Spookygirl - Paranormal Investigator (24 page)

Then Dad told Mom about what had gone on after her accident: the suspicion cast upon him, Sabrina Brightstar’s accusations. Mom was horrified. “I have half a mind to go haunt that old bat,” Mom growled. “See if I can’t mess with her precious aura.”

And she gave Dad a hard time for keeping me on a string between him and Aunt Thelma for so long. “You know how I’ve always felt about that woman. She never liked me, and she felt the same way about Violet.”

“What else could I do?” Dad pleaded. “I was working and going to school at the same time, and then I was
apprenticing and working here. I couldn’t do it all on my own; Violet needed more than I could give her.”

“She needed her dad,” Mom said softly. “She needed to be assured that having these abilities didn’t mean there was anything wrong with her. I’m sure Thelma provided just the opposite.” She glanced at me for confirmation.

I nodded. “I used to get in trouble if I said anything about ghosts. I got tired of being grounded and not being allowed to watch TV, so I started hiding it. Dad, I really wanted to talk to you about it. I wanted you to tell me some of what you’d learned from Mom. But you never wanted to discuss it, so all I had to go on were the things I remembered Mom telling me when I was little.”

“And I softened those details so much,” Mom said to me. “I’m so sorry for that. I didn’t want you to be scared of the things you saw and sensed when you were young. Most ghosts really are harmless, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful. I always assumed I’d have plenty of time to clarify.”

“You do now,” Dad said. “That is…unless you have to…” He frowned, hesitant to acknowledge the possibility that she might move on.

“Violet needs me, and so do you,” she told him. “And I need both of you. I’m not going anywhere. However…” She glanced around, her expression skeptical. “This won’t
do.” She’d always had an eye for organization and design; she’d been the only thing standing between Dad and me and total clutter, and without her around, chaos reigned supreme. “I certainly don’t mind the funeral home—far be it from me to have a prejudice against dead people—but this apartment is unacceptable. We’ll need a house. A real house.”

“I don’t know what we can afford,” Dad said, worried. “Except for Violet’s college fund, I put our savings into my education and the business. I’m doing well, but I don’t think I can justify a large mortgage yet, not when we already have this place.”

Mom smirked. “You won’t like this idea.”

Dad looked even more worried.

“I happen to know of a very nice house whose present owners are highly motivated to sell. They think it’s haunted, of all things. I think they’d entertain just about any offer. The place needs some work, but with a little time and effort, it’d be a fine home and a good long-term investment.”

Dad stared at her. “You don’t mean the Logan Street property. You can’t.”

Mom shrugged. “Riley Island’s only ten miles away. It wouldn’t be much of a commute. Maybe you could even open a branch there eventually. And I believe it’s in the same school zone, so Violet wouldn’t need to change schools again.”

“How could you expect me—us—to live there?” Dad asked, indicating himself and me. “To live in the house where you died?” He looked stricken at the thought. I didn’t blame him for freaking out a little. Mom’s suggestion was making me kind of nervous, too.

“Because I’d be there with you,” she said. “We’d be together. It’s a beautiful house, Peter. I should know. I was stuck there for seven years.”

“So why would you want to go back?” I asked.

“It’s changed now,” she said. “Abigail and the others are gone. It’s clean and empty and waiting, and we could make it into a real home.”

“I don’t know if I could ever think of it as anything other than the place where you died,” Dad said, sounding slightly desperate.

“Really, Peter. You make that sound so
final
.” Mom shook her head. “I’m back, aren’t I? You were always the practical one. It’s just a house.” She looked back at me. “Don’t you worry. I’ll convince him. Persuading your father was always one of my specialties.”

“What about the psychic echoes?” I asked. “There’ve got to be some strong ones.”

“We’ll cleanse the house, Violet. You and me. We’ll get rid of all that. A few old echoes can’t stand up to the new life we can give it.” She looked at Dad. “Peter, please consider it. I heard the owners talking the last time they
visited. Abigail started pestering them, and they were terrified. They can’t wait to get rid of it.”

