Page 17 of Ghouls Gone Wild

  Gilley looked curiously at me. “What?”

  “Cameron Lancaster.”

  “Um . . . what?” Gil said.

  “He’s grounded,” I explained. “Which means he might remember what happened to him and who murdered him.”

  “Can you talk to him?” Gilley asked, a bit of excitement in his voice.

  “If I can find him,” I said. “And I think the best place to look for him is at Bonnie’s.”

  “Then let’s hurry up and get over there,” Heath suggested, rising from the table.

  I was about to get up too when Gil whined, “But I’m not finished! Jeez, you guys, can’t a guy eat a meal without running off all over hill and dale?”

  As if in answer there was a loud ZZZZZT! just off to our left, and the plug where the coffeemaker was resting fried out and began to smoke. Gilley jumped to his feet and reached for the small red extinguisher he carried everywhere, but one of the managers was quicker and he moved in with a much-larger version that sent a spray of white foam all over the outlet.

  There were collective gasps from the patrons and a mad dash of staff to pull out the plugs from the coffee machine and the small icebox next to it. The moment things appeared to be under control, Gil said, “On second thought, maybe I can skip breakfast today. Let’s boogie.”

  Chapter 10

  Gopher came with us to Bonnie’s. We needed him to drive because Heath’s cast put him out of playing chauffeur, and I just couldn’t face another excursion with me behind the wheel on the wrong side of the road, and Gilley was far too rattled by the electrical surge at the restaurant to be able to focus on anything more than chewing his nails while hugging the fire extinguisher.

  I eyed my partner skeptically on the drive over. He looked more than stressed. He’d lost some more weight and his complexion seemed pale with big blue bags under his buggy-looking eyes. He seemed exhausted and anxious at the same time, and I suddenly wondered if he’d managed more than a few hours’ sleep in the last several days.

  We’d been very careful about unplugging anything electric in our hotel room, but still, it had to be a little disconcerting to be so close to an outlet that could at any moment explode into a shower of sparks and set your room on fire again.

  I knew that the witch would not give up until either we shut her down or she killed Gilley, and with his passport still in the custody of the Scottish authorities, there wasn’t much we could do to get him away from her by sending Gil far from here, preferably back home.

  And if I knew anything about spooks—which I did—I knew that once they set their sights on haunting someone, they didn’t let a pesky little thing like distance interfere. The more determined ones had no problem crossing oceans and continents to follow someone they were after.

  We arrived at Bonnie’s just in time to see the inspector who was working the case of Cameron’s death step through her front door and come down the steps to his unmarked car in the drive. Gopher parked just down the street and we all silently understood that it would be better if the inspector didn’t know we were paying Bonnie a visit.

  “Wonder what that’s about,” I muttered as I watched the man get into his car.

  “He’s probably just filling her in on the findings so far,” Gopher assured me.

  “Yeah, well, in that case, maybe you should stay here in the car with Gil while Heath and I go talk to Bonnie.”

  Gopher swiveled in his seat to look at me. “You think she might blame us even in light of the new details?”

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But I’d rather not find out by having her slam the door in my face when we ask if we can talk to her.”

  “Good point,” Gopher conceded. “Okay, we’ll stay put.”

  Heath and I waited until the inspector was well on his way before we exited the car and approached Bonnie’s house. We hadn’t even climbed the two steps when the door opened and out came Cameron’s pregnant girlfriend. She stopped abruptly when she saw us. “What do you lot want?” she snapped. I was beginning to think that her lack of civility had less to do with her grieving Cameron’s loss or her hormones and more to do with her just being a bitch.

  “We’re here to see Bonnie,” I said. “Is she in?”

  Rose shook her head. “Naw. She’s out.”

  I willed myself to smile politely. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

  Rose shuffled down the other stairs and moved to walk past us. “I don’t, and if I did, I wouldn’t tell you, now, would I?”

  Her remark gave me pause and I turned as she brushed past me roughly to say, “Do you have some kind of problem with me or something?”

