by Kate Baray
“Sorry?” Charlotte was on her feet and looked ready to go.
“Not important. There’s a cleanup crew on the way to defuse the ward—if there’s still a ward. So we’re good to leave and get you home.”
The walk back to the cars was uneventful, thank God, because all three of them were exhausted. Jack was so tired, even the thought of snakes didn’t faze him as he waded through knee-high grass.
Charlotte asked if Marin could drive her car, and she called her husband on the way home. So when the two vehicles pulled into the Sneeds’ drive, Calvin and his son were both waiting. Effusive hugs and some tears were shared by all three family members. Jack waited just long enough for Calvin to remember he owed them a check. He handed Jack an envelope and pumped his hand enthusiastically.
Just as he and Marin were about to slip away, Charlotte pulled them both aside. “If you’ll head south out of town, you’ll be driving in the right direction to hit a healer I know. When I get into the house, I’ll text you his address.”
Jack drew a breath, intent on protesting.
“No. She’s right, Jack.” Marin peered at him. “It’s either that or we have to stop off at the hospital. You may not be feeling it, but there’s a head injury hiding under the effects of all that witch juice you drank.”
“It’s late—”
Charlotte pulled him into a hug. “It’s fine. He owes me a favor.”
Stepping away, Jack looked a little to the side of Charlotte’s right ear and said, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Jack didn’t argue when Marin took the keys from him and pulled him toward their car.
Marin waved a farewell to Charlotte, and opened the door for Jack. “In.”
It only took them about forty minutes to reach the healer’s house, but it seemed like forever to Jack. He was exhausted but couldn’t sleep—possibly a result of the potion. And he hurt, but in a muted way that he knew wasn’t natural. Hopefully his brain hadn’t been bleeding this entire time. And on that happy thought, Marin pulled into to the healer’s circular drive.
“Hey. How you doing?” Marin poked him in the arm.
“Jesus. Stop already. I’m awake.” Jack opened the door to get out and found that a young man, maybe mid-twenties, with tats and chin-length hair, was waiting on his porch for them. He had a beer in one hand.
The kid put his beer on the ground and said, “Hey, I’m Kai. Have a seat on the porch, and I’ll take a look at you.”
It didn’t take long for Kai to establish that: no, Jack’s brain wasn’t bleeding; yes, he had a concussion; and, sure, he’d be fine to skip the doctor’s office after Kai was done with him.
“But you really need to get some rest, man.” Kai lifted his beer in a toast.
Jack reached out a hand. “Thanks. I’ll do that. And we really appreciate your help.”
Giving Jack’s hand a firm shake, Kai said, “No worries.” Shaking Marin’s hand, he added, “I’ve never actually met a dragon. So—cheers. And you guys drive safe.”
Jack wasn’t sure which one of them would crash first from their endurance potion high, but he wanted them both home when it happened. So when Marin drove like there was a psycho, projectile-hurling ghost on their tail, he didn’t bitch. He might have actually dozed off for a bit because when his phone rang it startled the crap out of him.
Jack almost didn’t pick up, but then he remembered Harrington’s borderline threatening command to answer his phone. Not a number he recognized. He leaned his back against the headrest and answered. “Yeah.”
“Harrington here. Put me on speaker; I have information you’ll both want to hear.”
Jack flipped his speaker on. “We’re both here.”
“The cleanup crew found a journal in the debris. It was relatively intact inside an oilskin in the back of a dresser.” Harrington cleared his throat. “The woman who lived in the cabin was insane long before she died. The bones you found belonged to Mary Elizabeth Potter. She was the owner of the home, and a spell caster.”
Marin said, “Any ideas as to why she set the ward?”
Jack made an annoyed sound. “Or why she hung around to haunt the place?”
Harrington let out a long breath. “We can tell from the journal that her husband left, and it wasn’t long after that she discovered she had syphilis. Certainly a possible cause of her insanity. The last few coherent entries demonstrate an obsession with her husband returning and with keeping him near.”
