What's a Ghoul to Do? (26 page)

"Ouch," I said as I munched on a fry. "Talk about tough love."

"Exactly. So my father has just enough money to make it the few months to study for his medical boards, which he barely passes, and he begins practicing medicine. The trouble for him is that it takes time to build his practice, and my father was not known for his patience.

"Within six months of opening up his practice, he starts up again with his college girlfriend and proposes."

"He's married to Corrin Wharton, right?" I said.

"You've heard of her?"

"I've heard of her filthy-rich daddy," I said, giving my eyebrows a bounce.

"I think it was love at first sight," Steven mocked.

"So he marries Corrin; then what?"

"My father thinks he's in the clear, and goes back to the old lifestyle of long visits to Argentina and making false promises to my mother. This is about the time I was conceived, and as my mother tells it, everything was going along well until my father is caught with my mother by a friend of Corrin's."

"The plot thickens," I said.

"Pardon?" Steven asked. "What thickens?"

"Things become complicated," I explained.

"Very," he said. "My mother said that my father told her he had to go back to Boston to take care of the mess caused by his wife's friend, but that he would be back soon and the two of them would eventually marry."

"So let me guess where this is headed," I said, thinking that Steven lucked out when he got his apparent good sense from his mother. "Your mother never sees him again."

"Banjo," Steven said, pointing a pretend gun at me.

"Bingo," I corrected with a giggle. "The term is, 'Bingo.'"

"Banjo, bingo," Steven said, waving his hand. "Anyway, when my father gets back to Boston, his wife threatens to divorce him if he doesn't stop playboying, and to make sure he doesn't get into trouble again she makes him go back to his medical practice. She also hired and paid his nursing staff to keep watch on him and report directly to her."

"And did the relationship between your grandfather and your father ever improve after your father tried to declare him incompetent for acknowledging you as an heir?"

Steven nodded. "Yes, but only on the … er… like on the top of the water?"

"Surface," I said, then took a bite of sandwich.

"Yes, surface. After a few years my father became a regular visitor at the lodge, except, of course, during the summer, when I was here; then he would come up only once or twice and stay in town at Helen's. The two men would go out on their hunts, something I never enjoyed, but which both of them seemed to like. Still, I don't think my grandfather ever fully trusted my father again."

"You still believe Steven Senior was only playacting to get back into Andrew's good graces?"

"My father was on a very short dog leash," Steven said. "He could not do anything without his wife knowing about it. His only freedom was up here with my grandfather."

"But your grandfather wasn't buying it," I said, more fact than question.

"Exactly."

"So how is that you ended up in medicine? I mean, your father hardly sounds like the kind of man you'd want to follow in the footsteps of."

"That is the true … how do you say, like iron?"

"Irony," I supplied.

Steven nodded. "When I was a small boy, my mother tried very hard to give me the impression that my father was a great man of medicine, and that the reason he was not able to come live with us was because he was busy saving sick children around the world."

"Poor woman," I said sadly. "She must have felt bad about your not having a father figure."

Steven nodded. "She did. By the time I came to visit my grandfather and learned the truth of my father's character, I already had it in my head that I wanted to be a great doctor too."

"Your grandfather must have loved that. The son he has to push into that career, but his grandson goes into it willingly."

"Yes. Anyway, my grandfather insisted I have the best education possible. He and my mother discuss this, and she suggests a boarding school in Germany. Her cousin married a German and they live close to the school, so I had family nearby to make me less lonely."

"You must have missed your mother," I said, watching Steven's face closely.

"Oh, believe me, I did. But I saw her on holidays and when she would come to stay with me during the summer to visit with my grandfather here. In the end, it was for the best. I got to learn German and English, and I can say that I've traveled the world."

"So you speak three languages?" I asked, rather fascinated by how worldly Steven was.

"Five. I also speak French and Italian, but English is my most rusty language."

I gave him a wink and asked, "Your father really never wanted anything to do with you? He never made any attempt at all to get to know you?"

