Ghost Gone Wild (A Bailey Ruth Ghost Novel) (10 page)

• • •

Rod Holt’s Back Shop was at the tail end of Main Street, a shabby one-story frame building sandwiched between an abandoned storefront and a pawnshop. Plate-glass windows on either side of a rough-hewn wooden door featured assorted memorabilia, spittoons, two worn saddles, stained leather chaps, a stack of lariats, enamel basins, several Winchester rifles, a calico bonnet, empty feed sacks, boots, gun rigs, barbed wire, and branding irons.

A bell clanged loudly as I opened the door. There scarcely appeared to be a free inch of space, only a narrow aisle between walls laden with curiosities ranging from Indian headdresses to old rifles to galvanized iron tubs. I skirted a late-eighteenth-century claw-footed porcelain bathtub to reach a counter that held even more clutter, plus jars of hard candy and beef jerky. Square in the center of the counter was an intricately patterned Indian basket filled with rolled up sheets of thick paper. A hand-lettered sign proclaimed:
Treasure Maps. $25 each. Going Fast.

“Hidey.” The drawl was pure Adelaide. “Welcome to the Back Shop. Make yourself to home.”

The lighting from wall-mounted gaslights was fairly dim. It took me a moment to distinguish the lean figure lounging on a wooden chair tilted back against the wall. A nearby horsehair sofa was burdened with two sets of molted antlers, a toy rocking horse, and a late-Victorian wooden toilet seat.

“Mr. Holt?”

The chair clipped to the floor and he stood. In the flicker of gaslights, he was the image of Doc Holliday, thin with smoothly cut, jet-black hair and a sharp-pointed mustache. His long-sleeve, faintly yellowed white shirt, string tie, baggy black trousers, and black boots would have attracted no notice in any saloon in the Old West in the 1880s. Dark eyes studied me as he hooked his thumbs in his pockets and nodded. “Don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”

“I’m Hilda Whitby. I’m representing Nick Magruder.”

A thick dark eyebrow arched. “I heard about Nick setting up to buy the Arnold place. Are you his lawyer?” His long face looked more animated. “That old Arnold place could be redone like the nineteen twenties if he replaced the recent stuff.” He pointed at the claw-footed bathtub. “That would go in an upstairs bath real pretty.”

“I’m not sure about Nick’s plans for the house. I’m here about a different matter. Jan Richey told me you called Nick to warn him about Cole Clanton. She wants to know what Cole is threatening to do.”

He squinted at me, the enthusiasm draining from his face. “It seems to me like maybe Nick might be the right person to tell Jan.” He pulled at his mustache. “If she has to know.” The last was a mumble.

“Nick stormed out of the B and B to hunt for Cole. We can’t find Nick and Jan’s worried. Nick is terribly angry.”

“Right.” Rod’s gaze skittered away. He looked toward a set of antlers, and his face twisted in uncertainty.

“Mr. Holt—”

“Rod. Everybody calls me Rod.”

“If you tried to talk Cole out of a plan, then you know what he intends to do.”

“Oh, hell.” He sounded aggrieved. “I had a covered wagon about sold to Cole, an honest-to-God wagon I can trace to the Land Run.” The Unassigned Lands in Oklahoma were opened to settlers at noon on April 22, 1889, and fifty thousand hopeful settlers poured into the area from north, south, east, and west, by buggy, wagon, train, and on horseback. “This wagon left from Purcell. We were dickering when his cell rang.” He turned away, reached up to straighten a pair of spurs hanging from a board.

I moved until I could see a portion of his averted face.

He peered at the spurs as if he’d never seen a pair before.

“I can tell you are uncomfortable.” I spoke soothingly. “If you know what Cole plans to do, I hope you will tell me. Maybe I can do something to prevent a problem.”

He tugged again at his mustache. “I don’t want to be caught in the middle of anything. But I guess I got to say what I know.” He reached over, moved a set of antlers. “You might as well sit down.”

He waited until I perched on the hard-as-a-rock sofa before he settled in the chair. He didn’t look at me, fastening his gaze on an Indian basket. “No way you can’t hear when people talk on a cell. Of course, I only heard Cole’s side, but I knew who he was talking to. Cole kept calling him Phidippus. Everybody knows that story. Long and short of it, women are damned fools sometimes. That’s why I couldn’t tell Jan. I hope she doesn’t ever have to know. I told Cole he was playing with fire. If he puts those pix on Facebook, who knows what Arlene might do?”

Pictures on Facebook. I didn’t have to ask the content of the pictures. Women were damned fools sometimes and Arlene had been proud of having a young lover. “Cole took pictures on his iPhone?” How easy to click and post the photos on his Facebook page. How easy and how devastating.

“Cole got ugly, said it would serve Arlene right if everybody in town saw the photos. But he said they were worth more off the Net than on it. Nick is a sap for Jan, and he’d do what he could to protect Jan’s ma. In exchange for no pix, Nick was going to have to sign a paper saying he’d sell the Arnold house to Cole for a dollar and maybe, if Nick was lucky, Cole would pay him a couple of bucks. Cole held up the phone and laughed like a hyena, and said, ‘I’ll give Nick a call every so often, describe another one of the pix. I’d send them to him one by one, but Phidippus might be shocked. By tonight he’ll be begging me to let him hand over the place.’”

• • •

On the back porch of the B and B, I hesitated. What, if anything, could I share with Jan? I gripped the doorknob. I didn’t want to tell her about the cell phone photos of her mother, but I needed help. She was sure to know the number of Nick’s cell phone. I had to talk to him. Would he agree to meet me? I had a plan. Of course, everything depended upon finding Cole Clanton and the return of Nick’s aunt Dee.