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “And from there it’s not a leap to assume she used her own death to power one last ward.”
Marin groaned. “You’re saying her dying act was a twisted attempt to keep her cheating husband with her forever? That’s sick.”
“We can’t know for sure, but yes,” Harrington said, “that’s what we’re thinking. The ward was gone when the crew arrived. But they secured the bones.”
“Which secures the ghost, right?” Jack asked.
“Yes.” Harrington didn’t sound nearly certain enough for Jack. But it wasn’t his problem any longer. “Any other good news for us?” Jack asked.
“Be glad IPPC isn’t seeking reimbursement for the cleanup crew.” Harrington ended the call.
Jack struggled to keep his eyes open. Even tales of crazy wives and their creepy eternal love couldn’t keep him awake.
Marin glanced at him. “We’re almost home. You passed out after we left the healer’s house.”
“Ah.”
She sighed. “I’m fine. Whatever Kai did must have offset the side effects of the endurance tea you drank, but that stuff still has me wide awake. Go back to sleep.”
He thought he agreed, but maybe he just fell back asleep.
~*~
Jack’s head rolled forward as the car came to a stop. He cracked his eyes open slowly and saw that they’d pulled up in front of The Junk Shop.
After she put the car in park, Marin sat quietly, unmoving. After several seconds, she said, “Well, that could have gone better.”
Jack gathered his gear and opened the car door. “Yeah.” He paused. “Coulda gone worse, though.” He stepped out into the street and let out a jaw-cracking yawn. “See you tomorrow at ten?”
Marin nodded.
Jack raised his eyebrows in pseudo-excitement. “Tomorrow’s the crash course on using the cash register.”
Marin laughed. “Awesome.”
She sounded like she meant it. Cool. He slammed the door and headed into the shop.
EPILOGUE
One week later
Jack crouched down and dumped the contents of the tin he held into a tiny porcelain dish.
“Oh my God. Are you feeding your rats?”
Jack jumped to his feet, surprised. Turning, he saw his sister Hannah. “No. I mean, I’m feeding my— How did you even get in the store? I didn’t hear the bells.” Jack cleared his throat.
Hannah peered at the can in his hand. “You’re feeding your cat?”
“Sure.”
“Jack. You cannot feed the rats. And seriously—crabmeat? Do you know what this dump will look like in a month, once you start feeding them? You’re completely insane.”
Jack scowled at his sister. “I’m not nuts. And whatever it is, it isn’t a rat. It’s house trained.”
Hannah waved a dismissive hand. “Like you’d know. You can’t see the rat poop for all the dust, funk, and rubbish piled up.”
“I sweep.” Jack tried not to sound offended, but really . . . “And I’m telling you: whatever Fuzzball is, he sheds and doesn’t leave any crap on the floors. That’s not a rat.”
“Ugh. You’re impossible, and this place is disgusting, but that’s not why I’m here.” Hannah straightened the cuff of her shirt. “You need to get a real job.”
“I have a real job.”
“Oh, I see that you have a new job. It’s not bad enough that you run a store filled with rubbish, but now this.” Hannah pointed to the shiny new sign that ran along the bottom of the di
splay window. Passersby could now see that The Junk Shop was also home to Spirelli Paranormal Investigations.
That’s right. He was legit. Completely out in the open, listed in the yellow pages, searchable online, with a sign on his store. And now the final step had been achieved: he’d been officially outed to his family. If his sister knew, then so did everyone else in his family. They’d be so proud.
“You’re basically advertising yourself as a fraud—or a fruitcake. And you’re doing it using the family name. What in the world are you thinking, Jack?” Hannah’s brow crinkled with worry.
Let the paranormal investigating begin.
THE END
Spirelli Paranormal Investigations
Episode 2
CHAPTER ONE
The Junk Shop’s front door swung open, the attached jingling bells announcing a new client. Jack ducked his head and stared at his computer screen, hoping his assistant Marin would field this one. Ever since he’d put the sign in the window advertising Spirelli Paranormal Investigations, he’d dealt with more crackpots, posers, and nosey neighbors than his limited patience could tolerate. And it had only been a week.
