“There’s no need,” she said with a sigh and got back to scrubbing the floor.
I felt so bad that tears stung my eyes, and I desperately wanted to make it up to her. “Anya?” I asked.
“Aye,” she said without looking up.
“You mother’s name was Molly, right?”
Anya’s hand stopped making swirling motions on the floor and she sat back on her heels to give me an accusing glare. “Have you been going through me things?”
I shook my head vigorously. “No! It’s just that Heath and I have a special talent. When we concentrate really hard, we can make connections to people who have died.”
“You’re mediums?” she asked, and I noticed a hint of interest in her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Are you tellin’ me that me mum is talking to you, then?”
“Yes.”
“What’s she have to say?”
I took a deep breath. “She says that she’s glad you finally went to the doctor about that pain in your chest, and not to worry—she doesn’t think it’s going to be anything bad or something you can’t handle. She’s also very grateful to you for looking out for your brother, and associated with him I get the name Pat or Patrick. She’s saying he’s been a handful all these years and you’ve always put up with it because he’s your little brother, and again she’s grateful.”
Tears appeared in Anya’s eyes and her mouth formed a small circle. She didn’t speak, and I wondered if I should say more. Finally she asked, “What does me mum say about the plate you broke?”
I bit my lip. I didn’t know if she was being funny or serious, so in my mind I asked her mother what she thought about the broken plate, and hoped the answer wouldn’t make me feel worse than I already did. Molly’s answer surprised me. “She says you’ve got two more just like it in the cupboard.”
Anya’s face brightened into a broad smile. “Aye,” she acknowledged with a small laugh. “I do. And the one that broke had a chip in it anyway.”
“Again, we’re really, really sorry, Anya.”
This time when she nodded, I felt like she’d finally decided to forgive us. “S’all right,” she told me with a wave of her hand. “I’d still prefer you move on to other lodgin’s, but it’s all right.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thank you again for all you did for us.”
I turned to go and Anya called me back. “Do you know where you’ll go?” she asked.
“Not really.”
“You might try Sean Tierney’s place at the Dunlee Inn. He’s always got rooms this time of year.”
I thanked her and took my leave.
We found our way to the Dunlee Inn and Anya was right—they did have room for us. As we were trying to be budget conscious now that we didn’t have jobs, we took only two rooms. We were given a set of door keys to side-by-side rooms and made our way upstairs.
There was a very awkward moment when we arrived at the rooms, because we hadn’t really settled on who would be sleeping with whom. ... Er ... I mean, which of the three of us would get his or her own room. Heath finally settled it by suggesting that he bunk with Gilley, which, when I thought about it, was really sweet, because it would give me the power to invite him over if I felt lonely—or not.
Once we’d unloaded our luggage, we made our way back downstairs and out of the inn to find someplace to eat breakfast. Since Gilley was driving, he ended up picking and took us to the first greasy spoon he could find. After we were settled and had ordered our meal, Gilley asked about the previous night.
I filled him in on all of it, and he listened intently, his eyes sparkling with interest, especially when I got to the part about the secret passage under the causeway.
“How many people do you think know about that?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I doubt there are many. That manhole has the entrance pretty well covered.”
Gilley popped the last bite of his very big breakfast into his mouth and announced, “I have news to share too!”
I remembered him saying as much to me the night before. “Dish,” I said.
“Guess who I found.”
My heart skipped a beat and my mind went right to Gopher. “Oh, my God,” I said. “And you didn’t tell us?”
Gilley smiled broadly. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
I shook my head and glared hard at Gilley. “You’re an ass,” I spat.
Heath must have been thinking the same thing I was because he set down his water glass and glared at Gilley too. “So not cool, dude,” he growled.
Gilley blinked. “Wait—what?”
“How could you keep that from us?” I demanded. “Do you know what we’ve been through?”
“Uh ...,” Gilley said.
“So where is he?” Heath asked, looking around suspiciously. “Was he in on your little joke too? I should kick his ass. ...”
Gilley raised a hand. “Hold on,” he said. “Who do you think I’ve found?”
“Gopher,” Heath and I said together.
Gilley let out a relieved sigh. “I haven’t found Gopher.”
It was our turn to blink in surprise. “Then who did you find?” I asked.
“Alex.”
“Oh!” I said, feeling the tension leave my shoulders. “Sorry, honey! I was really thinking you’d found Gopher and were torturing us.”
“Even I’m not that mean,” he told me.
“I know, I know. Again, I’m sorry.” And then I wanted to know more. “So where is this mysterious Alex?”
“Belize.”
“I thought she was Russian?” Heath said.
“Oh, she is,” Gilley assured him. “And sooooo much more.”
“I feel a long-winded story coming,” I muttered.
Gilley narrowed his eyes at me, but didn’t let that stop him from telling us what he knew. “Alexandra Neverov was born in Novgorod thirty-two years ago. Her father was an archaeologist at the Novgorod Institute of Technology until he and his family defected to the United States in nineteen eighty-five, where he then took up a post at New York University. Alex also went to NYU, graduating with top honors in the same field as her father—archaeology.”
I put up my hand. “Hold on, Gil,” I said. “How do you know all this stuff about her?”
