Some Like it Haunted (A Sophie Rhodes Ghostly Romane Book 2) (12 page)

“Myrtle?” Amy asked.

I nodded, wondering what the heck had gotten into Myrtle now. “Looks like her handiwork.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

L
unch went longer than I’d planned. I sped back to the office, arriving ten minutes after Cal’s two o’clock exam had arrived. He had left me a note that he’d started the exam.

I wasn’t surprised when Mr. Haviland called on my cell phone. “We have a problem,” he said. “A big, big problem.”

“I know. I saw the news. Is it Myrtle?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. It isn’t like before. If it’s her, she isn’t showing herself. There is a bone chilling wail that is loudest in the courtyard, though.”

“That’s Myrtle.”

“Can you come? Please say you can come.”

“What is wrong with Myrtle?” Marmi said, appearing beside me.

Thankfully the waiting room was empty so I could answer him. “She’s haunting Spencer House.” I talked back into my phone. “Mr. Haviland, I’m at work, and we don’t have another receptionist.”

“Oh no,” he said. “The president of the historical society is on the other line. I’d better take this. Please, come when you can.”

I hung up with Mr. Haviland, concerned for Myrtle and frustrated that I couldn’t do more. I dialed Tara, hoping she would have more time in her schedule, but she didn’t answer.

“Myrtle wants a proper burial,” Marmi said certainly.

“You think that’s what this latest tantrum is all about?”

“I am most confident that it is.”

I peeked at Cal’s schedule for the rest of the day. They were all vision therapy sessions. Theoretically, he could do fine without me. I would just have to set the phones to voicemail.

I approached him in between patients. “Cal, Myrtle is haunting Spencer House and Mr. Haviland is begging me to come.”

“What? You can’t send Scooby and the gang?”

“I’m serious.”

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

“Hopefully we can calm her down. Do you want to come to my place after work?”

“I have soccer practice tonight.”

I’d forgotten about soccer. “But wait, you said we’d talk. You meant after practice?”

“I meant—”

The door opened and Zack, a talkative ten-year-old patient plopped into a chair. “I’m ready when you are, doc.”

“Go,” Cal said. “We’ll talk later.”

“When?”

He shrugged. “We’ll figure it out.”

Cal’s snide Scooby Doo remark had irked me at first. But when I thought about it, he was just lightening the mood. At least, I hoped that was what he had meant to do.

A news copter was circling the house when I arrived at Spencer House. Police had closed down several of the surrounding streets so I was forced to walk five blocks in my heels.

“The woman has impressive skills,” Marmi said enviously, his eyes fixated on the house as we approached.

A policeman at a barricade didn’t want to allow me in. He must have been new. I didn’t recognize him from my time at the department.

“The night manager asked me to come,” I told him. “Mr. Haviland. Can you let him know I’m here?”

There was no need. Mr. Haviland had spotted me. “Sophie!” He waved me to the side of the house. The policeman let me pass. “You’re braver than I am,” he said. “I’m glad to stay right here, thank you very much.”

Lights flicked on and off as we wound our way through the house. I had to cover my ears to muffle the wailing. Paintings that had been secured to the wall floated freely around the halls. The hands on a grandfather clock spun out of control. Several unhappy ghosts, including Bettina and Paloma, had congregated in the living room, complaining to one another.

“She’s stealing our thunder,” said a young girl. Her curls danced around her head as she bounced a ball.

A decapitated soldier, who held his talking severed head in one hand, complained loudly, “The woman is giving me a headache.”

Mr. Haviland led me to the courtyard, where, sure enough, Myrtle sat cross-legged in the middle of the rose garden. The wailing ended abruptly when she saw us. She smiled, her chubby cheeks dimpling. She gave us her happy little head tilt. “Hey there, friends!”

“Myrtle, what are you doing?”

“I want someone to dig up my bones and give me a proper burial.”

“See, I was correct,” Marmi said. “Of course, I usually am.”

“But what if your bones aren’t there?” I asked her. “That’s a rose garden. Gardeners have been digging there for years and years. If your bones were there, don’t you think someone would have uncovered them already?”

“What is she saying?” Mr. Haviland asked. “She wants us to dig up the rose garden?”

“Do not argue with a ghost,” Marmi said. “If she feels her remains lie beneath that soil, I assure you, they do.”

“That’s right,” Myrtle said, nodding. “Just what he said. Should I keep makin’ a racket or are ya gonna dig me up?”

I raised an eyebrow at Mr. Haviland. “She wants her remains exhumed. It’s a ghost thing,” I explained. “They like their bodies treated with respect. You can understand that, right?”

“The historical society is particular about the rose garden.”

