A Wild Ghost Chase (A Haunted Guesthouse Mystery) by Copperman E.J

Author:Copperman, E.J. [Copperman, E.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2012-12-31T00:00:00+00:00

6

“We have to be prepared,” I told Maxie and Melissa. “When Antinanco comes back again, we have to know what we’re going to say and,”—I looked directly at Maxie with some emphasis—“how we’re going to say it.”

“What’d I do?” she asked.

“You have a tendency to sound like a tough guy in a gangster movie,” I pointed out. “If you scare the boy, we might lose every chance we have to reunite him with his mother. He could flee and never come back here again.”

“Oh, like I’m so scary.” Maxie has an interesting self-image, which I believe might be at odds with how the world actually sees her.

“Maybe you should let Paul do most of the talking,” Melissa suggested. “He never scares anybody.” She grinned at Maxie. “Not even when he’s trying to.”

Maxie giggled. “You’re right.” She began her rather crude impersonation of me, saying, “Ooh, I’m Paul. I’m a ghost. I’m scaaaaaaaary.” I assure you, I’ve never said such a thing, in my life or otherwise.

“Then we’re agreed, I’ll talk to Antinanco,” I reiterated, ignoring her antics.

Melissa’s phone made a buzzing noise, indicating a text, so she pulled it out of her pocket and read the message. “Grandma says . . . hang on, it’s tough to figure out since she doesn’t like to use vowels. . . . OK, she says she’s on her way and will be here in five minutes.” Melissa looked up at me, which made me realize I was close to the ceiling. Sometimes I lose my sense of perspective, and when people like me don’t pay attention, we can drift in virtually any direction.

“Excellent,” I told Melissa as I brought myself back down to approximately floor level. Alison was downstairs, seeing to her guests and probably setting up one of the “meet-and-greets,” which meant Maxie and I would have to submit ourselves to curious tourists asking the same standard questions. I like to help Alison keep her guesthouse operating, but sometimes the procedures we have to endure are just a little embarrassing. No, I actually can’t get in touch with every single one of your deceased relatives. I’m sorry, but even eternity doesn’t offer that kind of free time. “Once your grandmother makes her report, I think I’ll be able to find a way to contact the boy’s mother.”

“How, if you think he’s been lying to us?” Melissa asked.

I was about to answer when the dumbwaiter to Melissa’s room clanked. That meant someone one floor down was attempting to come up. We all tensed just a little, but then the intercom next to Melissa’s bed buzzed, and through it came Loretta Kerby’s voice.

“It’s Grandma, Liss,” she said. “Can you let me up?” Melissa released the lock mechanism on the dumbwaiter, installed at Alison’s insistence so no one (living) could enter Melissa’s room without her permission (although besides the dumbwaiter, it’s also possible to access the attic via pulldown stairs at the foot of Melissa’s bed). We heard the dumbwaiter gears start to turn and in about half a minute, Loretta was in the room with us.

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