Some Like it Haunted (A Sophie Rhodes Ghostly Romane Book 2) (9 page)

BOOK: Some Like it Haunted (A Sophie Rhodes Ghostly Romane Book 2)
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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I
awoke the next morning before dawn. The sky was still so dark that nocturnal Peter Pan was still spinning on his exercise wheel. The rhythmic squeaking as it spun serenaded me during my morning cereal time.

Since my restless slumber was riddled with steamy dreams about Shane, my first task of the day had to be finding that shady witch’s website and contacting her about turning off the aphrodisia.

The Spencer House tour guide was right—the website was at the top of the list when I searched on unwanted spells in Stephens City. The woman’s name was Lilliana, and she offered quite a variety of services from casting and breaking spells to ridding houses of evil or unwanted spirits. I had half a mind to call the Better Business Bureau. The world needed to be rid of evil hucksters like her. On the other hand, I needed to be rid of my carnal desire for Shane. First things first.

I didn’t give a hoot about the time, I dialed the number on her webpage. The call went straight to voicemail.

“Greetings,” a woman’s voice answered. “I am Lilliana. If you are in need of my services, leave a message, and I will return your call within two days, give or take. If you are from a firm seeking to replace my windows, give me an estimate for a new roof, clean my gutters, lower my cell phone bill, or offer me more channels than my current cable company, hang up immediately before I put a hex on you and your children and your children’s children. Thank you. Have a nice day.”

Her message was effective. Had I been a telemarketer, I’d have moved on to the next number or possibly looked for another line of work altogether. Since I wasn’t trying to sell her something and was desperately in need of her services, I left a message begging her to call back that day if at all possible. No, I wasn’t proud that I had resorted to begging. Sometimes a girl does what a girl has to do.

Dawn had broken and Peter Pan was snoring peacefully in his little hammock when I left for work. I arrived fully intending to attack the stack of patient reports that needed typing. Once my computer was booted though, I decided to try some more research about Myrtle’s death.

Myrtle and Marmaduke sat in the corner making googly eyes at each other and talking googly talk. It went on endlessly, making me googly sick to my stomach. Ordinarily, that would be a bad thing, but at least their sickening dialogue helped diminish my Shane cravings, so I didn’t complain.

Typing Myrtle’s full name into the search engine didn’t provide me with instant results. I fiddled around for a while trying different searches on different sites when I stumbled onto an article about a cold case involving the disappearance of a pregnant girl named Myrtle May Babcock.

“Myrtle, this article is local. It was written two years ago and your mother was still alive then. Your mother moved up here after your father died. She was determined to learn the truth about your disappearance. She finally convinced Detective Ed Sigmund to reopen this missing person case. I know him.” My excitement grew by leaps and bounds. “I worked for the department two years ago. He might have been working on your case when I was there.”

Myrtle pulled away from Marmaduke’s embrace and peeked over my shoulder. “Still alive?”

“Two years ago she was, anyway.”

“Mama.” She shook her head. “She was so disappointed in me. I shamed them so.”

Hearing a key being shoved into the deadbolt on the front door, I looked up from the screen. Cal was trying to push the door open with his foot while juggling his briefcase and a shoe box tucked under one arm. I jumped up to help. I grabbed the box and held the door open.

“You’re early,” I said, happy to see him. “What’s in the box?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replied. “My mom was up early too. When she found out I was having lunch with Dad, she told me to give him some books. They’re in the box. Something to do with self-discovery. She doesn’t think he’s enlightened or, I don’t know, self-discovered, I guess.” He waved a distracted hand and tromped down the hall.

I followed him into his exam room. “I have some good news.”

He set his briefcase on his desk and opened it. “We could certainly use some.”

“I found a recent article about Myrtle. Her body was never found and a local detective reopened her case a couple of years ago.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

I wasn’t feeling his interest though. Cal seemed more engrossed in the contents of his briefcase. I plowed on anyway, hoping to rope him into my fascinating discovery. “His name is—”

“Have you typed Conrad Burton’s report yet? I wanted to spend some time looking it over before I talk with his parents today.”

“Not yet,” I said, deflating.

“Do you have time to do that now?”

Boy, he was all work and no play today. “Sure. Hey, I didn’t get a proper hello.”

He roused himself from sorting papers and apologized, pulling me in for a kiss. “I’m just really tired,” he explained. “Aren’t you?”

“Almost tired enough to try drinking coffee,” I said, laughing. “Do you want me to make you some?”

Too easily, he let his arms drop from around my waist. “No, I’ll do it. Can you type that report for me?”

I dismissed his lack of romantic enthusiasm, chalking it up to exhaustion. In the two months I’d known him, he’d never handled fatigue well. My own eyelids felt like ship anchors were weighing them down. I grabbed a caffeinated soda from the mini fridge and got to work on the file.