Myrtle opened her mouth wide and let loose. I covered my ears again.

“All right!” Haviland shouted. “All right! I’ll make the call!”

Myrtle shut up. “Tell him thank ya.”

He dialed his cell and spoke in hushed tones, nodding and talking, nodding and talking. “Yes,” he said louder, and throwing me a helpless look. “I know it sounds crazy, but I do believe it is necessary for resuming order.”

“Crazy?” Myrtle yelled. “Crazy? I’ll show them who’s crazy.” She stood and fixed her gaze on a window, shattering it.

“Oh, she just broke a window,” he said into the phone.

Myrtle kept going, window after window, blowing them into a thousand pieces.

“There goes another,” he said, “and another...yes!” he shouted. “Tell her to cease,” he said to me. “They’ve agreed.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

T
wo men dug for over an hour. The rose bushes had some persistent roots. Mr. Haviland and I sat on the fountain nearby, watching and waiting. The deeper they dug, the less confident I was about Myrtle’s ghost sense.

“If they don’t find any bones,” Haviland said, “I can kiss this job goodbye.”

The news copter continued to circle overhead. “But if they do,” I countered, looking up, “it will be on the six o’clock news, and I think you’ll be able to demand a significant raise.”

Up to their chests now in a vast crater, one of the men stopped and shouted. “I think we found something!”

“I told you to have faith,” Marmi said.

Myrtle’s bones made the six o’clock news, and Mr. Haviland had his fifteen minutes of fame.

Detective Sigmund arrived, taking control and declaring it a crime scene.

“They’ll find my mama now,” Myrtle said happily. “And she’ll give my body the funeral it shoulda gotten.”

Marmaduke and I pulled Myrtle aside. “Myrtle,” I said. “I have some bad news. That man there—he’s the detective from the article. He’s the one who reopened your missing person case. He told me this morning that your mother passed away last year.”

Her shoulders slumped, and she crumpled to her knees.

“Chin up,” Marmi told her. “Sophie will be most diligent in seeing you receive the most respectful of burials.”

“Seeing her was a lot to hope for,” Myrtle said. “She woulda been an old woman, I guess.”

“So what do you say? Are you ready to come home with Marmi and me?”

“You promise they’ll take good care of my body now?”

“I promise. Besides, they’re not going to take my word for it that those are your remains. They’ll be running tests. It could be a couple of weeks before they’re ready to release them.”

The sky had grown cloudier as the day wore on. Feeling drops a block from my car, I made a dash. I slammed my door shut, barely avoiding the start of a heavy downpour.

Lightning flashed and thunder rolled. Storms rarely make me smile, but this one did. A quick glance at the clock on my dash confirmed what I’d hoped. Cal would have to cancel practice if he hadn’t already. We could have that talk after all.

It occurred to me on my drive to his place that all of our problems had started the night our two-month anniversary dinner had been interrupted. My solution: plan a new night. Start from the beginning. No ghosts, no mothers, no ex-wives, no spells.

The rain had let up some by the time I reached his street, but lightning still flashed in the dark sky. My fingers tightened around my steering wheel when I saw Rachel’s car parked out front. Cal’s car was in the driveway behind his mother’s. I slowed the car to a near crawl, craning my neck to see through the passenger side.

Cal’s curtains were pulled open and his house was lit up well enough for me to easily see Rachel standing in his living room. His mother sat in a tall wing-back chair that she had given him. A moment later, Cal walked into view with a wine bottle. He filled a glass for Rachel and then one for his mother.

What a cozy scene. Even the fireplace was lit.

“What are you stoppin’ for?” Myrtle asked. “You go in there and fight for your man.”

“Under certain circumstances, I’d agree with you,” I said. “But not these. I’m outmatched in there.”

“You’re never outmatched with love on your side.”

I shook my head. Nope. I didn’t have it in me to deal with those two women after the day I’d had. I motored along. Time to go home.

“I suggest we partake in some activity of distraction,” said Marmaduke. “A movie perhaps. We can watch a movie and you can drown your sorrows by ingesting copious amounts of ice cream. Is that not a common tradition of yours?”

“I love movies!” Myrtle clapped her hands together. “Especially Elvis movies. Can we watch an Elvis movie?”

We didn’t find any Elvis movies on cable, but we did find
Jerry Maguire
with Tom Cruise and Renee Zellweger. A classic romance, although it probably wasn’t the best choice given my state of mind. We watched it anyway while I shoved heaping spoonfuls of double chocolate fudge ice cream into my mouth.

I started crying during the elevator scene when the man tells his deaf girlfriend, “You complete me,” in sign language. I blubbered right through to the end when Jerry, realizing what a fool he has been, repeats the same words to a teary-eyed Renee Zellweger.