“From her Web page,” Gilley said with a smartypants smile.
“Ah. Okay, please continue.”
“Oh, I’m just getting to the best part! See, according to Alex’s Web page, it was about the time that she graduated from NYU that her intuitive abilities began to surface in earnest.”
“Her intuitive abilities?” Heath repeated.
Gilley nodded his head vigorously. “Yep.”
“She’s psychic?” I clarified.
“Yep.”
“Is she also a medium?”
“No,” Gilley told me. “Not per se. Her talent is much cooler than that.”
I frowned. “Gee, thanks.”
Gilley ignored the fact that he’d just insulted both Heath and me and rushed on. “She’s a dowser,” he said. “And apparently, she’s a really good one.”
“A dowser,” I repeated flatly. “How exactly is walking around with a rod in the desert looking for water cooler than talking to dead people?”
“Oh, she doesn’t hunt for water, M. J. She hunts for gold.”
My eyebrows shot up and Heath looked equally surprised. “She’s a psychic treasure hunter?” he asked. “For real?”
“Yep.”
I sat back in my chair and laughed. “Well, now we know how she fits into this puzzle. If she’s able to dowse for gold, then that’s why Kincaid would have wanted her along to find Dunnyvale’s treasure. She probably would have found it too if Kincaid hadn’t died. And if they were as close a couple as Mary suggested, I can see why Alex would have left and never come back. Too many bad memories.”
Gilley pointed his finger at me. “Bingo. The other point of interest on Alex’s Web site is that she claims to have had a
good deal of success finding treasure protected by curses, poltergeists, and various angry spooks.”
“So she’s also a ghostbuster,” I said. Gilley nodded and I added, “That explains the backpack filled with spikes that she wore to get past the phantom.”
Heath squirmed in his chair trying to find a more comfortable position again. “But how does she figure into this whole mystery with our missing producer?” he asked. “I mean, Dunnyvale keeps telling you we need to find her to bring Gopher back—so what’s her connection?”
My good humor faded quickly. “I have no idea.”
“And you guys didn’t find a single trace of him at the castle?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Heath and I are convinced he made it off the rock, either by way of the causeway or the tunnel that runs underneath it.”
“So where is he?” Gil pressed. “I mean, if he made it off the rock, why hasn’t he tried to contact us?”
With a jolt I remembered the letter taped to the door that I’d shoved into my back pocket earlier. Pulling it out quickly, I told the boys where I’d found it, and tore it open to read it, but the moment my eyes rested on the top line, I sucked in a horrified breath. “Oh, no!” I whispered.
“What?” Gil asked.
I turned the paper around so that he and Heath could see it. “It’s Gopher’s handwriting.”
Gilley snatched the letter out of my hand and held it close to read it.
“Dear Ghoul Getters, I’m being held against my will. I am being ordered to write this letter to beg you to secure my safe return. To achieve this, my captor is insisting that you rid Castle Dunlow of its phantom. You have until Sunday to accomplish this task; otherwise, terrible things will happen to me. And I must warn you that if you go to the police again, I will be killed, and you will never find me. Please, guys, don’t let me down. Please, help me.”
We fell into a stunned silence and stared at one another with wide eyes. Finally, I broke the silence. “Sunday is in four days,” I said, before turning to Gilley. “Honey, find me a phone number for Alex.”
“She’s in Belize,” Gilley reminded me. “In the middle of the jungle. How am I supposed to find you a working phone number for her?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care, Gil!” I snapped, as the stress over Gopher’s confirmed kidnapping got to me. I knew it would be a difficult task for Gil, but he had to try and I didn’t want to hear his excuses.
“Why do you need to call her?” Heath asked me, his voice soft and soothing.
I sighed tiredly and folded Gopher’s letter, working to rein in my horns. “Because I’ve got to convince her to come back to Dunlow and help me deal with this phantom. Pronto.”
“Help you?” Heath pressed. “Don’t you mean us?”
“No,” I said, my hand moving to rest gently right above his wound. “I don’t. You’re going to sit the rest of this bust out, sweetheart. It’s time for the girls’ team to go in and kick some phantom ass.”
Chapter 12
Gilley found a contact number for Alex, who was actually vacationing at a resort and not in the middle of the jungle excavating some old tomb. I had the much more difficult task of convincing her to come to Ireland.
“We desperately need your help,” I explained, after introducing myself and telling her the basic reason for my call. “The person or persons who’ve taken our friend will not free him until we’ve gotten rid of the phantom at Castle Dunlow.”
The other end of the line was silent for a bit, and I would have thought that we’d been disconnected if I hadn’t heard music and lively chatter in the background. “M. J.,” she said at last, “you have no idea how abhorrent the idea of returning to Dunlow is to me. I vowed four years ago that I would never return. I meant it then and I mean it now. I’m very sorry, but I cannot help you.”
I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. I held in my hand a trump card that just might work, but it was also a terrible way to manipulate this total stranger into agreeing to help us. Still, I didn’t see any other option. “What if I were to offer my services and help you in return?” I said. “Or should I say, what if I were to help someone you loved in return?”
