It was kind of hard to argue with Marmaduke after that story, if only because he was obviously sad recalling the event. And he was an awfully smart guy. If he believed a faulty witch’s spell killed him, maybe he was right. I supposed I needed to consider that witches and witchcraft had to be as possible as ghosts who had a gift for gab.
“I’m sorry, Marmi,” I said. “Sorry that the bewitched car killed you.”
“Yes, well, it’s all spilled milk now, as they say. I like to joke and say that Great Aunt Nettie Jane’s security spell backfired on me.” He chuckled at his own wit. “So, does this woman believe the good doctor’s scary shadow is a witch?”
“No. She thinks witchcraft is responsible for calling her spirit back. You know—Moonflower died and moved on to wherever we go, then someone brought her back as a ghost.”
“For what purpose?”
That’s exactly what I wondered. If Jina was, in fact, Moonflower, who would want to raise her spirit and why? Was it her father? Maybe he missed her so much he resorted to magical means to see her again. Or maybe he regretted selling his office and was trying to scare Dr. Callahan away. Regardless, it seemed very likely that Jina Bhandari was the ghost calling herself Moonflower, and while I wasn’t gutsy enough to call up her father and start asking questions, I did have access to someone who knew how she’d died.
“World to Sophie. Sophie, are you there?” Marmaduke’s voice shook me from my trance.
“Sorry, Marm,” I said, moving around the counter and grabbing my water glass for another drink. “I was thinking.”
“You can disappear into your thoughts, can’t you?”
Other thoughts were forming quickly in my mind, and I knew Marmi wouldn’t approve, but I didn’t care. I’d made a decision. I gulped the last of the water and set the glass down. “I’m going out.”
CHAPTER TEN
BARNEY’S CORNER PUB WAS NOT the most popular drinking hole in Stephens City, but it had been my favorite for a very long time. True to its name, it sat on the corner of Main Street and Washington Way. The dark, but welcoming bar held both good memories and bad. Good, because that’s where I met Marmaduke. Bad, because that’s where I broke up with Shane. And I hadn’t been back since, because it was also his favorite hangout.
My choice to drop in for a beer and cheesy fries wasn’t driven by thirst, although a cold beer did sound especially tantalizing. And it certainly wasn’t driven by any sudden affluence. I shouldn’t be spending the money, but the fact of the matter was, I had at least a ninety-percent chance of running into Shane since cops and firefighters drank for half-price on Thursdays, and he had a habit of partaking in the benefit weekly.
I had no romantic motivation for meeting up with Shane, but he was the responding policeman the day Jina Bhandari died, so it was very likely, with the right amount of eyelash batting, that I could wheedle a decent amount of information out of him on the subject. True, I could have just called him, but I didn’t want to give him any ideas or stroke his enormous ego. No, this way I could feign a craving for cheesy fries and a forgetfulness that it was Thursday night. He wasn’t quite bright enough to see through my ruse, I was pretty sure.
Marmaduke, however, clued in the minute I pulled on the heavy oak door. He had vanished when I announced that I would be going out, and reappeared just as I was walking into the warm, loud bar. “I suppose that you are unlikely to heed any advice I might offer, but I shall make my voice heard regardless—this is a mistake of grand proportions.”
“That sounds like a statement, not advice, Marmi. Besides, I’m just getting a beer and some fries,” I whispered under my breath while sitting my rump on a barstool right in front of the establishment’s namesake. “Hiya, Barney! Long time, no see.”
Barney was the biggest, sweetest teddy bear of a man that ever existed. He literally looked like a teddy bear. Big tummy, chubby cheeks, furry face, relentless smile. He was super huggable. “Sophie!” The smile grew extra-wide as he towel-dried a hefty mug. “I knew you’d come back one day. The place hasn’t been the same without you.” He held up the dry mug. “The usual?”
Marmaduke grumbled in my ear. “You haven’t been here since you bid farewell to that rounder, Shane.”
My plan required the appearance of sanity, so answering Marmi’s complaints was out of the question. He’d have to be ignored. “Um...” I squirmed on my stool. “Things are a little tight for me right now, Barney, what do you have on draft that’s a little less expensive than my usual?” I coughed. “Actually, what’s the cheapest thing you have?”
