Ghost a La Mode (26 page)

"Now you're the one name-calling."

"What can I say? You bring out the worst in me."

They fell into an awkward silence. Emma looked around, wondering where their food was, while Phil studied her with hooded eyes. She squirmed. She wasn't used to being scrutinized at such close range. Finally, she broke the silence.

"Why'd we come here? Was it because you were ashamed to go back to the Rong Branch after last night's brawl?"

Phil laughed. "Hardly. I've lived here all my life. These folks have seen me do a lot worse, believe me." He looked around before continuing, like he was about to tell her a national top secret. "Truth is, I have a bit of high cholesterol. And my aunt has a lot of influence with the folks at the Rong Branch. Between her and Bev, if I order anything fried, it automatically gets substituted with something healthy. You'd think I was ordering up plutonium with an anthrax chaser. Today I just wanted a cheeseburger and fries with no side of bullshit, just lettuce and tomato. I hope you don't mind."

Emma couldn't help but smile. "But I noticed you didn't order a shake."

"No, but I do intend to have a spoonful or two of yours."

Emma toyed with her silverware. "So, tell me about your alibi last night."

"Why? You jealous?"

"No, of course not. Just that I told you about mine."

The shake and iced tea were served. Emma took a sip of the shake. It was every bit as good as he'd promised.

"You did say you were taking Beverly home. Just wondering if she was your alibi."

Phil dipped his spoon into Emma's shake and took a healthy gob. He stuck it in his mouth and closed his eyes in bliss. "Mmm, didn't I tell you it's the best?"

Their food came next. Emma busied herself with her tuna sandwich while she waited for his answer.

"Yes, she's my alibi." Phil chewed and swallowed his first bite of burger. "Sure you're not jealous?"

Emma laughed. "In a way, maybe. I mean, you spent the night in the arms of a loved one, while I spent it in the company of a ghost. You do the math."

Phil wiped his mouth with a napkin and chuckled. "If it's any consolation, Emma, I spent the night with Beau, Beverly's bulldog. Bev's car is in the shop, and Chad, her husband, is down with a broken leg. She can't drive his truck because she can't drive a stick, so I said I'd make sure she got home. After, Chad and I kicked back a few too many, so I crashed in their spare room. The dog was a bonus."

Phil's cell phone rang. He answered it, grunted a few times, and hung up. "That was Aunt Susan. Your accommodations are all squared away. But she said to bring you home for supper-your friends, too."

They ate in a comfortable silence. In spite of Phil's brusque behavior, Emma found him ruggedly handsome and sexy, and she knew the second kiss had not been an accident, at least on her part. She even liked the friendly teasing. Grant had never teased her in fun. This casual lunch was allowing her to see a different side of Phil Bowers. And it was clear the people in the town respected and cared about him. Perhaps in a different time and different place, they could become friends.

"Tell you one thing that might make you feel better about last night." Phil shot her a pained look. "Bet your alibi didn't fart and snore.

After lunch, the two of them walked from the diner down to where Emma's car was parked at the corner of Main and B Streets. Waiting for them next to the Lexus was a short, stumpy man with wild black hair and a full beard. He was dressed in mechanic's overalls.

Phil introduced them. "This is George, but we call him Gopher." After the two said hello, Phil told Emma, "Grab your bags out of the car and give Goph the keys. His garage is just down the road. He'll take the car there and check it over, top to bottom, while we get you settled at the cottage."

The cottage was on Third Street, just a block up and one over from the Julian Hotel. Phil carried her bag up the small hill to a quaint one-story house. It was painted mint green, with a white picket fence surrounding the yard. They were met there by a pleasant-looking woman about Susan's age. She gave them a tour, took Emma's credit card information, and handed her the key.

"Stay as long as you like," the woman told her with a smile. "We don't have it rented until Fourth of July weekend." She handed Emma a card. "That's my number. I live just a few blocks away. Call if you need anything."

The cottage was charming and comfortable. The walls of each room were paneled in pine, and the rooms were filled with painted furniture and antiques. There was a full kitchen and adequate bathroom.

"You were right, Phil," Emma said as soon as the woman left. "It's lovely."

He poked around the kitchen, opening cupboards and the refrigerator. "There's coffee here, but not much else. Why don't I take you shopping so you'll at least have a few things for meals? I'm sure you're tired of eating out."

"Do you really think I need to? I mean, we'll probably go home tomorrow."

He looked at her a long time before speaking. "Why don't you stay the weekend? The cottage is available, and I'm sure your friends would enjoy Julian. I don't have to go back to San Diego until Monday morning, so I can show you and your friends around. Take you riding. Show you Lake Cuyamaca."

It was a very tempting offer, and Emma couldn't think of any reason to rush home if Archie was with her, except that Milo seemed to think she was in danger while in Julian. That was some thing she couldn't shake and probably shouldn't ignore. After Gopher declared her car safe, she would confer with Milo.

She walked to the window and looked out over the small yard that faced the street. Colorful flowers bordered the fence, adding a storybook look to the house. Phil came up behind her.

"Like you said, Emma, we're both in the middle of divorces. Doesn't mean we can't be friends and enjoy each other's company for a few days." He laughed. "Especially now that I'm pretty sure you're not a thief and a liar, just nuts."

