Ghost of a Chance by Flo Fitzpatrick

Author:Flo Fitzpatrick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2011-03-28T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

“Who’s there? What’s going on? Who’s hiding under there?”

At the sound of the voice, I jumped and knocked my head on the edge of the couch, then screamed, “What the hell are you doing sneaking up on me like that? After everything that’s happened here in the last two weeks! Are you looney?”

“Kiely?”

“Yes! Kiely. The dancer with the headache and probably a large bump on my forehead thanks to you.”

“I saw a body on the floor under the sofa and naturally wanted to know who was up here after hours.”

“Well, now you do. I should ask you the same thing. What brings you to Kismet this late in the evening?”

Rafe sat down on the floor next to me and peered at my forehead. “You’re not bleeding. That’s good.”

“Thanks for the concern. So—why are you snooping around scaring me into probably premature white hair?”

“Same as you. I’m curious as to what started that fire earlier. I’d like to know if something in the wiring is about to short out and cause the whole theater to go up in flames.”

“Mmm.”

Rafe looked sharply at me.

“What does that mean? Do you know something you’re not telling?”

I did, but he’d never believe me. The popcorn pointed directly to my ghost. A ghost who, as far as I knew, had no good reason to play arsonist in his off-hours. I shook my head and avoided Rafe’s question.

“I’m not looking for faulty electrics. I wouldn’t know one if it reached out and bit me. To be honest, I wanted another look at that stuff from the original Bad Business. Something kept nagging at me to come up and poke around. I thought perhaps some of the pieces from the old show might have been kicked under the sofa through the years. And since the romantically inclined who use the sofa aren’t exactly interested in historical research, they stay on the top, so to speak. I was trying to check underneath!”

“So?”

My head hurt and I didn’t feel like being social.

“So, nothing. I’d barely gotten started in this corner when Rafe, the resident snoop, barged in on me.”

“I told you I wasn’t snooping; just trying to make sure things stay safe around here. I got a bit too close to those flames today to be nonchalant about the theater burning down. Not to mention, this might not be the safest place to be right now, even without flames bursting forth.”

“So why isn’t our tech director or stage manager or even Lida Rose taking on this chore? How did you get elected? Are you now the resident hero?”

His brows were set. I knew I was pushing, but I really wanted an explanation for Rafe’s odd habit of diving headfirst (literally) into everything in the theater.

“None of the people you’ve mentioned feel there’s a problem. They think the fire was a fluke. I do not agree. Is that clear enough for you? As to that, your explanation for whatever lured you to the prop room after hours to hunt for buried treasure or first folios seems a trifle thin as to a sane reason for you being here, too.

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