"None. Which is why I believe that my grandfather left his fortune to me, and not my father. He knew that Steven would never acknowledge me as his rightful heir, so by naming me in his will, he could ensure that I was really a Sable."

"Did your father know you were going to inherit everything?"

Steven smiled. "Oh, I doubt it. Word leaked to me in Germany that he … uh … when you're so angry you go kaboom?"

"Exploded?"

"Yes, that too. He went kaboom and exploded at the reading of the will."

I laughed. "Come on. Let's go check in on Gilley and see if he's found out anything further about our list of interesting people."

We left the restaurant and got back in the car, heading toward Helen's bed-and-breakfast. I looked lazily out the car window. With my full stomach and the grueling events of that day I found my eyelids feeling heavy. We stopped at one of the town's three stoplights, and I forced my eyelids open, trying to stay awake. Just then I saw Steven's father come out of a small, stand-alone building with a marquee that read, ROGER DILLON, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. "Wait," I said, reaching over to squeeze Steven's arm. "Look over there."

"He seems to be everywhere we are, no?" Steven remarked as his father turned the corner and headed to a Rolls-Royce parked down the side street. Behind us another car tooted its horn. Steven put the gearshift into first, and again I put my hand on his arm. "Yes, and take a look at the sign above the store."

The driver behind us laid on the horn slightly longer this time. I saw Steven's jaw tighten as he noticed the sign, and then he stepped on the gas and pulled over to the curb, parking in front of
Jeanie's Fabrics.
"Let's go," he said, and hopped out.

I followed suit, and we walked half a block to the building, pausing at the side street to see if the coast was clear of Steven Senior. It was, so we went in.

The interior of Roger Dillon's law office was a testament to taxidermy. A dozen or so stuffed and mounted animal heads laid claim to every wall and open surface of the lobby. No two heads were of the same species. There was a deer head, a bear head, and a fox head, along with more exotic creatures like a gazelle and a zebra. There was even the head of a rhinoceros, and I noticed that part of its horn had decayed with age and was starting to flake off.

The scene was like something out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. It was truly creepy.

The small room was paneled in dark wood, and a threadbare gray carpet covered the floor. The air hung heavy with the smell of must and old paper. There were two battle-hardened chairs that looked about as comfortable as sitting on the floor.

A little bell above the door had jingled when we came in, and from the back we heard a voice say, "Be right with you!"

"What
is
this place?" Steven whispered.

"The front lobby to the Bates Motel," I said.

"Can I help you?" a tiny man with round features and olive skin said from behind the counter.

"Hello," Steven said, extending his hand to the man. "I'm Dr. Steven Sable. I thought I knew most of the townspeople, but I don't think we've ever met."

The man regarded Steven for a moment before shaking his hand. He couldn't be much taller than four and a half feet, but was colorfully dressed in a brown tweed suit and orange bow tie. He had large blue eyes and short white hair that stuck up in odd places. Overall, he reminded me of an Oompa Loompa.

"Good to finally meet you, Steven," the man said. "I knew your grandfather well. He and I had a few great hunting trips together, although I never could get him to come out on safari with me."

Steven smiled as he shook hands. "Are you the great hunter Roger my grandfather was always talking about?"

I could sense that Steven was lying. "Andrew talked about me?" Roger said, his little chest puffing up.

"He did. He said you were a very good hunter."

Roger smiled broadly. "I never knew he felt that way. He used to tease me a lot about all my trophies," he said, waving his hand at the walls. "But maybe it was just his way. Say, did you know you just missed your father?"

"Did we?" Steven replied casually. "That's too bad. I would have liked to catch up with him."

"I didn't know you two were speaking," Roger remarked. "But I suppose Andrew's death has brought you close after all these years."

"Mmmm," Steven said, allowing Roger to think what he liked.

"So what can I do you for?" Roger asked us.

Steven turned away from the counter and walked over to the closest wall to inspect the trophies there more closely. He said lightly, "I heard you were one of the last people to talk with my grandfather before he died. I was thinking you might wish to share what his final thoughts were, or what you two talked about."

