. I thought editor in chief was her new job.”
“She’s not, and it is. For now anyway.” Toots took a deep breath, knowing Sophie would be as excited as she was. “Abby received an e-mail from Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie’s publicist inviting The Informer to interview them, and, get this, they’re letting Abby take pictures of the kids!”
“What the hell! When did this happen?”
“This morning. And it gets even better.”
“How so?”
“She’s asked Ida to be her photographer,” Toots said.
Sophie shook her head. “Ah-ha! So this is why you’re suddenly so concerned about Sameer’s credentials. I knew there was something you weren’t telling me.”
“I’m probably being paranoid again, but this interview is big-time news. I have to protect the paper and Ida, plus I have to make sure my identity isn’t revealed. I would hate for Ida to make a slip of the tongue. Call it a sudden case of I need to cover my ass. And if you’re right about Ida and Sameer, who knows what might slip out of her mouth while she’s wallowing in ecstasy.”
Miguel delivered their coffees and dessert.
“Why don’t we just ask Ida if she’s sleeping with the doctor? There isn’t any reason for her to deny it,” Sophie said.
“If it were anyone else, that would be true. With Ida, not so. She likes to stir up controversy any way she can. We will start watching her closely. Starting tonight. After the séance.”
“You’re sure you want to go ahead and do this?” Sophie asked.
“What choice do I have? It’s either get rid of that . . . presence in the house, or I go nuts and lose $3.8 million.”
“Then let’s get out of here. I have a lot to do.”
Toots took four twenties and tucked them beneath her dessert plate for Miguel. “Come on, let’s go. I don’t want to put this off any longer. Who knows, this time next week I might be locked up in a loony bin.”
Chapter 10
“Ouch!” Mavis said when she stuck herself in the thumb with the needle for the third time. “You would think I’m a novice at this.”
“Why won’t you let me or Toots buy you a sewing machine? It would make your work much easier,” Ida said.
“I have one at home. There’s no need to spend money on something I already have. Besides, I enjoy hand sewing. Keeps my fingers nimble,” Mavis said.
Ida was heading to her room to soak in the tub when Mavis had asked for her assistance with a piece of fabric. Not wanting to appear rude, Ida had said yes, having no clue what she was in for. Now that she stood in the center of the horrid pink-and-purple kitchen like a designer’s dummy with a teal piece of material draped around her, she wished she’d said no. Her ankles hurt and her neck and back muscles screamed for a long hot soak in the tub. However, dear Mavis never asked for a thing, and when she did, it was almost impossible to tell her no. So there was Ida, stuck in the center of the kitchen while Mavis pinned her new design together. Though she was hesitant to speak up, Ida wanted to tell Mavis that she was a size six. Whatever she was making for herself, Ida wasn’t her size, and she would just have to let out all the seams anyway, unless she lost another thirty pounds. Deciding that was what Mavis must be thinking, Ida didn’t say anything, didn’t want to hurt her friend’s feelings, so she continued to hold her arms out like the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz. Just waiting for a heart. In her case she was waiting for a bath.
Mavis turned her around for the tenth time. “Just a little tuck here, and I’m finished.” She had several straight pins with colored heads sticking out of her mouth, making it difficult to understand what she’d said.
Ida wondered how Mavis was going to lift the fabric off her without jabbing her with all the pins, but she kept the thought to herself, knowing that Mavis was an expert seamstress and wouldn’t put her in a position where she could get hurt. Mavis was like that, Ida thought. Kind, loving, caring, not a mean or spiteful bone in her ever-thinning body. She’d often wished she was more like her friend but accepted the fact that she wasn’t.
Ida knew she was mean-spirited, spiteful, and wicked to her three best friends, but that was just the way she was. They seemed to accept her that way. After fifty years, not one of them had declined her friendship. They’d loved her just the way she was. She loved them all in return, but wasn’t the kind to gush on and on about it. They knew she cared about them. Why else would she be there allowing Mavis to poke and turn her around as though she were a mannequin? Friends do such things f
or one another. That was what she kept telling herself. She looked at the clock on the stove. She’d been in the center of the kitchen for almost an hour. If Mavis didn’t finish up soon, she would have to tell her it was time to quit.
She simply had to pee.
Mavis spun her around, eyeing her up and down. “There, it’s perfect! Hold your arms up.” Mavis gently lifted the fabric up and over the top of Ida’s head. Not once did she feel the slightest pinprick.
“I don’t see how you do that, but I’m about ready to bust. I’ll be back.” Ida raced to the downstairs bathroom, took care of business, then returned to the kitchen. In her absence Mavis had set up the ironing board and was stretching the teal fabric on top of it.
“You mean you actually iron that before you’ve finished,” Ida said in complete and utter amazement. “I can’t imagine why you would do that. Isn’t it a waste of time when you know you’ll have to iron it all over again after you’ve finished?”
“I’m ironing the seams down. It makes it easier to sew. I don’t mind ironing. I used to spend Sunday evenings ironing Herbert’s dress shirts when he was alive. It’s a mindless task, Ida, not laborious.” Mavis ran the iron along the fabric, weaving in and out, avoiding all the pins she’d inserted.
“Oh. Well then if you don’t need me anymore, I need to go . . . uh, I have to call my broker.” Ida was about to head upstairs when Mavis called out to her.
“Ida, I saw you this morning.”
Ida stopped dead in her tracks, then turned around to face Mavis. “What are you talking about?” She knew. She just wanted to hear Mavis say the words. Kind of.
“I saw you get out of that limousine.”
Damn! Now what to do?
Temporarily stunned, Ida wasn’t sure what to say. She remained rooted to the floor for several seconds before she gathered her thoughts enough so that she could speak. “Oh, well then . . .”
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