If Mashed Potatoes Could Dance (13 page)

Gram looked at Sally and then at me. “Huh. It’s set to be demolished in the next little while, isn’t it?”

“Jake says in a week or so. He’s trying to stop them. He’s trying to get the house on the historical register,” I said.

“I don’t know why you can’t get in there, Sally, but I suspect that it means that the house did, indeed, have something to do with your life. I don’t know what, though. Another ghost, Jerome, can’t get into the jail, and we think that’s because he was an outlaw, but I’m afraid I don’t know enough about you to know what your holdup is.”

Sally hopped off the butcher block. “I’d sure like to figure it out.”

Interrupting us, Cliff pushed through the front swinging doors and said, “Betts?”

I looked at Sally and Gram. “Excuse me a minute.”

“Mmmm,” Sally said, able to switch gears easily every time a nice-looking man came into view. “He’s one of the police officers. He’s adorable, Betts. Is he yours?”

Gram looked at me as if I might really answer, but I ignored them both and joined Cliff in the front reception area.

“Thanks for coming out here,” I said.

“Sure. You sounded upset.”

“I did? I didn’t know that. Sorry. I’m not really upset, but I’m concerned and worried and…this is all turning very crazy. Oh, maybe I am a little upset. Sorry.”

He put his hand on my arm. “Deep breath, B. Just tell me what’s going on.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the note. “Jake
got this today. He was afraid to show it to the police. I told him he had to, but we didn’t want to be obvious about it just in case he was being watched.”

Cliff took the note and read it silently. He looked up shortly. “Don’t suppose there’s anything more than this. Maybe a spot where the note was left, maybe a chance to try for fingerprints?”

“After he unlocked and opened the doors this morning, he did some work in the archive room. When he came back out, the note was on his podium.”

“And a million people have touched that podium,” Cliff said, finishing my thought.

“Exactly.”

“I’ll get this to Jim. You did the right thing, Betts. Thank you. You okay?”

“Fine.”

“You need to be careful, be aware, and so does Jake. Got it?”

I nodded. “Of course. Have you learned anything else yet? Any other clues or…anything?”

He bit at the inside of his cheek and looked at the ground long enough that I knew he was debating whether or not to tell me something.

“Cliff, what is it?”

“Damon Rim escaped from prison, night before last. We just got word.”

“Oh no! That’s definitely not good news. He must be the one who killed Greg Carlisle, right?” It felt like my heart skipped a beat or two. No matter what, Damon Rim out of prison wasn’t good; the fact that a murder had occurred shortly after his escape seemed too coincidental.

“We don’t know. We’ve got this note now and a busload,
minus three, of scared and worried tourists, and that’s it. We moved them to the motel. Georgina is staying with Stuart. We haven’t told her about Damon yet, but Jim’s brought in all kinds of police from all over to help with the case as well as try to protect everyone he thinks might need protecting.”

“I’m so sorry, Cliff.” It was my turn to put my hand on his arm.

“We’ll figure it out, Betts. Thanks. This is important.” He held up the note. “This might help.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, but I could tell there was even more on his mind. “What?”

“I wonder whether I should lock you all up just to keep you safe, hire security guards, or just stay with you until this thing’s solved.”

I smiled. “We’ll be careful, though spending all that time together might be okay. I doubt Jim would agree. I guess this is one of the issues with your new career. You’re much more exposed to all the evil in the world. You’re going to want to be protective, and I get that. Again, we’ll be careful.”

“Good.”

“Jim can handle the fact that the note says ‘No police’?”

“Jim knows how to be discreet.”

“Good,” I said again.

“I’ll call you later.”

Something told me that he might end up being too busy to make that call.

“She’s not bad, really,” Sally said as I inspected the pie.
“Either she and I are alike in some ways, or she made sure to learn lots of things about my personality. She’s much better than some of the other Sallys I remember.”

Sally was telling us about Opie’s performance. It was childish, I knew, but I couldn’t help but be irritated that Opie might actually be able to do something right.

“Opie’s a good actress,” Gram said.

I held back what I could only describe as a guffaw.

“She did a good job,” Sally said. “In fact, she did one thing I’ve not seen any of the other actresses do.”

“What?” I said.

“She talked about the friendship I struck up in jail. I made friends with a fellow criminal right before I died. It was Opie’s portrayal that made me remember the friendship at all.”

“Interesting. I haven’t seen this year’s show. I’ll have to
stop by.” Gram inspected the kitchen and reached behind to untie her apron. “Let’s let the pie set and give our bones a break.” Gram signaled us to follow her out of the kitchen and to the reception area. “Tell us more,” she said as she plopped in one of the chairs.

I sat in another chair as Sally perched on the desk.

“Right before I died, I met Oscar Lowenfeld. I hadn’t been transported to prison yet, so I was just in the county jail. Oscar was a drunk, a mean drunk apparently. The only place he wouldn’t or couldn’t drink was in jail. When he was there, he was sober and kind—well, kind in his way. He claimed he didn’t know the person he was when he was drunk. He claimed he couldn’t recall those moments. I probably wouldn’t remember him if your friend Opie hadn’t reminded me of him today. He turned out to be one of the best friends I ever had, even though we knew each other only a few days.”

“How was he your best friend?” I asked.

“He told me everything would be okay, no matter what. Even if I died by hanging, things would be all right. I know, it sounds stupid, but I believed him. We spent time talking about life and how short it is for everyone, and how unfair it is, I think. I remember more the way I felt when I was talking to him than the conversations themselves. I felt safe.”

“That sounds like a pretty important part of your life, Sally,” I said. “I wonder why no one else has bothered to portray it.”

“Dunno. Maybe they didn’t know about it.”

“How would Opie have that information, then?” I said.