A cloud seemed to cross over Roger's face. "I'm afraid I can't do that," he said. "It's confidential."

Steven turned away from the trophy wall. "How could it be confidential? My grandfather is dead. I don't think he would mind if you shared this with us."

"He might not mind, but the other party involved would."

Steven cut me a quick look, and said, "Ah. I see. Is that a grizzly bear?"

Roger beamed. "Why, yes, it is. But the real beauty is in my office. I got a polar bear about ten years ago up in Canada. They're one of the most ferocious predators on earth, you know."

"You are making a joke with me," Steven said. "You shot a polar bear?"

"Yep. Had him stuffed and mounted. That set me back one pretty penny, let me tell you!"

"Can I see it?" Steven asked excitedly.

"Sure, come on back and I'll show you." Roger waved his arm as he turned to walk back down the corridor.

Steven turned to me. "Coming?"

"Actually, I'm pooped, and I'd love to take a minute and just rest. I'll stay right here while you boys go have your fun." And with that I sat in one of the weathered chairs.

Steven and Roger disappeared down the hallway while I put my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. About the time I was beginning to nod off, I heard someone clear his throat.

Opening one eye, I saw Roger standing by the counter. "You two done swapping hunting stories?" I asked.

Roger beamed at me. "Your boyfriend says he doesn't hunt, which is a shame, because he sure seems interested in it. He's in the men's room. He told me to come check on you and make sure you weren't mad, since we took so long."

"I'm not mad," I said, sitting up and yawning.

Roger fiddled with his blazer as he seemed to struggle to come up with a topic that didn't involve guns, wild animals, or taxidermy. I stood up and stretched, hoping Steven wouldn't be too much longer. "You and Andrew were close, huh?" I asked, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"No, not really. We were both members of the Uphamshire Hunting Association, but he preferred duck and quail, while I like more challenging game. We didn't see each other regularly outside meetings."

"Ah," I said with a nod. This man was dull, dull, dull. "What kind of law do you practice?"

"I dabble in a little bit of everything," Roger said. "From real estate and tax law to divorce and separation, with a little bit of bankruptcy thrown in for good measure. I'm the only lawyer in town, so it's good to be well versed in a lot of different areas."

"I see. Say, Roger, maybe you can help me out. I really have to say that I love this area, and I'm considering purchasing a vacation home. Are there any Realtors you could recommend?" I was thinking about what Mirabelle had said, that she was being chased by a Realtor with an out-of-town couple who wanted to buy her home. Something about it seemed fishy, and I wanted to check it out.

"There's only one Realtor in this area, Curt Bancroft. He's on Main and Second Street. We send each other business now and then."

"Thanks, Roger." Just then Steven reappeared, holding his stomach a little and wearing a sheepish look.

"Sorry," he said. "That chili I had for lunch had an argument with my stomach. M.J., you ready?"

"Sure am. Nice meeting you, Roger."

"Likewise," he said, and watched us go.

When we were clear of the building I said, "Chili, huh? I could have sworn I watched you down a burger."

"What time do you have?" Steven asked, avoiding my comment.

"Four thirty," I said. "Why?"

"Follow me," he said, and crossed the street into a hardware store.

"What are we doing here?" I said when we'd made it inside.

"How you say to make the minutes go by while you are waiting?"

"Passing time."

"Yes, we are passing time for now," he said as he pulled me down an aisle lined with garden hoses and lawn tools. I gave him a quizzical look, and all he said was, "I will explain to you in a half hour. Just follow my leadership for now."

We puttered around the hardware store long enough to catch the attention of the proprietor. "Can I help you?" a skinny man with a really bad comb-over asked.

"We are just borrowing," Steven said.

"Browsing,"
I said quickly. "He meant to say browsing."

"Uh-huh," the skinny man said, not believing us for a second. "Let me know if I can help you," he finished, and sidled back to his seat at the counter, where he watched us like a hawk.