Boo Who (35 page)

“This isn’t good,” Martin whispered.

Wolfe pulled the key out of his pocket. “Miss Peeple? We found your key. Now we want to know why we have it and what it belongs to.”

The only reply was the constant beep of the heart monitor. Martin was all but huddled behind him.

He sighed and turned to face Martin. “Now what?”

“Maybe you can help me with something.”

“What?”

“I found a hidden map. It shows five shacks up in the foothills. I’ve visited all the shacks, but there doesn’t seem to be much up there. Maybe tomorrow we can go up there together and you can take a look around. See if you can find anything.”

“Sure. After work.”

The male nurse approached them as they left the room. Martin said, “If she wakes up, please call this number,” and handed him a card.

CHAPTER 28

O
LIVER COULD HARDLY SLEEP
that night.

He’d warmed some milk, sat up and read, even sipped some Nyquil, but to no avail. Rest would not come. All he could see was the Kentucky ghost’s startled eyes staring back at him.

In the morning, he rose so early he decided to go eat a big breakfast at The Mansion. But the food tasted like cardboard. So he left most of it and went to work. He was sitting at his desk when he heard someone at his door. A knock came, and then another knock. Oliver swallowed and in a strained voice said, “Come in?”

The door opened, and a middle-aged, suave-looking guy peeked his head around. “Was that a question?”

“No, please, come in.” Oliver fumbled the pen in his hand and tried to stand up, banging his knees on his desk. Wincing in pain, he did manage to shake the man’s hand.

“Are you Oliver?”

“Yes. Oliver Stepaphanolopolis.”

“Goodness. Going to need a flashcard for that one.”

Oliver tried to politely smile. “Just call me Oliver.”

“I’m Dr. Hass.”

“Are you looking for a new or used car?”

“No. The reason I’m here, Oliver,” he said, going over to the door and quietly shutting it, “is of a private nature.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. First of all, I have to know, are you the kind of person who can keep a secret?”

“Well, I’m certainly the kind of person who is always willing to hear one.” Oliver offered a bashful grin. The doctor smiled mildly. “Um, anyway, I guess so. But if you’re going to tell me you murdered somebody, I’d have to turn you in to the police. So don’t confess anything.”

Dr. Hass sat down in a chair across from Oliver, who also sat down. “It’s nothing of that sort. But I have to know if I can trust you.”

“I’m not sure if you can. I don’t know why you’re here, and quite frankly, you’re making me feel kind of eerie.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to do that,” the doctor said with a warm wink. “Okay, I’ll tell you why I’m here. I’m sure you’ve noticed a group of people around town that don’t belong.”

Oliver jumped out of his chair with a yelp. “So it’s true! I caught one! Those creepy little twits are wandering around our town, ready to take it over, or do whatever they’re going to do! So I caught one! Scared it, too, if you want to know the truth. He screamed like a girl, and I don’t think I’ll ever see him around these parts again, whatever kind of ‘him’ he is.” Oliver blinked away the frightful scene and looked at the doctor.

“Oliver, I know. That’s why I’m here.”

“It is?”

“I need somebody brave enough to catch them and bring them to me.”

Oliver tore off one fingernail after another with his teeth, barely pausing to comment. “Brave enough. I wouldn’t exactly call myself brave.”

“Oh, I think what you did was incredibly brave, Oliver.”

“How do you know about that?” Oliver felt his skin crawl.

“It’s not important how, but just know, I have faith that you’re the right man for the job.”

“I’d like a little more information about what you plan to do with these … these … whatever they are.”

“A little more information? How does a hundred and fifty dollars sound? For each one you bring in?”

Perspiration collected over his brow line. “Are you trying to buy my silence?”

“Just your trust.”

“Well, I’ll take one twenty-five if I can tell my friend Martin.”

“Martin. Hmm. The only other person who knows about the shed.’”

Oliver gasped. “Are you psychic?”

“No, no. But I do know Martin. Have met him once. Seems to be an admirable fellow. Sure, why not. But only you two. And you must bring them to me discreetly. Without harming them.” He handed Oliver a card. “That is my address. Martin knows the place.”

“How do you know Martin?”

“Oliver, I’m a counselor of sorts.”

“You are?”

“Yes. Martin is not a patient, but I have met him.”

“So what does a psychologist want with a bunch of ghosts?”

“Are you certain they’re ghosts?”

“I’m not sure what they are!” Oliver said, pounding his fist on his desk. “All I know is that I want them out of my town!” Oliver shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m normally a pretty docile man. I’ve been surprising myself lately, though. Over the past few months I’ve done everything from scheming to keep two lovers apart to asking the woman of my dreams to marry me.” He looked at Dr. Hass. “I could’ve probably used a shrink … I mean head doctor … a few months back.”