“You complete me,” bawled Myrtle. “That’s the most beautiful thing I ever heard a man say to a woman. Even Elvis isn’t that romantic.” She sighed. “You complete me.”

Even Marmaduke was a little emotional. I caught him dabbing his eyes. “I admit, I do miss the electric thrill of courting a lover. I should like to feel the spark again one day. Spontaneously and without the aid of devious witches.”

I clicked off the TV with the remote. “Do you think I complete Cal?” I asked him, wiping tears from my face.

“I am sure of it,” said Marmaduke.

“Then why isn’t he here? With me? Instead of with Rancid Rachel?”

“I still say you should call him,” Myrtle said.

I shook my head. “No. Absolutely not. He was the one who wanted to talk. Look at the time. Why hasn’t he tried to call me? Isn’t he worried about me? No. The ball is in his court.” I sighed, my tears finally drying. Then I thought of Jerry Maguire and started bawling all over again.

I woke up early the next morning to the sound of my cell phone ringing.

Amy wanted the inside story of what had gone down at Spencer House the day before. She’d been on duty in the ER all day and had only heard a few details from Shane, who had received bits and pieces from his buddies who had been called in to keep the peace. She was more anxious than ever to implement her Milwaukee Medium-inspired idea. Not being in the best mood anyway, I wasn’t exactly enthusiastic.

“At least ask Tara, okay?”

My doorbell rang. “I need to go,” I said. “Someone is at my door.”

“Ask her,” Amy pressed.

“I will. I will. Talk to you later.”

I wrapped my robe around myself and cinched it before checking through my peephole. Cal stood in the hallway outside my door, holding a soda cup and a brown paper bag. I let him in, but played it cool.

“Whatcha got there?”

“Bagels and soda.”

“For me?”

“For Marmaduke.”

I laughed. “Good one.”

He handed me the soda and set the bag on the table. Right away I noticed his hands shaking. I felt a pit in my stomach the size of California. This was the talk he wanted to have. Not a good talk from the looks of things.

I stared at the soda cup awkwardly, unable to face the inevitable. “Myrtle was on the news last night.”

He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “And again this morning,” he said, pacing. “It’s been a wild few days. Haunted houses, witches, warlocks.”

“I don’t believe there have been any warlocks,” interrupted Marmaduke, appearing almost on Cal’s heels.

Cal laid into him. “Ten minutes,” he said through gritted teeth. “Give me ten minutes with her alone. Do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” Marmi disappeared in a huff.

I’d been the dumpee enough times in my life to read the signs. The token peace offering. The pacing. The hands in the pockets. The averted eyes. Cal was pulling a textbook maneuver.

The last time it happened with Shane, I promised myself never again. The next time I’d have the upper hand. I’d control the breakup.

Maybe it was Rachel. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was the ghosts and the witches and the warlocks. Who knew? Whatever it was didn’t matter because I was in control this time.

I blurted the words fast so it would be like ripping off a band-aid. “It’s over, Cal. You can take your bagels and leave. I’ve had enough.” I realized that sounded like I’d had enough bagels. Not dramatic enough. I needed this breakup to have force. “I’ve had enough of your crap, I mean.”

He stopped pacing at least. “My crap?”

“I went to your place last night. Rachel was there.”

“Oh.”

“And you know what? It’s not just your crap. It’s mine. I realized when I saw her there that it didn’t bother me.”

“It didn’t?”

“Not really. Not like it should.”

“Wait,” he stuttered. “Are you mad at me or aren’t you?”

I saw where this was going. Nervy move. He’d planned to break up with me, but wanted to play nice so I’d keep working for him. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. Typical man. I picked up the bag of bagels, shoved them into his hands and opened the door. “We’re through
and
I quit. Find yourself a new receptionist.”

Cal hugged the bag like a five-year-old hugging a teddy bear as he crossed the threshold to leave. He turned to say something, but I slammed the door and locked it before I could regret my decision.

“That was...sudden,” Marmaduke said.

“I panicked,” I said. “He was going to break up with me. I could feel it. So I went first.”

Myrtle shook her head and tsked a few times. “I think I woulda waited to hear what he had to say.”

I ran to my room and cried on my bed until my tear ducts dried up.

“What am I going to do, Marmi?” I asked him as I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling.

“I wish I had an answer for you, Sophie. I am afraid this is not my area of expertise. Had I a body, I would gladly offer a hug to soothe your weary heart.”

“You’re so sweet,” I said.

I rolled over and thought of someone who could give me a hug. Someone who gave the best hugs in the world.