  The girl took two more paces, then stopped. She stood without moving for maybe five heartbeats; then she slowly turned. “Yeah, I’ve got a problem,” she practically growled. “You and your fancy cameras came here to film yourselves a ghost story and now my Cameron is dead. And now my babe will never know her father. All because of you!”

  I took a step forward, wanting to both comfort her and assure her that we had nothing to do with his death, but the hard glare that she gave me stopped me in my tracks and all I could do at that moment was say, “I’m so sorry.”

  Her eyes narrowed and I thought she was going to say something else, but she didn’t. Instead she turned and waddled off. Heath and I waited on the walk until she disappeared around the corner. “Now what?” he asked just as my phone rang.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Now what?” Gil asked. I assumed he’d guessed by the body language what kind of exchange the pregnant chick and I had had.

  I smiled. “I think we should wait for Bonnie.”

  “Do you know where she is or when she’ll be back?”

  My smile widened. “Yes and yes,” I said, lifting my other hand to wave at an approaching figure with several canvas bags walking down the street toward us.

  Heath and I hurried to help Bonnie with her groceries. Heath insisted on carrying at least one bag and I juggled another two while Bonnie walked with the remaining small satchel of fruit. “That’s very kind of you,” she said. “We’ll just get these into the kitchen and I can put on a spot of tea for our chat.”

  Heath and I exchanged glances. “How’d you know we wanted to talk to you?”

  “You’re part of the ghost-hunting team that ran over Cameron, aren’t you?” she said.

  I gulped. “I swear to God, Bonnie, that was an accident.”

  “Aye,” she said, lifting her free hand, which held a set of keys to her door. “I know that, miss. I’ve heard from the inspector this morning and he told me you lot weren’t responsible. It was the witch’s doing. And where that devil woman’s ghost is concerned, no one living is really to blame.”

  We followed Bonnie inside and I nearly tripped right over several suitcases parked in the hallway. “Don’t mind those,” she called over her shoulder, heading deeper into the house. “I’m off on holiday just as soon as I stock the icebox for Rose.”

  “She’s not going with you?” I asked, thinking it might be a good idea for the both of them to get someplace far, far away and deal with their loss.

  Bonnie shook her head sadly as she set down her package on the kitchen table in the tiny but tidy kitchen. “She won’t come. I tried all last night to get her to listen to reason, but the girl’s as stubborn as a mule. And I hate to leave her so close to her due date, but I’ve no choice, now, do I? If I stay, it’s certain the witch will come along and kill me as well.”

  “Do you think Rose’s baby is in danger?”

  “You mean from the witch?” Bonnie asked, and I nodded. “No,” she said. “Not even Rigella is that cruel. In all the years she’s been sporting her revenge, she’s never struck down anyone younger than fourteen. Still, that’s terribly young to have your life taken by such an evil as that. And besides, Rose and Camey never married, so there’s no name to pass on to the child but Rose’s own.”

  Heath was quietly unloading the bags and setting the contents on the counter. He appeared troubled by something Bonnie had said, but he didn’t interrupt us, so I continued.

  “Bonnie,”
I began, “what can you tell us about the witch?”

  Our hostess moved to fill a teakettle with water. “You mean what can I tell you that may help you stop her, don’t you?” she asked, avoiding my question.

  “Yes,” I said honestly. “I’ve had a lot of experience shutting down nasty spooks like the witch.”

  Bonnie smiled, but her eyes held no mirth. She set the kettle on the burner and turned on the gas. “I’d wager you never encountered one quite so powerful, though, eh?”

  “No, not really. Which is why I need to know anything you can tell me about her. The more I know, the better my chances are for putting her in her place before she kills someone else.”

  “I hear she’s after one of your crew,” Bonnie said, still avoiding my question. “That Gillespie character. The one in the van that ran over Cameron. The witch is working very hard to add him to her list, am I right?”

  I hesitated before answering her. She seemed to know a lot about us and that was throwing me off, but when I caught Heath’s eye, he gave me a small nod. “Yes,” I told her. “I believe the witch is after my partner, Gilley. She keeps trying to burn him with fire, and she’s using electrical outlets to send surges and get the sparks to fly.”

