A Match Made in Hell by Terri Garey

Author:Terri Garey [Garey, Terri]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Horror & Ghost Stories
ISBN: 978-0-06-113616-0
Publisher: Avon Books
Published: 2008-05-22T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

“May I help you?”

The man behind the counter at the Blue Dahlia was shaped like an egg, bottom heavy and bald. The only hair on his head were his eyebrows. He smiled, peering at us through thick, horn-rimmed glasses.

“We’re looking for Leonard Ledbetter,” Kelly said.

The old man leaned forward, resting both hands on the counter. “I’m Leonard Ledbetter. Do you have something on order?”

I glanced around at the showy bouquets of roses, lilies, and hydrangeas, admiring the display. “I wish I did. These arrangements are gorgeous.” The Blue Dahlia was an elegant little store, and smelled as great as it looked. Striped damask wallpaper in blue and gold, flowers and greenery everywhere, a big bowl of magnolia potpourri right by the front door. The shabby chic armoires were painted white and then “blued”—a nice touch.

I glanced at Joe and teased, “I like flowers, by the way.”

“Point taken,” he murmured, eyes twinkling with a smile.

The house had a warm, cozy feel—it sure didn’t look haunted, inside or out. It was a white clapboard Victorian with gingerbread trim, cheerful with flowers, only a discreet blue and white sign on one end of the porch to indicate it was anything other than a private home.

“I’m Kelly Charon, Mr. Ledbetter,” Kelly said. “This is my sister, Nicki Styx, and our friend, Joe Bascombe.”

“Oh my.” Leonard looked stricken. “Oh my goodness me.”

“We spoke on the phone, remember?” Kelly did the talking while I admired an exotic orchid, bright orange with a pale yellow center. “We’ve come to see Bijou.”

No reply. I looked up to see that Leonard had gone white as a sheet, and for a moment I wondered if he was about to stroke out on us.

Talk about making an entrance. I’m sorry, Grandma Bijou, but we’ve killed your store manager.

“Are… are you all right, Mr. Ledbetter?” Apparently, Joe was concerned about the old man, too.

“Leonard,” he gasped. “Call me Leonard.” The man looked like a “Leonard”—his pants were pulled up so high his belt buckle nearly met his bow tie. All he needed was an inch of white socks and a pocket protector.

“It’s you,” he said. He was staring at Kelly, though his eyes kept flitting to me. “Her daughters. Here, at the Blue Dahlia.” Leonard gave a little cry—of grief, of surprise, I wasn’t sure—and stumbled back a few steps. His generous bottom hit the cushions of an overstuffed chair with a whoof.

“Hey, take it easy,” Joe said, moving around the counter. Kelly and I started forward, but Leonard gave us a weak smile, waving away our concern.

“I’m fine, really. Just a little low blood sugar, I expect.” He stared, eyes going back and forth between Kelly and me. “You two girls may be twins, but you look so different. Took me by surprise.”

The old man won points for that comment. I never wanted to be part of a matched set.

“Oh, you’re both so pretty. So much like your mama.” Leonard’s smile faded. Even his bow tie seemed to wilt a little.

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