The grip on my arm was just this side of vicious. “I’ve buzzed between this place and downtown so many times I’m dizzy. You’ve got to help me with Nick.”

“You’re back!” I tried to pull away, but a woman who could control eleven hundred pounds of horseflesh wasn’t going to set me free. “Where’ve you been?”

“Trying to stop Nick from his lunacy.” Her deep voice was strained and discouraged.

I yanked free, then with a swipe through the air found her arm and held on tight. Turnabout. “Where is he?”

“Running around town like a madman. He goes from place to place—the library, the basketball court behind the fire station, the pro shop at the golf club, the
Gazette
. He barges in and asks for Cole with a look on his face that would scare a sumo wrestler. Cole’s not there and Nick paces around like a caged lion and finally flings himself outside again. Then he races back downtown and skulks in the gazebo in the park across the street from City Hall. He waits until he gets a call on his cell and then he bolts off again. The calls seem to come right on the hour.”

I glanced at my watch. I’d picked up a bright pink Timex at Wal-Mart. A quarter to five. I gestured toward the yellow scooter. “I’ll meet you at the gazebo. Pop back and make sure he doesn’t leave.”

• • •

I parked in a small asphalt lot and cut across the park at a slant. I glimpsed portions of the gazebo, but most of the structure was hidden. Old maples and firs surrounded the gazebo, offering shade and the illusion of a remote country glade right in the heart of town. Halfway across the park, I was aware of city employees streaming down the broad white steps of City Hall across the street. A few steps more and I entered a dusky path that curved through the trees like a country lane.

The temperature was drifting down into the sixties. I reached the edge of the trees. Nick stood in the gazebo, body tense, shoulders bunched, hands in fists. He was bare-armed in the same ratty polo he’d worn that morning. His age-whitened Levi’s sagged on his hips. The dark stubble on his cheeks was heavier. Despite his disreputable appearance, I saw rock-hard determination in his face.

“Nick.”

At my call, he swung toward me. He made a gesture of impatience. “I don’t have time to talk to you.” He looked at his watch. “Get lost.”

I walked up the gazebo steps. “What makes you think Cole will show up this time?”

Expressions slid over his face—surprise, irritation, uncertainty, and an underlying anger bubbling hot as lava. “How’d you know?”

“By this time”—my voice was dry—“practically everybody in town has heard you’re hunting for Cole Clanton like a sheriff after a horse thief.”

“Do they know why?” He barely managed to push out the question.

“Not unless you’ve told them.”

“Not me. But Cole can’t resist twisting the knife. He called Arlene, told her what he’d do if I didn’t cooperate. He called Jan. I’ll make him pay for that. Damn him, I don’t care about the Arnold place. He can have it. But he’s got to shut up. Who’s he going to tell next?”

“We can stop him. But you have to do exactly as I say.”

A hot whisper buzzed in my ear. “Get to the point.”

I turned toward the sound and snarled, “If you’ll resist micromanaging for a half second, I will.”

Nick’s head jerked, too. He stared at the empty space next to me, made a strangled sound. “Lady, I don’t have time for you to act like Aunt Dee’s lurking around.”

His cell phone rang. Although, to be accurate, the summons wasn’t a ring. Rather, quarter notes on the backbeat of a snare drum played with brushes.

An ordinary ring should be good enough for anyone. I have never found making oneself seem special an attractive quality.

Holding the cell in his right hand, Nick glanced at the caller ID. His face hardened.

The call must have been from Cole Clanton.

I grabbed Nick’s right arm. “Dee, catch his other hand.”

Nick’s strangled yelp and panicked stare at his left arm indicated Dee, for once, had followed instructions.

I talked fast, knowing we had only seconds. “Don’t let Cole butt you around. Tell him this is the last call you’re taking. Take charge. Tell him you’ll meet him with a written and signed promise to sell the property to him for one dollar. Answer it now.” I let go of his right arm.

He lifted the cell phone. “Nick.” He spoke through stiff lips, his gaze fastened on his left arm.

I frantically tried to figure a location that would satisfy my requirements for the vanquishing of Cole Clanton, then realized the gazebo was perfect. “Tell him nine o’clock tonight. Here at the gazebo.” The gazebo was downtown, and there were cars up and down the streets. I doubted Cole Clanton harbored any fear of Phidippus, but he may have heard about the threats Nick had been flinging around Adelaide. In that event, the choice should be reassuring. Critical to my plan, however, was the gazebo’s isolation in the center of town, hidden from view by the encircling trees. On a chilly October evening, the likelihood of anyone visiting the gazebo was fairly remote.

Nick’s voice was thin. “I’m not chasing around town anymore, Cole. I won’t answer if you call again. I’ll have the paper for you tonight. Nine o’clock. The gazebo.”

I reached over and clicked off the phone.

Nick gave another yelp. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Saving Arlene.”

The cell rang again. “Don’t answer. Shut up and listen.”

“Do as she says.” Dee’s voice brooked no disagreement.

His head jerked to the left. He tried to move his arm and made little progress. “Aunt Dee?” His voice cracked.

“If
she
were more capable, you would never have known I was here. Nick, dear, do as she says. Possibly she has a good idea.” There was no conviction in Dee’s tone.

I was hot. “If
she
had any character, I wouldn’t have to involve her. But I can’t disappear and she can. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

N
ick got out of his car behind the B and B.

I parked the scooter beside the back steps. It was chilly now that the day was waning. I’d wear my new thick black cardigan this evening.

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.

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.