  “He’d best be careful, then,” Bonnie said, crossing her arms and looking at me as if she could read my mind. “And you as well.”

  I felt a small chill travel up my spine and I was immediately uncomfortable. I didn’t know what Bonnie meant by that, but I decided not to pursue it and attempted one last time to get some answers out of her.

  “Thank you,” I said, “and I will be careful. But if you could please tell us everything you know about the witch, that might give us an advantage here and we could work to keep everyone else safe too.”

  Bonnie turned away from me and reached for a plate from the cabinet, then began to arrange cookies on it. “I know a bit about the witch,” she said. “But not nearly as much as someone else here in the village.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “The current Witch of Queen’s Close,” Bonnie said. “She knows everything that can be told about Rigella and her coven.”

  My jaw fell open and when I glanced at Heath, I saw that he mirrored my expression. “There is a current Witch of Queen’s Close?” I gasped.

  Bonnie turned around and set the plate on the table. “Aye. And she’s about as friendly as Rigella. Still, she might be worth paying a visit to.”

  “Bonnie,” Heath said, “you told us at your shop that Rigella and her coven were thirty-five years early. Do you think this woman you’re sending us to talk to could have called her up prematurely?”

  Bonnie took a bite of cookie as the teakettle began to whistle. She waited until she’d poured the boiling water into a teapot before she answered. “Aye,” she said, barely above a whisper. “And I also believe she was the one that killed Cameron.”

  “Why would you think that?” I asked carefully.

  “She and my brother were once a couple,” Bonnie said. “Things went sour about a year ago, when Camey took up with Rose.”

  Again I looked at Heath and our eyes locked. I felt a pulse of electricity coil up my spine. We’d already concluded that Cameron was likely killed by someone with a personal grudge against him. And who better to hold a grudge than your ex?

  “Where can we find this woman?” I asked.

  “Last I heard she was renting the small cottage on Joseph Hill’s property.”

  I sucked in a breath. “The man that was found hanging yesterday?”

  It was Bonnie’s turn to gasp. “What?” she said, the hand holding the teapot over my cup hesitating. “Joseph’s dead?”

  I nodded solemnly. “Heath and I discovered him hanging in that huge oak tree out behind Fergus Ericson’s house.”

  Bonnie’s eyes darted to her luggage out in the hall. “Then the witch has claimed another victim,” she said softly.

  “So it seems,” I agreed.

  With a shaking hand, Bonnie picked up her steaming cup of tea and took a small sip. “Oh, my,” she said. “Poor Joseph.”

  No one said anything for a long moment and Bonnie was the first to break the silence when she appeared to snap out of her thoughts and looked sharply at the clock. “I’ll need to see you off,” she announced, getting up and collecting our teacups and saucers. “Don’t want to miss me train.”

  Heath and I got up and thanked her for the tea and the cookies. She ushered us out, giving her apologies for not being able to talk with us further, and suggested we find the living Witch of Queen’s Close to get a better history and gave us very hurried directions on how to get to Joseph’s house from her cottage.

  We stepped out onto her front steps and she gave us one last farewell, before shutting the door in our faces.

  Heath and I turned and walked down the steps. “That was . . . interesting,” he said.

  “I was leaning more toward odd.”

  Heath smiled and looked at me sideways. “I’ll lean with you,” he said, and physically leaned into me, bumping me with his good shoulder.

  I started to laugh but caught myself when I looked up at him and found myself very attracted to that handsome face, even with the one swollen eye and scratched face. “What?” he asked, probably noticing how I’d caught myself.

  “Huh? Um . . . nothing.”

  “You okay?”

  “Sure!” I said a little too enthusiastically.

  Heath laughed. “Well, you’ve been a little off the past couple of days.”

  I immediately became self-conscious. “Off? How have I been off?”

  We were walking down toward the van, where Gil and Gopher were waiting for us with the engine idling. “I don’t know,” Heath said. “Every once in a while you look at me funny. And when I touch you or brush against you, you stiffen. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you thought I was repulsive.”

  I attempted a laugh.

  And failed miserably.