“Oh! My diary!” Sally said as she quickly stood. “She must have my diary. It’s not buried with my body, and it’s not in that house. She has it!”

She sounded so certain and so pleased that I hated to be the one to burst her bubble. Nonetheless…

“I don’t think so, Sally. How would Ophelia Buford get a hold of your diary?” I said. “You’ve just got it on your mind. It’s understandable, but it doesn’t seem possible that Opie has it.”

“If I had a diary and if they let me write in it in jail, I’m sure I wrote about Oscar. He was important to me.” She looked back and forth between me and Gram. “I can’t remember all the performances I’ve watched, but I don’t remember anyone ever talking about Oscar. How about you two?”

“I don’t remember anyone ever talking about Oscar either, but it’s pretty unlikely that Ophelia has your diary. You’re just hoping so much to find it that…well, it’s just not likely, Sally,” Gram said, echoing what I’d try to convey a moment earlier.

“Then how does she know?” Sally demanded.

“Opie has lots of money. When she was set to portray you this summer, I’m sure she researched your life top to bottom. She might have read things that no one else had read before, but your diary? I’m with Gram, it’s pretty far-fetched,” I said.

“I don’t know,” Sally said. “I just don’t know. I think I’m going to track her down, maybe follow her a little. I’ll see you later,” she said. And then she disappeared before we could stop her.

Gram looked at me. “Don’t get me wrong, Betts, but see what I mean? They’re not always a treat to have around. Oh well, at least we have a delicious sweet potato pie.”

I nodded absently. I truly didn’t think Opie had read Sally’s diary, but she must have had access to some source that told her about Oscar. The fact that I hadn’t heard about the intimate details of Sally’s life was not unusual, but Gram had enough interest in Broken Rope’s history and enough contact
with the dead versions of the people who made that history that I did find it odd she hadn’t known about Oscar. I needed to double-check with Jake, but if he didn’t know about Oscar either, I might feel the need to ask Opie where she’d gotten her information. I rolled my eyes just thinking about how much she would relish me needing something from her and how painfully coy she’d be with the answers.

“Betts?” Gram said.

I blinked. “Sorry, just thinking.”

“I understand. Lots going on. Can I help with anything?”

Gram was right, there was lots going on, but I didn’t want to tell her about Damon Rim or the note Jake had received because I didn’t want to cause her extra worry. And I didn’t want to discuss how Opie could have possibly come to know so much about Sally. But there was something else I wanted to talk to her about, something that I’d kept to myself but that I now thought should be brought out in the open.

“Maybe,” I said. “It’s about the ghosts.”

“I’m your expert.”

“What’s the deal with the night? I mean, why do the ghosts become three-dimensional in the dark, almost real? I could feel Jerome and he could feel me when the light was either really dim or gone altogether.”

Gram blinked and then lifted her eyebrows high. “They don’t do that, Betts.”

I cleared my throat. “They do. I could touch Jerome, and he could feel me and touch me back. Last night it seemed to be happening to Sally outside the dormitory, but I didn’t touch her to find out, considering she carries an ax.”

Gram sighed heavily and sat back in the chair. I hadn’t noticed she’d been leaning farther and farther forward as I spoke.

“Before you could see them, I didn’t know anyone else who could. Now that you can, it’s just you and me. They don’t come with an instruction manual. There was no one to guide me on how to treat them or behave around them. I promise you that if I tried to touch a ghost or they tried to touch me, even in the dark, neither of us would feel a thing. Whatever it is that happened to you probably happened only to you. I don’t know why and I don’t understand it, but instinct tells me you’re perhaps a more evolved version of me. Maybe. Or maybe you and Jerome shared a special kind of connection, a connection he and I have never had. Give it a real try with Sally—though you might want to be cautious how you handle it with her—and see what happens. Perhaps you can write the rule book for future generations. I wish I had the answers.” She gave me a pained expression. “And I know I’ve said this before, but I have to say it again, because I would be remiss if I didn’t. I know very little about our visitors, but I know this much: they aren’t alive, they never will be. Don’t mess up your opportunities with the living because of what happened between you with Jerome, though now I think I understand it better. I know you still think about him, but you have to let him go, Betts. Okay?”

I opened my mouth to say that I really didn’t think about him. But I did. I didn’t want to, but I did. I remembered the coin still in my pocket. I hadn’t really thought about it all day, but it was still there.

“I’m doing better,” I said. I was, and I was truly excited about where Cliff and I might be headed.

“I hope so, dear, I really hope so.” Gram stood, patted my leg, and then disappeared back into the kitchen.

Thankfully, the buzz of my cell phone interrupted my self-involved thoughts.

“Jake, you okay?” I said.

“Fine. Did you, you know?”

“I did. I talked to Cliff, and I know it will be handled with the utmost discretion.”

Jake sighed. “Good. I guess. We’ll see, I suppose.”

“I need to talk to you some more. How about meeting me and Cliff for dinner tonight at Bunny’s?”

“Sounds like a third-wheel opportunity.”

I laughed. “No, just three friends having dinner.”

“What if I’m seen having dinner with a police officer by…by whoever?”

“It would be normal for you to have dinner with me and Cliff. We’ll make sure we don’t look like we’re talking about anything serious. Besides, it’s Bunny’s. Who would go to Bunny’s to tell the police anything?”

Jake didn’t answer.

“Look, Jake, you have every right to be scared, but you don’t have to be alone. If we just act normal, we’ll be fine.”

“Don’t you think we should be searching for the missing people?”

A zing of guilt tightened my throat. “Sure, maybe, but I wouldn’t know where to begin. Would you?”

“I just saw Stuart and Georgina go into Stuart’s shoe shop. I’ve got time until my next show. I thought I’d stop by and talk to them.”

“I actually thought of stopping by there earlier.”

“Well, I’ve got to do something, Betts.”