The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag: All Washed Up: (Book 3 in the Misadventures of the Laundry Hag series) (13 page)

 That garnered a snort from my partner in crime. “Why does that sound dirty to me?”

 “Because you are a sick and twisted individual.”

 “Which is why we get along so well,” she quipped back. Huh, Neil must be on to something with the banter.

 Mrs. Small returned with the aspirin and I downed two tablets with the bottle of water she provided. “Thank you.”

“You be careful, dear,” Mrs. Small warned as though I were an irresponsible eight-year-old intent on riding her bike across a busy highway at rush hour.

I’d only done that once.

Though my head throbbed, I did want pie and wanted to talk to Alex Ruiz even more. The diner seemed to act as the beating heart of this town, the same way my kitchen was the heart of my house. Just like animals, people were friendlier when you fed them.

Though I shouldn’t have been surprised, I was taken aback when I saw Neil and Leo already seated in the diner. Obviously Sylvia’s phone had seen some texting action.

Neil had a plate of fries and a worried expression on his face. “What happened?”

I let Sylvia fill him in, while I reached for a fry. Neil made a disgusted sound and pushed the plate in front of me. “Jesus wept, Maggie—”

Alex bustled over, coffee pot in hand. She looked from Neil’s battered countenance to whatever magic I had going on and raised a brow. “What can I get you?”

“Pie,” I said. “Whatever kind is best for recovery.”

She tapped a pen to her chin. “Kentucky, I think. You like chocolate chips?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods? Hit me,” I said. Beside me Neil winced and I added, “Better make it a double.”

I waited for Alex to leave then turned to Leo and Sylvia. “Would you guys give us a minute?”

“I wanted to pop into the market anyhow. Come on, Leo. I want to introduce you to the many delights of a Vegan diet.”

“Joy, rapture.” Leo’s tone was dry.

Alex set down two slices of what looked like a warm, gooey chocolate chip cookie inside a pie crust and topped with homemade vanilla ice cream. My mouth watered at the decadent treat, which I felt I’d justly earned. I slid one in Neil’s direction and cut into mine with the side of a fork.

“We’re a mess, Slick,” I told him before I took my first forkful of pie. It was delicious enough to cut through the pain better than any pill ever could.

He studied my face and I saw him swallow hard, pie untouched before him. “In more ways than one. Any ideas how to fix it?”

“It would probably help if the ghost quit trying to kill me.”

He blew out a breath at that. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” I took another bite, then pushed the plate away and reached for his hand. His eyes widened. Well, one did and the other expanded as much as it could with the swelling.

“That’s the first time.” His brows drew down as he studied our interlocked fingers. “The first time since you got out of the hospital.”

I knew what he meant. Since I’d been burned, I hadn’t reached for him or engaged him in any kind of physical intimacy. I’d shied away from his touch at the same time I craved it. It was past time to get the hell over it.

“I’m prepared to forgive you. For all of it, across the board—the lying, the scheming, the mindfuck, turning my friends against me—the whole shebang. I won’t even drag it out like holiday decorations to gloat over or wave around under your nose. Total absolution,” I said and heard him suck in a sharp breath. So, he hadn’t expected it. Good, time to let the other shoe drop. “On one condition.”

“Anything,” he rasped.

 There was so much feeling in that one word. Not just about me letting it go, either. I picked up on the fear that had been seething just beneath the surface. It threatened to drown him. He’d been afraid for me and for himself and I’d just thrown him a life preserver. I had to tread carefully.

“What I need,” I said, my gaze locked on his, “is for you to be completely honest with me. No more sneak attacks, fibs or nasty surprises. No more making plans behind my back for my own good. You don’t get to lie to spare my feelings or to make things easier. I need to trust one person completely and I want that person to be you. Can you do that?”

 He blew out a huge breath and the corner of his mouth kicked up. “You’re not asking much, are you?”

I let go of him and reached for the comfort of the pie, but he snagged my hand back before I got a hold of the plate. He brought the mangled thing to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “All right.”

I squared my shoulders and stared him down. “I mean it, Neil. From now on, we’re on the same team and you have to respect my decisions.”

His eyes softened. “We’re always on the same team and I do respect your decisions. I just want you to make sane ones.”

I smiled at that. “I‘ll work on that.”

I tried to take my hand back because my ice cream was melting and damn, what a waste, but he held fast. “And are you going to be completely honest with me, too? No more sneaking out to stalk potential murderers in the middle of the night?”

“That happened once—,”

“No more spying on me instead of just asking what I’m doing?”

“Again, it was one time and totally by accident.”

“No more hiding Dr. Bob’s homework assignments?” He smoldered at me across the table.

A hot flash stole over me like a minor electrocution. The homework assignment in question had been like the Kama Sutra on steroids. I’d taken one look at it, panicked, and found the nearest recycling bin. “You’re melting my ice cream.”

“Good,” he smiled and released my hand before picking up his fork. “Something to look forward to later.”

Chapter Thirteen

Luckily, Sylvia and Leo returned before someone reported us for public indecency. Despite the recent head injury, or maybe due to the pie, I was thinking clearly. The diner crowd had thinned and I caught Alex’s eye and waved her over.

