Given Enough Rope (Haunted Series Book 20)

by Alexie Aaron

  “Notice there is no one on the site, and now watch the inner walls.”

  PEEPs watched, as one by one, the supports were pulled away, and the weight of the drying cement caused the inner walls to buckle and break.

  “There is a distortion before each act of vandalism,” Ted pointed out. “What do you see, Mia, Murphy?”

  Dash looked around for the addressed Murphy. Mia kept looking to her side and seemed to be listening to someone. Ralph had warned Dash that PEEPs had a ghost on the team, but he didn’t actually believe him. The Ralph he knew, exaggerated when it would add to the tale being told.

  “We see three entities,” Mia said. “Murph, show yourself.”

  Dash watched as the air next to Mia thickened, and finally, a man stood next to the investigator.

  “The axe is a bit off-putting,” Dash said nervously.

  “I’d say it was the farmer, but you and I have differing opinions,” Mike said.

  Murphy grinned and lowered his axe to the floor.

  “The axe comes with the ghost,” Mia explained. “We would rather you didn’t mention him to anyone. He’s kind of a company secret.”

  “Your secret is safe with me. Tell me, how can a ghost who seems to be made of smoke or mist be able to move objects?”

  “Energy,” Murphy said. “And practice.”

  “That makes sense,” Dash said.

  “What do you want from PEEPs?” Mike asked.

  “I’d like to finish the annex and make sure my patrons and employees are safe. I can handle the cost of a few broken bottles and glasses, but not hiring a new construction company. My contractor assures me he’ll come back once the troublesome spirits are gone.”

  “So, you want us to clean house,” Cid said.

  “Gently,” Dash requested. “I really don’t want to upset the dead.”

  Murph took off his hat and scratched his head.

  “We’ll do our best,” Mike said and presented him with the filming contract.

  Mia walked outside with the assistance of the cane Ted had painstakingly engineered for her. She needed fresh air and a bit of exercise. Today’s goal was to walk down the drive until she reached the picnic table. There she would rest before walking back up to the house. “This living without painkillers is hell,” she said to the life within her. “But I don’t want you harmed in any way.” She stopped and looked around her. The trees filtered the sunlight, and the otherwise hot day was pleasant. Mia took in the spicy smell of the wood and sensed she was not alone.

  “Okay, you can stop hovering, Murph. I made it.”

  Murphy appeared beside her.

  “Any thoughts on the investigation?” she asked him, as he assisted her so she could sit on top of the picnic table. This was their favorite viewing spot of the hillside.

  “How can we get rid of the ghosts without upsetting them?” he asked.

  “Kindly ask them to leave. “Excuse me, sir, would you take your chains somewhere else please,” Mia said.

  “Most certainly, sorry to disturb you,” Murphy played along.

  “It’s not that you’re a disruption, mind you, but your screaming is making my soufflés fall.”

  “I’m so sorry. Bear with me while I find my head,” Murphy stumbled around.

  Mia giggled like a school girl. “Thanks, I needed that.”

  “I like your new hairstyle.”

  “Thank you. I wasn’t sure it was me, but Dash seemed so positive.”

  “I like the little skeleton hands.”

  “What hands?” Mia asked, her eyes getting large.

  It took Murphy a moment to see she was joking. He smacked his leg and laughed.

  Ralph slowed his car as he drove by with Dash. Mia waved and called, “See you soon!”

  “We had fancy men like that when I was a boy,” Murphy confided.

  “Really?”

  “They called them thespians. There was a dance hall where they would put on plays and sing songs.”

  “By they you mean?”

  “Costumed people.”

  Mia started laughing. “I thought you meant gay. I was trying to figure out how your mother let you near gentlemen who liked being with other gentlemen.”

  “She was rather strict. She hated it when my father would join with the other workers for a drink at the bar down the street. He used to drink most of his paycheck. She would send me with him to collect his pay. I was instructed to snatch the money and hightail it home when the opportunity presented itself.”