“I don’t know,” he said, still sounding disturbed.

Mom continued. “Then you could rent the apartment to an apprentice or an assistant. It looks like you’re busy enough to need some help.”

Dad scratched his head. “I have been meaning to look for someone. And…I suppose I could look into expanding on Riley Island. Maybe have a little office and showroom there.”

Mom nodded as if the decision was made and the contracts were already signed. “We’ll tour the Logan Street house tomorrow.”

I looked out the window. The sky was a hazy gray with a stripe of rose near the horizon.

“It’s already tomorrow.”

A week later, Dad signed the last of the contracts on the Logan Street house. The owners agreed to an insanely low offer, and the closing was to take place almost immediately. The house would be ours before the new year. The owners were so glad to be rid of the property, they even allowed us to start fixing up the place while we waited for everything to be finalized. Mom was delighted; she was already making plans and merrily bossing us around the hardware store while we bought supplies for the most pressing repairs. Dad was still pretty weirded out by the whole thing, but he was slowly getting used to the idea.

I thought I’d feel really weird about the house, too, but it seemed completely different in the daylight, especially now that it was ghost-free (except for Mom, of course). It felt welcoming and open, as though it had been waiting a long time for the right residents. One of the first things I
did was to cleanse the place with sage smudge sticks, under Mom’s guidance. After that, I never noticed any creepy echoes, and it really did feel like our home.

It felt so natural having Mom back, even if she wasn’t exactly your typical mom anymore. Moving in to the place responsible for a family member’s death wasn’t typical, either…but we weren’t exactly a typical family, now were we?

Mom was right about the school zones, too—I was relieved that I could still go to Palmetto High after the move. I had friends now, and I didn’t want to leave them. If I had to put up with occasional sneers from the void and being called “Spookygirl” now and then, I could deal. I even kind of liked it. It was sort of fun knowing stupid people were scared of me.

As for the rest of the school, it was as haunted as ever. I’d hoped that sending Delores on the warpath would rid me of grumpy old Henry. Naturally, he’d refused to budge, which left me with two ghosts aimlessly wandering the halls instead of just one. But what at first seemed like a pain in the butt turned out to be the perfect way to honor Beth and Brenda’s request. I now had Delores monitoring things in the girls’ locker room, and Henry watching over the boys’. Anything they saw would be reported to me, and I’d report it to Coach Frucile. Henry was happy to
be useful again, since he wasn’t much good with a mop anymore. Plus, it gave Delores an excuse to be gossipy and nosy, which kept her out of Henry’s unkempt hair.

I still spent some afternoons helping Dad at the funeral home, but on other days I took the Riley Island bus to our new house instead. Since Mom wasn’t much use with a hammer or paintbrush, I did what I could under her supervision.

Dad gave word to a couple of his old professors that he was looking for an apprentice or assistant, and they recommended some of their interested students. The apartment was a big draw for the younger, unattached candidates. Dad scheduled a bunch of interviews for January, and he was hopeful he’d find someone great for the job.

In fact, life would’ve been just about perfect if it weren’t for the fact that Dad refused to consider resurrecting Palmetto Paranormal. He wouldn’t even listen to my many, many arguments in favor of it, especially after I’d come so close to getting maimed or mangled or worse the night I found Mom. She promised to work on him, though, and I knew she’d succeed eventually. In the meantime, I fully intended to sneak in a little more unsupervised practice.

Either way, it was awesome having Mom around again. On the days I spent helping with home repairs,
I’d get off the bus and walk down to our house on Logan Street, and she’d be there waiting for me.

One afternoon just before winter break, I arrived home to a delighted screech and a burst of freezing wind that nearly knocked me over. Now that Mom was back, Buster seemed even more excitable than ever.

Mom appeared at the bottom of the stairs, shaking her head.

“Buster!” she scolded. “Don’t make me use the crate.” She smiled at me. “How was school, sweetie?”