Soon after I got the completed report to Cal, our first patient of the day arrived, and the phones started to ring. Suddenly I didn’t have time to think about ghosts.

I did manage to squeeze in a text to Amy to see how she was doing. She texted back that she was fine, but that Shane was acting strangely. Since she didn’t accuse me of trying to steal her fiancé back, I felt comfortable that he hadn’t told her about the spell.

Twenty minutes before lunch, a silver-haired version of Cal walked in the door.

I stood and offered my hand. “You must be Cal’s father.”

His crooked smile was identical to Cal’s. “Call me Tom. And I’ll take a stab in the dark: you’re the smart and beautiful Sophie.” He shook my hand firmly.

Such a nice man. And as handsome as his son. Why would Dianne want to leave him? “Cal is still with a patient. Can I get you some coffee or water? Soda maybe?”

He raised his hands, fending off my offers. “Nothing for me. I’ll just sit here and wait. Don’t want to get in the way of your work.”

My cell phone rang on the desk beside me.

“See, people are calling for you already,” he laughed.

I recognized the phone number right away. The grifter, Lilliana. I wasn’t about to have this conversation in front of Cal’s father. I excused myself and slipped into the bathroom.

“Hello,” I answered with a whisper.

“Ciao, miss,” she said with a smooth Italian accent. “I have received this message from you. You are Sophia Rhodes, no?”

“Sophie,” I corrected her.

“Good. Bene. Sophia, you are needing me to reverse a spell?”

“That’s right. A lust spell.”

“You are very sure that this is a witch’s spell, not just a true attraction for which you do not want to take the responsibility?”

“Lady,” I said, cutting to the chase, “I see ghosts, okay? And I saw your dead relatives at Spencer House two days ago. They chanted a few words after I inhaled a potion from a bottle and now, instead of wanting to kill my cheating ex-boyfriend, all I want to do is rip the clothes off his body.”

“The fee is two hundred dollars,” she said. “Bring cash.”

I hung up. “Extortionist,” I muttered. But at least I had an appointment time set.

“Sophie?” Cal knocked on the door. “Are you in there?”

“Uh, yeah.” I poked my head out and winked. “Tonight at six forty-five.” I lowered my voice to a thin whisper. “Spell reversal.”

He whispered back. “My dad is here.”

“I know.” I tried to leave the bathroom with my dignity intact. It must have looked really silly taking a phone call in there. “We met.”

Tom stood and clapped his hands. “Sophie, I’d invite you to lunch, but we’ve got some things to discuss.”

“No, no,” I said. “I understand. Trust me, I understand.” I gave Cal a kiss.

On their way out, I reminded Cal that his next appointment was at three-thirty. They waved and then I was alone. Even Marmaduke and Myrtle had vanished.

A few minutes of solitude sounded perfect. I locked the door, set the phones to go to voicemail, plunked my lunch on the desk, and dialed Shane with the good news.

“I’m on duty then,” he said.

“Shane, you have to come. I’m not sure she can reverse it on just one of us. This spell is going to start affecting your relationship with Amy. It’s already driving a wedge between Cal and me.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I think Amy is suspicious. I’ll see what I can do. What time again?”

“Six forty-five tonight. Thirteen-thirteen Beacon Heights Place.”

While I had him on the phone I asked him to see if he could look into the reopening of Myrtle’s disappearance in 1958. I told him about the article and that Sigmund was working the cold case. He said he’d look into it.

Just talking to Shane reignited the flames of my sexual appetite for him. I munched into my sandwich, frustrated. Boy, Lilliana had better come through or Shane might end up hauling me to the big house for her attempted murder. In need of squelching the urges, I called on Marmaduke and Myrtle.

They materialized, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, still engaged in their lovey dovey tête-à-tête.

Marmaduke looked deeply into Myrtle’s eyes, reciting a poem. “She walks in beauty, like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes.”

“Oh, Sugar Bear,” Myrtle cooed. “I ain’t ever had no one recite poetry to me before.”

“Nothing is too good for my sweet little plum dumpling.”

There, that sort of thing could kill just about any fire. Now hopefully they would keep it up until closing time.

Unfortunately, their syrupy pillow talk killed my appetite for food as well. I set my lunch aside and delved into office work for the next hour.

I’d just pulled patient files for the next day when a moan from Marmi set my teeth on edge.

“Okay,” I said, “I don’t mind the poetry and the Sugar Bears and Myrtle Blossoms, but you guys can’t be doing that other stuff around here. It’s just plain wrong.”

“That wasn’t a moan of pleasure,” Marmi said, his eyes fixed on the front door. “That was an outcry of revulsion. It is the villainess returned.”

Villainess. Coming from Marmaduke, it could mean only one person.