Marin poked her head into his office. “There’s a Mrs. Wallace here to see you.”
Jack glared.
“She’d like to discuss a potential fraud. Of the paranormal variety.” Marin smiled brightly.
She was enjoying his discomfort with the suddenly very public face his business had assumed. His own fault, but that didn’t make it any easier.
“Show her in. Please.” Jack stood up and mustered a halfway enthusiastic smile.
Marin disappeared briefly and reappeared with a petite brunette.
Jack’s prospective client extended her hand. “Dottie Wallace. Nice to meet you.”
“Jack Spirelli.” After releasing her hand, Jack pointed to the chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat, Mrs. Wallace.”
“Dottie, please. And thank you so much for seeing me without an appointment.” Jack made a dismissive gesture with his hand but didn’t manage a response before Dottie chattered on. “I saw your sign in the window. I was getting my hair done—just two doors down—and you know there’s only street parking here. So I was walking to my car and I saw your sign.” She practically bubbled over with excitement that the fates had smiled on her and put Jack’s sign in her path. “I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, paranormal investigation. So I came right inside and asked. And I can’t tell you how excited I was to find out that it’s exactly what I need.”
Jack held back an impatient sigh. His tiny shop had been a steal, such a steal that he’d bought it outright. And then the neighborhood had exploded. Trendy hair salons were just the beginning. Two art galleries, a boutique law firm, a coffee shop—and clients like Dottie Wallace. Generally good for The Junk Shop’s balance sheet, but not exactly what he’d expected or wanted when he opened the biz. Jack spied the rock on Dottie’s left hand. Really, though, the woman was nice enough.
“How exactly can SPI help you?”
“I was telling your assistant...” Dottie looked around.
“She’s keeping an eye on the shop.”
“So I was telling your assistant that my mother has recently started using the services of an untrustworthy person. I’d like you to prove that this person is...unreliable before she spends any more money.” Dottie’s face flushed a light pink. “He’s taking advantage of an elderly woman. It’s disgraceful. And my mother is especially vulnerable right now. My father passed just a few months ago.”
Jack pulled a legal pad out of the top right-hand drawer. “I assume we’re talking about suspected fraud? And do you have a name?”
“Conrad Blevins. And I can tell you, he is not a local man.” Dottie gave Jack a significant look.
Clearly she expected some response, so Jack nodded solemnly. “Of course not. What service is he claiming to provide?”
“He says he can speak to the dead and that he’s in contact with my father. He encourages my mother to speak to Dad through him. She brings him something of Dad’s, pays him, and she gets messages in return.” Dottie sat a little straighter. “It’s bull. Can you help me?”
Jack wanted to say yes. Not only did she look like she could afford their services, there was also the possibility her father actually was a ghost. That he’d found a way to communicate with Blevins. If Dottie’s father had possessed some magic in life, and on his death had actually become a ghost... The chances were slim, but it was possible.
“Where did you say your mother lives?”
Dottie frowned. “I’m not sure I did. A little town just the other side of the Louisiana border, DeRotan is the name. That’s not a problem, is it?”
“Louisiana?” Jack tried for a bland look. He’d had more than enough of Louisiana recently.
Dottie bobbed her head. “Yes, that’s right. Of course, I’ll pay all your travel expenses. I’m sure we can agree on a per diem rate that suits you.” She smiled faintly. “A local investigator simply isn’t an option, you understand. And there’s a lovely B&B I can recommend. I know the owner.”
Dottie might look like a bit of fluff, but Jack would bet cash this woman had a spine of steel.
“That’s great, Dottie. I’m sure we can work out the details.”
~*~
“We’re taking two cars, right?” Marin lounged in Jack’s office, her feet propped on the corner of his desk.