  “That’s a lot of responsibility for a boy,” Mia said.

  “I was smart. I would wait with him at the bar when he paid for his first drink, and then while he was waiting for the barman to deliver the whiskey, I would reach into his pocket and grab the rest of the money. I only got caught a few times.”

  “What happened when you got caught?” Mia asked, concerned that the answer was going to be one that she wouldn’t like hearing.

  “He figured my mother put me up to it. His retaliation was to get drunk. He was a generous man and bought drinks for his friends. He never hit me, Mia. He wasn’t that kind of man. Mother would be mad, because once again, we couldn’t pay the man who collected the rent. The Murphys would all hide on collection day.”

  “How did you eat?”

  “My mother always managed. I suspect she would go to Father McKinney, and he would give her funds from the poor box. She always gave the money back. She was prideful. After my father left, she moved us out of the city.”

  “You weren’t Catholic, were you,” Mia accused.

  “My mother was whatever it took when it came to survival. But I suspected the good father knew this. He was a kind man,” Murphy said before he disappeared.

  A whirl of an electric engine and the crunch of tires over stones and dry branches preceded the arrival of the golf cart. Dieter was driving Brian back from the guesthouse where they had been spending time. Mia appreciated Dieter taking the initiative. Susan normally would be in charge of Brian during a PEEPs meeting, but it was preseason Bears football time and her schedule was full.

  “Mom!” Brian said as Dieter pulled the cart up beside the picnic table. “I want to go to the Mississippi and build a raft and…”

  “Oh, Brian, you’ve been Twained,” Mia said. “We’re going to cross the mighty Mississippi on our way to take you to the Martins. Why don’t you make up your mind after you see how vast and quick flowing the river is?”

  “Yes, Mom, I believe I will,” Brian said stubbornly.

  “What is this Twained?” Dieter asked.

  “Mark Twain is the pen name of the American writer Samuel Clemens. He was a very smart man with a quick wit. He wrote The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, which, to my surprise, Brian is reading now. How did you get ahold of the books?”

  “Susan left them last time she was here. She was reading them to me,” Brian confessed. “I didn’t want to wait for her to come back, so I worked out the words.”

  “You are an amazing child. Do me a favor. Savor your childhood if you can. Don’t be so quick to grow up.”

  “I’d rather be as tall as Dieter right now.”

  “In my village, we had to learn to crawl before we learned to walk. And walk before we ran. Brian, because of this, many of us became fast runners. You need to give your body time to develop,” Dieter advised.

  “What if I turn out small like Mom?”

  “There is no one mightier than our mother,” Dieter said proudly.

  Mia nodded a thank you to Dieter, not trusting her voice.

  “Are we having pizza tonight?” Brian asked.

  “We usually do after a PEEPs meeting.”

  Brian clapped his hands. “I want to go with Cid to pick it up!”

  Mia shook her head; she couldn’t do that to Cid. “I was hoping that you would help me set the table. I’m not supposed to do too much.”

  “What about Dieter?” Brian asked.

  “
Dieter is going to spend the night at Mark’s. Cid will drop you off on the way to get the pizzas,” Mia informed Dieter.

  “Dang nab it,” Brian cussed.

  “Excuse me?” Mia asked, not believing her ears.

  “Yes, Mom,” Brian said.

  “Would you like a ride back?” Dieter asked Mia quickly to hide his amusement.

  “No, I’m keeping to my exercise schedule. I’ll be heading back in five minutes.”

  Dieter backed out. Mia watched Brian’s pout leave him as the two rolled over some bumps before connecting with the driveway.

  Mia watched the deer on the hillside for a few minutes before she eased herself off the table. She knew Murph was stalking her and appreciated his worry over her making her way back up to the house. “I think it’s time to hang up my sword,” she thought.