“It was fine. Hey, I got an A on my midterm English essay.”

Okay, so I’d more than gotten an A. My essay had made Ms. Geller weep in front of the whole class. Not that I’m bragging or anything, but you know…

I didn’t get the chance to tell Mom the details, though, because just then a car horn beeped in the driveway. I looked out and saw Tim and Isobel beckoning to me from Isobel’s car. I told Mom I’d be out for a while, then grabbed my bag, ran out, and jumped in the backseat.

They wouldn’t tell me what was going on until we got to Isobel’s place and went up to her room. Then they each handed me a small box wrapped in purple paper with shiny black ribbons. The gift tags had tiny skulls wearing Santa hats—I recognized Isobel’s drawing style immediately.

“You guys!” I said, feeling sheepish. “I haven’t gotten
around to buying your presents yet.” Who had time for Christmas shopping in between midterms and death spackle and repainting the front porch?

“Like we care? Open mine first,” Tim said.

I did as instructed. Inside the box was an odd little pendant on a purple cord. The pendant looked like a tiny mishmash of silver wire; Tim snatched it back and asked if I had my mom’s black tourmaline with me.

“Of course.” I pulled it from my pocket. “I always have it.”

“And now it’ll be easier to keep it with you.” He took the stone and pressed it into the pendant; the wire wrapped around it, caging it perfectly. “I used some of my chain-mail stuff to make this.”

“Omigod!” I grabbed it back and examined it, then slipped the cord over my head. It was so cool. Wearing the tourmaline around my neck made it feel even closer and more precious.

“Now mine!” Isobel said, grinning more widely than any self-respecting Queen of the Goths should ever grin.

I tore into her present. Inside the wrapping was a rectangular cardboard box just a few inches wide, and inside the box were…business cards.

The most badass business cards I’d ever seen.

They were purple, of course, with a purple-and-black striped border, a few striking white accents, and a tiny bat
logo. R
ILEY
I
SLAND
P
ARANORMAL
was spelled out in a sophisticated black font across the top. Below that it said V
IOLET
A
DDISON
—L
EAD
P
ARANORMAL
I
NVESTIGATOR
.

Nice
.

“I only got a few printed,” Isobel said, “so we can change whatever you want. We can change the whole design. After you came up with the team name last week, I just couldn’t resist designing a mock-up for you.”

I blinked a few times, forcing back the tears pricking my eyes at the memory of Mom’s plain white Palmetto Paranormal business card. This was exactly what I’d wanted.

“It’s perfect. It’s really perfect.”

“Really? Awesome.” Isobel beamed.

Riley Island Paranormal. RIP. Seriously, could it get any better?

“I got some made for Tim and me as well,” Isobel said. “We’re just investigators, though. You’re the leader.”

I wasn’t sure how my parents would feel about that, but I liked it. Isobel went into a whole speech after that, about how she’d done other versions of the logo and could put together a website as soon as we were officially up and running. I only half heard her; I was too busy staring at the card. It felt so right, and it looked so good.

“Now all we need are some ghosts to investigate,”
Isobel said when she was done pitching her various plans for RIP. “Has your dad agreed to supervise the team yet?”

“No, but I’m sure he’ll change his mind soon.”

“In the meantime,” Tim said, pulling some papers from his backpack, “I found a few reports online of supposed Riley Island hauntings. Nothing big, just some silly stuff—a pet store downtown that the owner says is haunted by the ghost of his prize bulldog, and a bakery where the late pastry chef still shows up at three every morning and turns on the ovens. Stuff like that. But I thought maybe…”

“Hey, we gotta start somewhere, right?”

I thought of Mama Chen’s back in Palmetto Crossing; there were probably plenty of other places like that in the surrounding towns as well. We could start small, get some practice, and then move on to more interesting cases once Dad realized this was happening with or without his approval.

Riley Island Paranormal was officially in business. After all, we had business cards. We had equipment. We were a team. What else did we need?