He gave me an understanding nod, positioned the mug under a spigot and pulled, allowing the amber ale to flow. “That’s Pabst. And don’t worry. This first one is on me. Cheesy fries?”
“Yes, please.” I couldn’t hide my excitement. Barney served the best cheesy fries in North America. Possibly the world. “Just a half-order though.” I wagged a finger at him. “And no charity. I’ll pay. I may be poor, but I’m not destitute.” I sipped off a bit of the head from the mug he’d set in front of me. “I’m finally employed again. Get my first paycheck tomorrow.”
“Congratulations!” Barney’s eyes twinkled. When his hair turned gray, he’d definitely look like Santa Claus. “I’ll get that order in.” He disappeared into the kitchen.
I swept an inconspicuous glance around the bar. No Shane.
Marmaduke jumped on the moment. “See. He isn’t here. Let us withdraw while you have a chance to escape disaster.”
I lifted the mug to my lips readying for a sip, but whispered discreetly first. “I’m waiting for my cheesy fries.”
He huffed. “This has nothing to do with food or drink.”
I shrugged and turned my stool to peruse the bar’s patrons more thoroughly. I spotted Jenn Evans cuddling up to Alex Turner, but those were the only familiar faces. Apparently, some things never changed. Jenn was a dispatcher at Stephens City PD and Alex was an officer just barely out of the academy. Jenn had been crushing on him from the first day he went on duty, but he seemed only to enjoy the attention. Jenn noticed me watching them and winked. I raised my glass, then turned around just in time to be greeted by my steamy half-order of cheesy fries. I rubbed my hands together before digging in. “Barney, you don’t know how I’ve missed these!”
Marmaduke paced behind me, his hands clutched together behind his back. “Fish and chips from McDougals. Now there’s a dish worthy of such accolade. Extolment. Applause. Those ‘fries,’ as you call them, appear to have been drowned in a yellow ooze not fit for consumption. But please, do inhale them so we may vacate this saloon post haste and abandon your barmy scheme.”
Barmy. That was a new one. Probably meant crazy or crackpot based on the context, but truthfully, I didn’t care. Yes, I had come in hopes of bumping into Shane, but the delectable and very fattening junk food had taken center stage, and Marmaduke’s fears be damned, I was going to enjoy every heart-clogging bite.
The problem with cheesy fries, however, is the very thing that makes them so holy: the cheese. It has this slimy tendency to drip from the fry as it’s entering the mouth, landing on the lower lip and sliding down the chin. The bigger the drip, the drippier a person looks when someone walks into the bar where those fries are being devoured. In my case, the gloppy drip of cheese was colossal, and I failed to wipe it away before the big oak door opened and Shane entered. I froze. How does one appear graceful when one’s face is smeared with gelatinous goop?
Marmaduke was beside himself with anxiety over my ex’s arrival. He paced and chattered endlessly. Luckily, I was the only one who could hear his raving.
It took Shane all of one-millionth of a second to spot me. A grin tugged slowly at the corners of his perfect lips and he sauntered my way. “Hey, Soph.” He leaned on the bar.
Were I to respond instantly, potato and cheese would have spewed all over the clean t-shirt that clung so finely to his well-chiseled chest beneath. That would have served him right for the way he’d treate
d me in the past, but I didn’t need the embarrassment, so I chewed, swallowed, wiped my chin, chased it all with a swig of beer, then returned the greeting. “Hey, Shane.” I performed an exaggerated peek behind him. “All alone tonight? No Amy Amy Bo Bamey?”
He rolled his eyes but sat next to me despite the jab. “She’s working.”
I nodded, feeling the tiniest bit guilty for hating Amy as much as I did. She was a nurse, after all. Worked the ER. She saved lives for crying out loud. She was actually a nice person and we’d been pretty good friends before Shane dumped me for her. If I wanted to be entirely honest with myself, Shane was a rebound hook-up, and probably destined for failure anyway. The breakup before Shane was far more devastating—the man far more painful to forget. That had been, in my mind, a true love, with only one obstacle—the man’s wife. Yeah, I thought, I really should grow up and forgive Shane and Amy.