  The evening breeze slowed to a stop. Butterflies hung in midair. Her next step was in sand, and as she fell forward, she was caught by Roumain, who swept her up into his strong arms and carried her to a large piece of driftwood and set her down gently. The wood, upon further inspection, was what was left of the bowsprit of a ship that may be lying in a watery grave off the reef. Mia ran her hand along the curve waiting for Roumain to speak.

  “My dear hooligan, what have you done to yourself now?”

  “Save it. I’ve been chastised from angels to demons. The point has been made: don’t cut off your leg with a birdman’s knife.”

  “Mia, Varden’s knife,” Roumain clarified.

  “Why would it be any different?”

  “Because Varden’s soul was returned and…”

  Mia put her hand on her baby bump. “No, really?”

  “It seemed to make sense at the time,” Roumain said. “But I would like to congratulate you on your quick thinking anyway.”

  “At last. I thought I’d go down in history as the woman who tried to cut off her leg on a whim.”

  Roumain laughed loud and full.

  Mia looked at the elegant, black king of purgatory and enjoyed the energy that radiated off of him. She no longer saw him as a threat, just someone to be wary of.

  “So you broke down and crawled back to Michael.”

  Mia’s hand shot to her throat.

  “Oh don’t worry. He’s learned his lesson on marking his pets.”

  “I am not his pet. By the way, it was him who sent the power to resurrect the chief’s daughter’s body for Refugia.”

  “Good to know. So what’s this about you hanging up your sword?”

  “I thought it but moments ago.”

  “Ah, but you did think about it before,” Roumain pointed out, sitting down next to her.

  “I think I’ve got a bit of the birdman blues.”

  “Explain,” Roumain urged.

  “I put my life and my friends’ lives in danger, for what? No one knows of the sacrifice. And then there’s the pain and torment of never being sure what the outcome of an endeavor will be.”

  “But who would do this if not you?” Roumain asked.

  “Well, I don’t have to go out of my way to find trouble.”

  “You don’t. It may seem that way to the casual observer, that your life is a series of jumping the shark moments, but it only goes to show that they are only reading the surface. They don’t see the hooligan I know. The one who will not let another be hurt if she can help it. Look at how many chances you gave Aosoth to leave. Stubborn bitch. She should have hightailed it the moment Ted and Cid’s light show underlined your achievements.”

  “It was kind of boastful. But I wanted her to leave. There I was, stuck in a cement cage with very vulnerable humans inside. I suppose I’m going to have to face the demon court?”

  “No, you acted with honor. They presently are criticizing Lucifer for giving the demon so much rope.”

  “I hope he doesn’t take offense,” Mia said, rubbing her arms.

  “You aren’t fond of the creature are you,” Roumain observed. “I thought since Michael had been so cruel, you may ponder changing sides?”

  “Never!”

  Roumain smiled and trailed his hand along her bad leg.

  Mia pushed his hand away. “Please, don’t.”

  “How bad does it hurt?”

  “Like a thousand burning stars are boiling under the skin,” Mia said.

  “Come then. I’ll take you to a portal that will take you back, past the time the knife was forged.”

  “No!”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “I’m pregnant and carrying Varden’s soul. I can’t risk the child. I’ll learn to live with the pain.”

  “Mia, I’m most impressed.”

  Mia looked over at him. “You were testing me, again.”

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “No, you’re very good at what you do. No wonder no one has challenged you for the kingdom of purgatory. That will change when I get there,” Mia warned him.

  Roumain turned his head, shocked.

  Mia raised an eyebrow.

  “Bad Mia,” he said before his laughter bubbled to the surface. “Let me take you back. Your new man, Lazar will be bringing you help. This is your reward for being my dear hooligan.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mason Callen pulled his brother’s truck into Ira Levisohn’s driveway. Mason had spent many hours in the Levisohns’ household a few years back. Inky (Ira) had prepared Mason for his SATs, and in turn, Mason helped Inky with his social skills. He had told the teen, “There’s a time for standing up and burning your academic peers in the classroom, and then there’s a time for sitting back and allowing them to shine.” He admitted his own failings, “Me, I hid my intelligence so deep that I forgot I wasn’t an eejit. But I did have good and loyal friends. Losers sure, but they came through when I needed them.”