  What came out was some sort of high-pitched impersonation of a hyena. “Don’t be ridiculous!” I insisted, scrambling to turn the whole awful conversation into a joke. Waving my hand dramatically in a circle around his head and attempting a highbrow accent, I said, “You’re gorgeous, dahling, simply marvelous-looking!”

  “Especially with the shiner and the arm in a sling, right?” Heath said, turning his eyes to the ground.

  And I realized that he must feel really self-conscious himself about his appearance, so I stopped and caught him by the shoulder. “Dude,” I said seriously, “you really are hot, okay? Like . . . unfairly gorgeous. There are men who must hate you, and women I’ve seen firsthand practically swoon when you walk by.”

  Heath’s mouth broke into a terrific grin. “And you’d totally be into me if it weren’t for Steven, right?”

  I couldn’t help it; I blushed. I could feel the immediate searing heat hit my cheeks, and a cool sweat broke out across my brow. I darted my own eyes to the ground and hurried my pace. “Yeah,” I said. “Right. Steven’s my guy. My boyfriend. The man. My S.O. . . .”

  Mercifully I reached the van at that point and had to stop talking. Gilley opened the door for me and I hustled into the backseat, forcing Heath to take the front. The moment I began to fasten my seat belt, however, my best friend blew any remaining cover by saying, “Jeez, M. J.! What’s up with you? You’re totally flushed. Are you all hot and bothered?”

  I glared coldly at him and he immediately shut up, but his eyes also swiveled to Heath, who was also strapping himself in, and I saw a bit of understanding blossom in Gil’s eyes. He opened his mouth wide and slapped a hand over his mouth and looked ready to squeal with delight.

  I shook my head vigorously and mouthed, “NO!” at him, but his eyes were all big and his expression was absolutely giddy.

  After a moment, he mouthed back, “You and Heath?”

  “Shut up!” I mouthed back.

  Gilley broke out into a fit of giggles.

  “What’s he laughing about?” Gopher asked.

  “Nothing!” I said, punching Gil hard in the arm right before Gopher and Heath looked back at us. “I just hit
his funny bone accidentally.” Gilley continued to laugh and roll around in the backseat. I wanted to smack him. “Can we just go?” I snapped.

  Gopher looked once more at Gil before he shrugged. “Sure, M. J. Where to?”

  I recalled Bonnie’s directions, discreetly hit Gil in the arm again, then pointed to a nearby intersection. “That way.”

  We arrived at Joseph’s place about ten minutes and two wrong turns later. We could tell it was his house by the number of flowers on his front doorstep. It seemed that people in the neighborhood had heard the news and were stopping by to pay their respects through small bouquets laid on his welcome mat.

  Gopher pulled to a stop at the front door and we all just stared at those flowers. Gilley had finally recovered himself, and he was the first to speak. “Well, that’s just really, really sad.”

  I sighed. “It is.”

  “Are you sensing him, M. J.?” Heath asked me.

  I looked away from the flowers and stared up at the house, opening up my sixth sense as wide as I could. “No,” I said finally. “I’m not.”

  “Let’s get out and take a look around the house before we go in search of the woman who rents his cottage,” Heath suggested.

  I knew what he was getting at. Suicides were tough cookies. They routinely refused to cross over, and they were also the hardest energies to get to communicate. I think it has to do with the amount of shame they feel for taking their own lives. It’s as if they can’t bear the thought of what they’ve done, so they shut down and try to hide from both worlds—the living and the dead. It can take years to convince them to cross over where they’ll get some spiritual help and recover from the guilt.

  And even though I believed that Rigella had somehow convinced Joseph to take his own life, I knew that the moment he realized he was dead, he’d be facing one huge guilt complex.

  We all got out and unloaded several magnetic grenades from the trunk. I strapped mine into the tool belt Meg had purchased for me, as did Heath, Gilley, and Gopher. Gil also tugged on his magnetic sweatshirt, which he told us he’d spent the previous day “improving.” The garment sagged weirdly on him, and I figured that might be due to the fact that he’d loaded on a few pounds’ worth of extra magnets.