She’d clearly overheard some of his conversation with Dottie. At least the part about the job being in Louisiana.
Whatever her reasoning, two cars meant two gas bills, and that cut into Dottie’s generous but finite per diem. Straight-faced, he leaned back in his chair and said, “I don’t think that makes a lot of sense.”
“Hmm.” Marin considered the toes of her shoes. “If we’re driving separate cars, technically I’m meeting you at the job location. And if we’re meeting there...”
“I don’t have to pay for your hours in transit. And if I offer you transportation—”
“Which I’ll decline,” Marin quickly added.
“Then I don’t have to pay mileage on your car, although I’m sure you would like some gas money.” Jack squeezed his eyes shut. “Do I want to know why you want to take two cars so badly?”
Marin moved her head indecisively from side to side. ”Maybe not.” When he gave her a blank look, she sighed. “Okay. I‘m not keen on sharing a car for five hours on the way home...if you almost get me killed again.”
Before Jack could deny the possibility—what were the chances of a repeat of the Miersburg case?—Marin was saying, “And I might take a quick trip to New Orleans when we’re done.”
“For the record, I have no intention of getting us blown up, or even almost blown up.”
Their last Louisiana job had been unexpectedly hazardous. Technically, his actions had resulted in a near-miss explosion of a small town. But how was he to know moving a ward powered by death magic would cause a cataclysmic reaction? And yes, the car ride afterward might have been awkward—but it was all hazy. He’d been sleeping off the lingering effects of a head injury.
“Uh huh. Because you planned on it last time?” Marin shrugged. “It’s cool. Just trying to minimize coworker stress, maintain a good work environment,
Jack laughed. “You are so full of shit. But if I drive you that crazy and it keeps you from charring me on the drive home, two cars is fine. And I’ll chip in for gas.”
“And I get my own room at the B&B.”
Pushy, for someone whose job description included dusting recycled garbage and taking out the shop trash.
Jack paused a moment, as if considering her counteroffer. “Only if you drive once we’re in town.”
Dottie had booked two rooms at Jack’s request, but he hated letting go of leverage. And Marin had a sweet ride.
“Done.” Marin cocked her head. “You’re a complete pain in the ass. You know that, right?”
“And yet all the w
omen love me. You good to leave this afternoon?”
“Jack.” Marin shook her head. “All the twenty-year-old women love you. They think your ratty car and your chaotic life make you cool.”
The look on her face made her thoughts on the subject clear. Whatever.
CHAPTER TWO
Around seven that evening, Jack pulled into the B&B directly behind Marin’s Range Rover. He pulled into a parking space and sat in the driver’s seat, staring unseeing through the windshield.
Marin tapped on his window.
Jack opened his door. “Just taking a second to make sure all my parts are intact.”
“I didn’t top eighty-five—I set my cruise control.” Marin stepped back from his door. “You’d prefer to arrive in the middle of the night?”
Stepping out of the car, Jack said, “I’m not complaining, just recovering.” He slammed the door shut and stretched. Close to five hours in a car made his knees stiff these days. “All right. Let’s check in.”
When Marin and he walked in the front door to the small reception area, no one was in sight. Marin picked up a small bell on the counter and rang it.
After a few minutes passed, Jack started to consider the feasibility of walking up the staircase to the second floor and knocking on doors.
Marin was getting bolder with her explorations. She walked behind the reception desk, checked the small office there, and found no one. “You have a number for these guys? Otherwise, I’m picking an empty room and letting myself in.”
Jack was already reaching for his phone. “Just a second; I’ve got the confirmation email.”
An older man, wheezing with exertion, came in the front door. Sweat dripped down his nose, and he pulled a huge, old-fashioned handkerchief from his back pocket and dabbed at his face. “Hi. How can I help you folks?”
Not exactly what Jack expected, after hearing Dottie Wallace’s glowing recommendation.
“We have a reservation. Under the name Spirelli.” Jack debated pulling up the confirmation email, because Marin and he were clearly unexpected.
