Southern Charm by Stuart Jaffe

Author:Stuart Jaffe [Jaffe, Stuart]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, Horror, Occult, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy, Paranormal & Urban, Mystery, Magic, winston salem, Paranormal, North Carolina, korners folly, Ghosts
Amazon: B0098L3X10
Publisher: Stuart Jaffe
Published: 2012-09-08T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Max slammed open his office door, cracking the glass right across the gold-painted 319, and headed straight for the bookshelf. He grabbed the first book he could reach, opened it, found only pages, and tossed it aside. Another book. Another. And another.

Drummond entered from the ceiling and said, "Um, Max? You feeling okay?"

"What does it look like?" He tilted three books from the shelf and watched them fall to the floor.

"Take it easy. Those are my books."

"You got a gun here and I want it."

"I don't have a gun."

Max grabbed the well-used book that hid Drummond's whiskey bottle. "You got this. And I don't believe at all that you ever went around without a gun when you were alive. So, where is it?"

"Calm down."

"Get me the fucking gun!"

"I swear I don't have one."

Max scanned the room until his eyes rested on the floor. "Of course," he said, and stomped on the floorboards. "Which one is it? Tell me."

"I don't—"

"Damn it!" Max said, hammering his desk with his fist. "They've got Sandra. You understand that? That witch took her from me. So, you tell me where that gun is. I've got to get her back."

Despite the pain of corporeal contact, Drummond concentrated enough to push a chair closer to Max. "Tell me what happened."

Max stared at the chair, his hands itching to rip up the floor, but finally lowered his head with a sigh. He pulled the whiskey from the book and drank. Then he told everything as best as he could remember. Twice he had to stop for another swig. He hoped Drummond would cut him off and reveal the location of a gun, but the ghost only listened until the telling finished.

"This is bad," Drummond said.

"Now you know. Please, where's the gun?"

"What do you think you're going to do? Go blazing into Hull family headquarters and demand Sandra back or you'll start shooting?"

Sheepish, Max said, "Something like that."

"No." The timbre of Drummond's voice caught Max's attention — filled with sorrow and shock. Drummond closed in on Max, his body lacking the usual grace of a ghost and instead moving like he felt every year since his death attacking each muscle. He was worried. That worried Max more. "I've dealt with things like this before," Drummond said. "And we've both dealt with Hull. You know you can't just go running in there. You'll only get her killed and probably yourself, too."

"I can't just sit here."

"You need to get control of yourself so we can plan. Now, you said they want you to find the painting, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, we have found it. Let's see if our seller wrote back to Sandra. If we're lucky, we can get that painting fast, and then we'll have something of value to them."

An e-mail awaited them on Sandra's computer (Max felt weird using her property as if he was already stepping toward the acknowledgement that she might no longer need such things) — the seller wanted to do the transaction by mail. Max wrote back that the painting was meant as a gift, so he needed it right away.

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