Dr. Hass said, “You want these people out of your town?”

“Yes.”

“I can guarantee that if you’ll help me.”

“You’re not going to do anything … illegal, are you?”

“I’m going to help them.”

“How do you help a ghost?”

“Oliver, do you want them gone or not?”

“I do,” Oliver sighed.

“Are you going to help me?”

Oliver swallowed. “I will.”

“Good. Then I can guarantee you’ll be rid of them soon.” Dr. Hass stood. “Oh, and Oliver. They’ll be coming into town disguised as tourists.”

Ainsley was not sure if she was hyperventilating. But she did know that she couldn’t catch her breath, and she felt as if her heart was going to pound right through her chest wall.

“Hello? Ma’am?”

She nearly dropped the phone, but managed to put her mouth to the receiver. “Y-yes. I’m here. I’m … um … just.

“I’m sorry, we just don’t have the banquet hall available for that night. You really should’ve called sooner.”

“Thank you …” Ainsley reached out and tried to hang the receiver up, missing twice before finally lifting it high enough for it to hook. “What am I going to do?” she cried to herself. This morning she’d worked on Melb’s reception. But she knew that left her plenty of time this afternoon to work on her own wedding. Except everything she was doing kept leading to dead ends. Marlee had even called wondering when her bridesmaid’s dress was going to be ready. Ainsley could hardly believe she’d forgotten to sew it! She’d picked out the pattern many weeks ago, and gotten Marlee’s measurements, but that was it. The pattern lay in a corner, ready for material.

Material. Go get material.

She grabbed her purse off the table and went outside. As she drove to the fabric store, her mind swirled with everything that was going wrong. All she had right were her wedding dress and invitations. Besides that, she had yet to pick out flowers, had not planned the reception or found a caterer, hadn’t found a new wedding cake or attended to all the minute details that came with planning a wedding in general. And she was flabbergasted to realize she might not be capable of it all. Never in her life had she not been capable of planning something. But now everything seemed to be crumbling before her.

“No,” she said to herself. “I can do it. I’ve always been able to do it, and I still can.” She wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel and leaned forward in steely determination.

Once at the fabric store, she told herself to get in and get out. There
was no rime to waste. She had still not talked with Wolfe, and it picked at her. She’d decided not to call him. She’d left a message. She wasn’t going to beg him to understand. If he didn’t understand her passions and desires, maybe he didn’t understand her at all.

“Hi Ainsley!” Alma Hayes, the store owner, said.

“Hi Alma.” Ainsley smiled through her distressing thoughts.

“Let me guess! You’re making some new aprons? We just got in this fabulous chili pepper pattern.”

“No aprons.”

“A table runner?”

“Actually, a bridesmaid’s dress. For Marlee.”

Alma frowned. “Really? This late?”

“I know, I’m running a little behind.”

“Well, nobody I know can sew faster than you can.”

“This shouldn’t be hard. I already know what I want.” A dreamy smile stole over her lips. “Powder blue silk.”

Alma smiled and went behind the nearby counter. “Five yards?”

“Yes, that should be fine.”

Alma was jotting all this down. “Powder blue silk. Okay, I’ll put in an order for it.”

“An order? You don’t carry it in the store?”

“Not silk. We carry only white. Everything else has to be special ordered since it’s so expensive.”

The next question came out as barely a whisper. “About how long would it take to get it in?”

“About four weeks.”

Her face warmed as she tried to hold back tears. “Four weeks.”

Alma grinned. “But we have a lovely selection of blue taffeta.”

Reverend Peck could hardly sleep, could hardly eat. He was exhausted, for one. He’d spent a week trying to put all the pews back in. The bolts that were so easy to take off didn’t seem to want to go back on.

But he also knew he was losing hope. The passion that had for so many years put him behind the pulpit and provided him with a message few wanted to hear was dying. He could no longer look into indifferent faces. He could no longer pretend what he was doing was making the slightest difference.

But something deep inside told him he couldn’t leave Skary. True, it was home to him. Yet there was something more about this town, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

In all his years of ministry, he had kept every single sermon he’d preached. He simply filed them by date. He had nearly a thousand, stored neatly in his basement. Reverend Peck made his way down there, pulling the string that illuminated the single light bulb.

Without much trouble, he found the very first box from twenty years ago. Opening it, he thumbed through the folders and found it. Holding it up toward the light, he laughed. His very first sermon at this church!
Learning to Love Those Who Are Different.
He sighed. It was probably useless to preach. Everybody in this town was exactly the same!