Shane raised his hand to signal Barney. “Give me a Dos Equis, would ya man?”
“In a sec, Shane.”
“And two shots of Beam,” Shane added, knocking my elbow with his. “Like the old days.”
I shook my head and held up a fending hand. “No, no. Not for me. Can’t hold my whiskey anymore, and I certainly can’t afford it.”
“It’s on me. Come on.”
“Oh, Lord...” I heard Marmi moan.
“I don’t know...”
“Just one. Then I promise I won’t bug you anymore.”
Well, I did need to stick around. I’d come with a purpose and that purpose was to talk to Shane. Agreeing to join Shane in a drink would set the friendly tone I needed for opening up the Jina Bhandari discussion. What could one shot hurt? Nothing, I justified. The problem with justifications: they always bite me in the butt. “Okay,” I agreed. “Just one.”
“It begins,” moaned Marmi some more.
Barney set the shot glasses down and filled them to the brim. He shot me a wink. “Two of my favorite people drinking together again.”
I lifted the shot ready to pound it. “Don’t get used to it, Barney. It’s just for old times’ sake.” Having made my position clear, I threw back the glass and let the warm, biting liquid slide down my throat. My eyes watered as I snapped the glass back to the counter with a clack! Nice. Immediately, my body relaxed. I chased the Jim Beam with the rest of my cheap beer and turned to give Shane a once over. The whiskey must have affected my vision, because suddenly he looked ten times more appealing than when he walked in. The bulging muscles of his biceps bulged more, his dark, wavy hair waved more, and his intensely dark eyes...I leaned closer to him, resting a hand on the back of his barstool. “You are one hunk of handsome, aren’t you?”
Marmaduke had apparently had enough. “That’s it!” he shouted. And disappeared.
I marched forward, my justifications fueling my ridiculous behavior. Had to butter Shane up. Learn more about Jina Bhandari.
Shane, following my lead, leaned in as well, a devilish grin erupting across his sexy-stubbled face. “I like you in short hair. Very Halle Berry.”
Now, the thing is, Shane was practically Greek-god-gorgeous head to toe, yet, I suddenly realized that was something was missing. The urge to wrap myself around his rock-hard abs and practically melt into him. Desire. Lust. Nervous butterflies. They were all gone. I had finally reached the point where I could take him or leave him. I pulled back and teased, “Well, you have a girlfriend, sir, so this...” I fanned my hand across my body like Vanna White presenting a new board of letters. “This is off limits. No touchy, touchy.”
“Understood,” he agreed, settling back onto his stool. He was still awfully cocky-confident for himself. “How about we celebrate the forging of a new friendship with another shot of whiskey?”
I gave it a moment’s thought. “Sure,” I said. “But one condition.”
“What would that be?”
“Tell me a little about Jina Bhandari.”
Shane waved his hand in the air. “Two more shots, Barn!” He turned his attention back to me. “I swear, I didn’t sleep with anyone named Jina.”
“No, you dope. Jina Bhandari. The girl who died in Dr. Callahan’s office last year. Before it was his office. You were the responding officer.”
It took him a second, but recognition eventually lit on his face. “The college girl,” he said with a nod. “Why do you want to know about her?”
Hmm. That was a good question. I should have anticipated it and planned how to answer that one in advance. Too late for shoulda-woulda-couldas. I shrugged. “When you hear that someone died in the same place where you work, you get a little curious.” My response wasn’t the smartest lie in the world, but it passed muster for Shane’s limited wit, evidently.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, throwing back the second shot.
“How did she die?”
He flicked a glance at my full shot glass. “Drink up and I answer.”
Just like Shane. I obeyed, and my eyes watered again. My body started to weaken all over like just-cooked spaghetti.
Shane laughed. “One thing you have over Amy—you know how to drink some whiskey.”
I glowered inside at his backhanded compliment, which implied that Amy had an awful lot over me. I scowled inwardly, but smiled outwardly to keep the momentum going. “Gee, thanks. Back to the college girl.”
“She was pregnant.”
“She died giving birth in the office?”