  Mason, through Inky’s tutelage, managed to secure himself a place, first, in a junior college and then in a tech school. Inky had regained his mobility and grew into a strong teenager adored by his classmates. Inky, on the advice of the Martins, spent a year in high school before moving on to the local university. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with his life, but he knew that he would need to always be challenged. He set his sights for Cambridge. His mother had family in England, and this autumn, he would be attending on a partial scholarship from one of the math colleges within the large university. Inky hoped to break the code as to how he was able to bilocate so that ordinary people would be able to do the same.

  The young man who strode confidently to the truck barely resembled the wheelchaired, fragile youth Mason had worked with. Inky was tall with a body more suited to sport than books. His dark hair and eyes sparkled with health. Inky opened up the door and extended a hand over to Mason before storing his gear behind the seat and getting in.

  “Good to see you, old man,” Inky emoted in his worst British accent.

  “Practicing for the toffs?” Mason asked.

  “Nah, purely for my own amusement. Where did you get this heap?”

  “Patrick loaned it to me on the condition I drive the speed limit. It may or may not be stolen. He found it half buried in an old junkyard, fixed it up, and it runs like a dream.”

  Inky studied Mason as he drove. He bore an uncanny resemblance to Stephen Murphy. They had the same chiseled chin and dancing mischievous eyes. Mason’s brother Patrick’s smile was slyer, but he too could have been mistaken for Stephen Murphy if one looked at him quickly.

  “So your ma allowed you to come and go ghost hunting. I’m surprised,” Mason commented, pulling the truck out onto the highway.

  “Last time I spent time with a friend of Mia’s, I came back with working legs. Miracles happen around Mia. I think my mother hopes I’ll learn to clean my room this time.”

  “Not if you’re rooming with me, you won’t,” Mason said. “Patrick says that he’s going to sell my dressers and rent out my closet since I never use them.”

  “How’s the job hunt going?” Inky asked.

/>   “Ah, there’s nothing down here for me. I’m going to have to spread my search further afield. This stipend, or whatever Ted’s calling it, will help keep the student-loan-collecting wolves from my door.”

  “Mine goes towards my room and board. Cambridge is expensive.”

  The conversation turned to gossip on their mutual acquaintances as Mason drove towards Big Bear Lake.

  Ted and Mia arrived back from meeting Ted’s folks halfway for the Brian exchange. They had exchanged Brian for the undying love and appreciation of his grandparents.

  “Let’s hope they are still thrilled with Brian after a week,” Mia said.

  “There are plenty of Martins to step in if they become Brian-shocked,” Ted assured her. “Brian was smiling ear to ear. I think he’s tired of torturing us, so he’s moving on to more lucrative pastures.”

  “Did you warn them about his latest Twain fixation?”

  “Yes, and my father bought a bucket of whitewash and is going to fix the Twain with a little lesson from the man himself - also known as being Sawyered.”

  Cid had the truck packed and handed over a list of the contents for Ted to peruse. Mia headed into the house to finish packing for the week in Chicago. She spent an hour going through her maternity clothes and came up with a few outfits Ralph would not be ashamed to see her in. The problem was, her belly was very large for the months of the baby’s gestation. If Roumain was right and she was giving birth to a birdman the size of Varden, she would need help delivering it. “Thank god for Caesar,” she said aloud.

  “I do believe that is a first,” Lazar said, walking in the room with a pile of clean towels. “I have heard a lot of references to the Cleopatra-besotted old man, but thanking God?”

  “They named Cesarean section after him because of his birth.”

  “Are you expecting to give birth that way?” Lazar asked, worried where the conversation was going.

  “This child inside me is going to be so big, it will turn me inside out like a pair of socks if it comes out naturally.” Mia grabbed a pair of socks and demonstrated.