“Sam told me about your accident yesterday. Glad to see you two are all right. Was it a deer? You gotta watch out for them, particularly after dark.”

 “No, it wasn’t a deer.” It was no secret why we were in town and I figured Alex had heard worse. “I think it was a ghost.”

 “Really?” Alex didn’t appear all that surprised. “How do you know it was a ghost?”

 “We don’t,” Neil said. “Not for sure. I just saw a woman—”

 “The same one I saw in the library just now before a bookshelf was pushed on top of me. I’m convinced she’s a ghost. What I don’t know is whose ghost she is or why she’s trying to kill me.”

 Leo sucked in a sharp breath. Apparently Sylvia hadn’t told him about my theory while they were at the market.

 Alex abandoned any pretense of working and pulled up a chair.

“Gus, hey Gus,” she gestured to her boss. “Come here a second.”

 Gustav Shempsky had been flirting with a cherub cheeked woman and heaved a put-upon sigh before he ambled over to our table. “Ah, our newest residents. I’ve heard you had some trouble in town. Sounds familiar, does it not?”

 To my surprise, Alex blushed. “Totally different circumstances, Gus. Sam never tangled with a ghost.”

 “Ghost you say?” Gustav showed as much surprise as Alex had, nothing beyond a mild interest. “What’s it done?”

 There didn’t seem any point in keeping the circumstances of our accident under wraps. I’d been both loud and vehement at the hospital and Mrs. Small had witnessed the aftermath of the latest incident.

 “It’s not all paranormal activity though,” Neil remarked, then told them about the boom box in the wall.

 I expected Alex and Gus to shrug that off, but they didn’t. Alex drummed her fingers on the tabletop and Gus frowned at her and waited. For what, I had no idea but the rest of the table paused, too.

 Alex seemed to come to some sort of decision. “Okay. Well, first off, don’t judge the barrel by a few rotten apples. We don’t normally talk about this, but a few years ago there was a hate group that stirred things up around here.”

 Gustav made a rude noise. “Call a spade a spade,
liebling
. It was a homegrown terrorist cell.”

Neil’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

 Gustav nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“I read about that,” Sylvia surprised us all. “In the archives, though it didn’t mention any names.”

“That was the town protecting its own,” Alex said. “But Sam and I were at the epicenter of it.”

 “Okaaaay,” I drew the word out to give myself a chance to think. “So, the moral to this story is…?”

 Leo was way ahead of me. “Bad things happen, even in small, sleepy towns.”

 “And you shouldn’t ignore even the smallest thing because you believe it to be harmless,” Alex added. “Have you told Sam about the boom box? He might want to dust for fingerprints.”

 The tips of Neil’s ears turned pink. “Well, I made a mess getting it out of the wall last night. I didn’t think about it being evidence and I didn’t want all the plaster dust to ruin the machine so I wiped it down.”

 Alex made a disgusted sound, but I grinned. So Mr. Perfect didn’t plan for every contingency. Though it was a rotten thought, it made me feel better.

 “Did you consider,” Gustav mused, “that perhaps the ghost isn’t trying to harm you, but maybe to warn you?”

 I didn’t, which must have been apparent by the look on my face, because he waved a hand as if he could erase the supposition from our minds.
 “Don’t listen to me. I’m a foolish old man.”

 “No, I think you might be right,” Sylvia chimed in. “Think about it, Maggie. The ghost had no way of knowing she’d cause your car to wreck. Maybe she was just trying to get your attention.”

Mission accomplished. “What about just now, in the library? I think knocking a bookcase on my head is taking the whole cry for attention thing a bit far.”

“You said you saw her in front of you. Yet the bookcase struck you from behind. It could have been someone else. Not a ghost, but a flesh and blood person.” Sylvia rose. “Let me check something.”

Before anyone could respond she’d dashed out of the diner, across the street to where her car was parked. She opened the trunk, rooted through the heaping boxes of ghost hunting paraphernalia, picked something out and shut the trunk.

We sat quietly as she ran back in and took a moment to catch her breath. She set a small electronic device, which looked like nothing more than a remote control, down on the table. “This is a spirit box.”

“It looks like a radio. Or maybe a personal recorder.” Leo squinted at the small electronic device. His eyebrows furrowed.

“Similar. It’s going to help us communicate with the deceased.”

“How?” Neil’s tone was derisive.

Sylvia beamed at him as if he were the star pupil and I knew she had the answer ready to go. “What this does is generate white noise. We need air to communicate, but a disembodied soul needs fuel of a different sort. Namely energy. All we have to do is sweep until we find the right frequency.”

“Like tuning a radio signal,” I said. Though I harbored some doubts about her latest harebrained scheme, I didn’t have a better suggestion.

“Does it work on AM or FM?” Alex asked.

“Both, though FM works better. Why?” Sylvia raised an eyebrow.

“Because the mountains muck with the FM signal, same as they do with cell phones. You have to find a spot with a clear signal.”

“And hope your ghost shows up there,” Leo put in.

A small smile spread across my features. “I think I know just the place.”