“No. You’re really cute when you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“That’s debatable. I arrived after the EMTs who had tried, unsuccessfully, to revive her. The father claimed that they had been having an argument and she just collapsed in front of him. Given his claim and the claims of witnesses who overheard the argument, foul play was considered, but the coroner’s report showed she died of some sort of...hemorrhage.” He shook his head, seeming to rethink what he’d said. “No, hemorrhage wasn’t the word.” His index finger tapped the bar while his brain churned. “What’s that called when there’s a clot—a blood clot?”
“Aneurism?”
He snapped his fingers. “That’s it. She died of a rare pregnancy-related aneurism.”
“Was the father horribly upset?”
“One more whiskey and I’ll answer that for you.”
“Jeez, you’re a cad.”
He laughed. “A cad? Sounds like you’ve been talking to that ghost from Ireland again.”
England you dip wad. I raised my hand and hollered, “Two more shots, Barney ol’ pal!”
Barney was filling two beer orders for a couple at the end of the bar. He raised an eyebrow at me. “You sure, Soph?”
“Sure, I’m sure,” I slurred. One more. I could handle it. The room started to spin a little. I was Sophie, the whiskey drinking, short-haired, ex-girlfriend, after all. “Put it right here!” I slapped the counter top in front of me. I should have realized I was already heavily anesthetized when no pain registered from the impact, the resulting sound of which caused half the bar to turn my way. But then again, that’s the problem with whiskey. Two shots in, you think you can drink the whole bottle and still calculate complex algebraic equations in your head. I slammed that third sucker down, then stood and moved in close to Shane’s face. “Tell me: did the father sheem horribbily upshet?”
“Why do you care?”
The floor started to sway underneath my feet. Maybe three shots was too much...
“Why don’t you care?” I retorted. Even in my drunken state (Shane was right about that), I detected that the question was strange and non-sequitur. It got me what I was looking for though.
“I did care, actually,” he said. “Because he didn’t seem that upset. His reaction was odd. That’s why I was suspicious. But like I said, it all checked out, so who knows why people react the way they do, right? Whoa. Sophie—you’d better sit back down.”
Shane’s face had gone blurry and my stomach was starting to churn. I made an attempt at aimin
g my buttocks for the stool, but missed, and fell on the floor. “Uh-oh!” I laughed. “That stool moved!” I laughed some more and raised an arm which Shane grabbed to hoist me back up.
“I think I’d better drive you home,” he said.
“That’s okay,” a voice said from out of nowhere. Actually, it wasn’t out of nowhere, but with the room spinning, it felt like that to me. While I had fallen to the floor, Dr. Callahan had entered the bar. He stood between Shane and me, then slipped a firm arm around my waist. “Cal!” I bellowed, grinning from ear to ear. “How are you?”
He smiled. “I’m fine. You doing okay?”
“Been soberererer...”
He turned to Shane. “From what she tells me, you’re not the greatest influence on her. I’ll drive her home. She’s the only receptionist I have.”
“You smell good,” I said. “Did I ever tell you how good you smell?”
Shane raised his hands defensively. “Hey, man. She’s a grown woman. I didn’t force her to do those shots.”
Cal raised his eyebrows to express skepticism, but didn’t respond. He caught Barney’s attention. “How much is her bill?”
“Hey,” Shane interrupted. “I’ve got it. You okay going home with this guy, Soph?”
I nodded. “He’s Cal. Doctor Cal Callahan. He’s my bosh. He’s a cool bosh. And cute too, don’tchoo think?” My foot gave way under me, but Cal held me tight.
“Let’s go,” he said.
When we were near the door, I tried like heck to focus clearly on his magnificent face and to speak without slurring any words. “I said Shane was a bad influence? I don’t remember that.” I think I managed not to slur, but focusing was harder.
“No,” he smiled. “Marmaduke told me. How do you think I knew where you were?”
Good ol’ Marmi. He was such a good ghost-friend. The best a girl could have.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING, my tongue practically super-glued to the top of my mouth, and Marmaduke staring me in the face. “Get up. He’s going to be here soon.”
Keep Me Ghosted (Sophie Rhodes Romantic Comedy #1) Page 9
