Scandalous Spirits by Beth Ciotta

Author:Beth Ciotta
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BelleBooks Inc.
Published: 2014-03-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

“TELL ME AGAIN why we’re not moving into a hotel?” Rufus looked miserable as he nursed his bowl of bland oatmeal.

“Because I refuse to be railroaded out of my own home by relatives who are too stupid to know they’re dead.” The last half-hour played over in Marcus’ head like a foreign movie with fuzzy subtitles. Daisy’s list of possible reasons for why his grandfather, great aunt, and great uncle were haunting Laguna Vista had been lengthy, and murky at best. Ticking them off to better understand them, he recited, “Either they don’t know they’re dead, know they’re dead but are confused as to where they are and why they don’t feel like they used to, know they’re dead but are unwilling to leave the physical plane, are in shock and reliving over and over again the events leading up to their untimely deaths, or are bound to the physical plane because they’re too emotionally attached to feelings of guilt or revenge to ‘let go.’”

“It’s as confusing coming from you as it was from Daisy. I wish she’d hurry down with those research books so we can hurry the hell up and de-ghost this place.” He held up his spoon with one hand, his head with the other. “One day, Marc. I’ll give it one day. Then I’m moving into a hotel with or without you.”

“I probably left out a couple of possibilities,” Marcus rambled on, “but my brain is in no condition to recall. That’s what I get for mixing Bloody Marys, Jack Daniels, and tequila.”

Rufus turned a whiter shade of pale. “Marc, please.”

“Whichever reason, they all strike me as selfish.” Marcus refilled his coffee mug to the brim then bit off a corner of dry toast. “Which is in perfect keeping with my grandfather.”

Oatmeal dripped off Rufus’ spoon before he could get it to his mouth. Frowning, he said, “You sound as though you hate him. You never even knew him.”

“I know of him. That’s enough.”

“Let’s get back to something you said a few seconds ago. You said, my home.”

“What?”

“I refuse to be railroaded out of my own home, that’s what you said. Since when did you start thinking of Laguna Vista as your home?”

Marcus set down his toast. “What are you talking about? It’s always been my home. I inherited it. I own it. Thus it is mine. My house.”

“There’s a big difference between a house and a home. A piece of property and a place where you hang your hat.”

“I don’t own any hats.”

Rufus leveled him with a derisive look. “You know what I mean. Something’s happening to you, Marc. I’m used to seeing you poring over charts and reports.”

“I’m working at night, before I go to bed.”

“Back-to-back appointments...”

“Yesterday I met with a tax assessor, the county clerk, an electrician, and a plumber.”

“You’re usually on the cell phone twice an hour fleshing out one deal or another. If Kelly has called here three times—”

“I asked Ms. Bishop to hold my calls until Monday.”

“You’re kidding.”

“It’s the weekend.

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