“Someone I love?” she asked, the small hint of her Russian accent surfacing and a bit of humor mixed in. “M. J., my parents have no need of a ghostbuster. They live in a brand-new condo in Orlando. No ghosts there.”
I squeezed the phone in my hand, regretting what I was about to say and wishing there were another way to convince her. “I’m not talking about your folks,” I said carefully. “I’m talking about Jordan.”
Through the phone line I heard her gasp. In a hoarse whisper she said, “Jordan is dead.”
“Yes,” I said. “But his spirit is currently trapped at Dunlow. He’s reliving the moments right up until his death over and over again, Alex.”
“What are you even talking about?” she demanded, her tone harsh and accusing.
I shifted the phone to my other ear. “The first night we came here was really foggy, but we wanted to cross the causeway and get a look at what we were up against. About halfway across we heard a man desperately calling out the name Alex, but in the dense fog we couldn’t pinpoint his location. The next day, as we were climbing up the stairs, we heard the same man crying out again for Alex to please help him. When we looked at the far side of the cliff, we saw the spirit of Jordan Kincaid dangling off the edge of the rock. My partner and I ran up the rest of the stairs and tried to save him, thinking he was a real person, but when we got to him, he slipped away and fell to the rocks below.”
I couldn’t imagine what my telling all this to Alex was doing to her, but still I continued ... because I had to. “His spirit is stuck in the ether, Alex, and the phantom is so terrifying that his ghost can’t let go. It can only replay what happened to him that awful night over and over and over again while he waits for you to come help him. He’s begging you to come back and change the outcome.”
I listened hard for Alex’s reaction, but I couldn’t even hear her breathing on the other end. Finally, a small sob came through the line, followed by a sniffle. “Please, tell me you are lying,” she cried. “Tell me that you just made that up so that I would agree to come help you!”
I looked down at the ground and wondered if I’d reached a new low. “I’m so sorry, Alex, but it’s the truth. I want to help Jordan cross over so that he can finally be released from his nightmare and find some peace, but I can’t get through to him while the phantom’s on the prowl. If you want me to help the man you were going to marry, the man you loved, then you have to come here and help me deal with the phantom.”
I listened to Alex cry softly for a bit, hoping someday she’d forgive me. At last, she sniffled loudly, took a breath, and said, “Fine. I will book the ticket and be there tomorrow.” With that, the line went dead.
Gilley and I met Alex at the airport. She wasn’t hard to spot. Tall, leggy, and almost unjustly pretty, Alex probably could even have turned Gilley straight if she’d wanted to. “Wowsa,” he said when he first saw her.
“Her Web photo doesn’t really do her justice, does it?” I said as we watched her cut through the throng at the baggage claim.
“Uh ... no.”
Alex was roughly five nine, with small hips, broad shoulders, a thin athletic frame, and a heart-shaped face settled perfectly on an elegant neck. Her very long hair was flame red, which accentuated her porcelain white skin and emerald eyes. If I hadn’t needed her help so badly, I likely would have turned and left her beautiful self at the airport.
“Wait till Heath gets a load of her,” Gilley whispered with an elbow nudge to my side just as she spotted us and began to walk purposefully in our direction.
“Aw, crap,” I muttered. I’m not exactly a plain Jane, but this woman was supermodel gorgeous. How could you compete with that?
“Hello,” she said when she reached us. “I’m Alex Neverov.”
Gilley giggled like a schoolgirl, blushed a
deep shade of red, and actually curtsied.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and instead extended my hand. “You’ll have to excuse him,” I said. “I’m M. J. and this is my partner, Gilley.”
But Alex was laughing. Taking my hand and giving it a firm pump, she said, “It’s nice to meet you.”
I motioned for her to follow me to the van, and Gilley sidled up next to her and said, “Can I take you for your luggage?”
I gave him an exasperated look and Alex giggled again. “Do you mean can you take my luggage for me?”
“Uh ... yeah,” he said, blushing again. “That.”
This was going to be a long drive back to the inn.
When we reached our hotel, we found Heath in the bar. He was working his way off the pain meds he’d been prescribed and was substituting it for something a bit milder. Like beer. “Hey, buddy!” Gilley called when we entered with Alex after getting her checked in.
Heath swiveled around carefully and I swear he did the Wile E. Coyote BAROOGA! eyes when he saw our Russian friend. Oh, yeah, and he also snorted beer out his nose.
I sighed and sat down at the next table over. This was going to be a long day.
“Sorry about that,” Heath said, working furiously to mop up the table with his dainty little cocktail napkin. I didn’t have the heart to tell him about the foam resting on his upper lip. “I’m Heath, and you are way more gorgeous than your picture!”
“Gee, Heath,” I said evenly. “Got beer?” (Huh. Look’t that. I had the heart to tell him after all.)
He looked confused until I made a motion across my upper lip. He quickly wiped his sleeve over his face and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” he said again.
Alex laughed merrily and laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, Heath, and it’s very nice to meet you too.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” Heath and Gilley said together in a rush.
“Oh!” Alex said, slightly taken aback by all the enthusiasm ... and nasal spray. “Uh ... I think I will have a sparkling water with lime if you all will join me for some refreshment.”