Rachel.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

W
hen Rachel pushed on the door and it didn’t budge, I remembered that I had forgotten to unlock it after lunch. She’d already spied me through the glass panes of the office door, but I ignored her knock anyway, redirecting my attention back to the patient files. She knocked again, then jiggled the door handle. Her third knock nearly took the door off its hinges. Since it seemed I wasn’t going to succeed at ignoring her, I rose ever so slowly and flipped the lock.

She stumbled in, holding a hand over one eye, and groping her way with the other. “I need to see Cal,” she said. “Can he squeeze me into his schedule?”

I wanted to squeeze her into something alright. A black hole came to mind.

“He isn’t here right now. Is there a problem?”

She slid into a chair keeping her head down and eye covered. “Yes there’s a problem. Something flew into my eye, and I’m in a lot of pain.”

“Maybe you should go to an emergency room,” I suggested. “You might get seen quicker. By someone who isn’t your ex-husband.”

“Yes, well, since he is my ex-husband, he has my most recent files.”

Cal pushed the door open. “Rachel?”

“Cal,” she said, becoming suddenly and conveniently weepy, “it hurts something awful. Can you get it out?”

She stood and wobbled. Forever the nice guy, Cal caught her. “Is it your eye?”

She nodded and more tears flowed. “I was just around the corner from here. A wind whipped up. There were leaves and dust. Something flew in there, I’m sure.”

He guided her down the hallway. “Sophie,” he said, “pull her file, would you?”

“Where’s your dad?” I asked.

“He left. Wanted to get home before dark.” His exam door clicked shut.

“That insidious harpy,” Marmaduke huffed, vanishing before I could agree.

I found Rachel’s file and stomped down the hallway rapping once hard on the door, then letting myself in. “Here you go.”

Cal inspected Rachel’s eye way too closely with his ophthalmoscope, but that wasn’t the source of my immediate concern.

“Marmaduke!” I shouted without thinking.

Cal looked up in time to see Marmaduke floating a coffee mug over Rachel’s head. Knowing Cal’s habits, that cup was still at least half full of cold morning brew. I would have been thrilled to see Rachel doused, but Cal and his equipment would have become drenched as well.

“What’s she yelling about?” Rachel asked.

Cal snatched the cup mid-air. “Sophie. Handle this please.”

Marmaduke seemed confused. “You don’t want me to scare her off?”

“No, I don’t,” snipped Cal.

“No, you don’t what?” Rachel asked.

“No, I don’t know what she was yelling about.” Cal snatched the file from my hands and waved Marmi and me away.

I left, leaving the door slightly ajar, but wouldn’t you know Cal clicked it shut again. I sat, fuming at my seat up front. When I heard laughter make its way through the closed door, I began to seethe.

“This is a most unsettling development,” Marmaduke complained. “What sort of merriment could he possibly be enjoying with that fiend?”

Myrtle stroked his head. “Ah now, my little caramel apple tart, don’t fret. Your Myrtle Bug is here for you.”

“Yes, yes. Thank you. The torment is terrible to bear. Hold me. Hold me.”

While Myrtle consoled Marmi, I grumbled and fidgeted and stewed in my chair for over thirty minutes. Cal’s three-thirty patient arrived, so I decided to put an end to the questionable emergency visit. Rather than buzz him from the front phone, I knocked on his exam room door.

“Yes?” Cal called out on a chuckle.

Oh, I was going to kill him. I opened the door and poked my head in. Rachel rested far too comfortably in the exam chair, her legs crossed, and her posture tilted seductively into Cal, who leaned casually on his exam desk, an easy smile on his face.

“Your next patient is ready,” I said.

Cal straightened and checked the clock on the wall. “Oh right.” He collected her file and handed it to me. “No charge.”

Rachel put her hand on his. “Thank you, Cal.”

“You got the boulder out of her eye? Must have required some major surgery for how long it took.” The sarcasm rolled right out. I sort of regretted it, but then, not so much.

Rachel laughed. Again. “It must have washed out when I started crying,” she said.

Yeah. It must have. I was ready to grab that cup of coffee and dump it on her head myself. Instead, I laughed too. “Funny how that happens sometimes.”

The phone rang, requiring my attention. I didn’t get a chance the rest of the day to pull him aside and ask what the laughing and jocularity was all about. I sensed that he purposely kept busy to avoid talking.

At ten minutes after six I sat drumming my fingers on the desk. He still hadn’t brought his last patient out for me to bill, and I was going to be late for my appointment with Lilliana.

Screw it, I decided. He knew how to bill patients. I scribbled a note, left it on the keyboard, and locked the door behind me.

I had a witch to see.

BOOK: Some Like it Haunted (A Sophie Rhodes Ghostly Romane Book 2)
5.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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