Emma turned around, unsure of whether she should be amused or offended. She didn't like the way Phil Bowers threw her off balance.

"And between your girlfriend, psychic, dog, and my aunt, we'll be well chaperoned. Don't see any more bathroom episodes in the cards, do you?"

Before she succumbed to her urge to kiss him a third time, Emma walked over to a chair next to the sofa and sat down. "And what about the ghosts?"

It had suddenly occurred to her that she could never have a relationship with a man again without mentioning her newfound abilities. It was something that she was sure would cut deeply into the pool of available men.

"They can come along, too, if they like."

"You don't believe I can see and speak with spirits, do you, Phil?"

Frustrated with the way the conversation was going, Phil Bowers sat down on the sofa and crossed one booted leg over the other. "I think that's a lot to ask a guy to believe in such a short time, don't you?"

"Several weeks ago, I didn't believe it either. And now here I am in Julian, looking up long-dead relatives and involved with a present-day murder, not to mention being visited by the ghost of the victim." She sighed. "That was a lot for me to believe in a short time, but I did it."

"Are you saying, Emma, that we can't be friends unless I believe that you're a real-life ghost whisperer, like that show on TV?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying. But I don't know if I can be friends, even for a few days, with someone who thinks I'm crazy."

"Okay, cards on the table." Phil uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "I'm very attracted to you, Emma. Was from the first time I met you, in spite of how I felt about other things. You're beautiful, smart, and funny. And I generally don't think you're nuts. I know you believe what you're saying. I'm just not onboard with it yet, and may never be."

"Then why did you agree to help when Milo told us about his vision? If you don't believe in these things, then why have your friend check out my car?"

"I wasn't going to take a chance with your safety. It doesn't take long to check the soundness of a vehicle. If that's all it took to give you and your friends peace of mind, then I was going to do it."

All of a sudden, Phil looked around. "Did you feel that? Sure got cold in here suddenly. The a.c. must have kicked on."

"It's not the air conditioning, Phil. The ghost of Granny Apples just came in. The air always turns a bit cold when ghosts are present." Emma shifted her eyes to the table next to the sofa. "She's over there, by the end table. To your right."

After shifting his body a foot or so to his left, Phil turned his head to his right. All he saw was air.

"Didn't you notice how cold it got in the bathroom? She was in there with us for part of the time."

Emma looked over at the ghost. "Granny, we need to talk, so don't you go disappearing on me again."

"You staying to help?" asked the ghost.

"I'm staying because Milo says I'm in danger if I leave. He also told me I'm in danger if I stay. I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place and need your help."

Phil Bowers remained on the sofa, watching and listening to the one-sided conversation. But suddenly, before Emma said anything more, she rocketed to her feet. Turning around, she covered her ears with her hands and stared at a place near the window, her face a mask of fright. He heard and saw nothing. If Emma Whitecastle was playacting, she was doing an expert job of it.

The screams pierced Emma's head like an ice pick and sent Granny Apples packing. Standing near the window was the ghost of Garrett Bell, his mouth open as he let out shriek after shriek.

"Stop it, Garrett! Stop it this minute!"

Phil leapt to his feet and pulled one of Emma's hands from her ears. "What's going on, Emma?"

"It's the spirit of Garrett Bell-the person you knew as Ian Reynolds. He's here, and he's screaming over and over. He's scared off Granny."

Garrett stopped. "Isn't that what ghosts are supposed to do, Emma? Or are you only comfortable with Casper-like friendly ghosts?"

"Who killed you, Garrett?"

"The same one who's going to kill you, my dear, as soon as he gets what he wants"

"Who is it, and what does he want?"

"You're so smart, you figure it out."

And then he was gone.

Emma stared at the empty space long after the ghost left. Phil stayed by her side. When she walked over to the sofa to sit down, Phil perched on the arm of the sofa.

Emma told Phil what had transpired between her and Garrett Bell's ghost.

"I see he's just as obnoxious in death as he was in life."

"So you believe me?"

"I believe you believe."

It wasn't the answer she'd hoped for, but it would do for now. She gave him a flicker of a smile before sitting up straight. It was time to get down to business.

"Granny, you get back here. I need you." She continued calling for the ghost of Granny Apples until she finally saw a shimmer, followed by the familiar image. Granny sat in a small rocker across from the sofa.

Emma fixed her eyes on Granny's face. "Granny, do you want me to die?"

"No, of course not," answered Granny.

"I helped you. Now it's your turn to help me, even if it means staying around when Garrett Bell comes back."

"Garrett Bell can't hurt you, Emma. He's dead."

Emma gave Phil a running commentary on the conversation.

"Yes, he is, but the person who killed him isn't. Garrett just said that as soon as that person gets what he wants, he's going to kill me, too." When Granny didn't respond, Emma continued. "Granny, do you know who killed Garrett?"

"No, Emma, I don't."

"Wait," said Phil. "Why don't the ghosts know who killed Garrett? He's one of them now, isn't he?"

Emma leaned her head against the back of the sofa. "Billy might have seen it, but I'd have to get into the cemetery to ask him."

"Good luck with that. It's all cordoned off," Phil scoffed. "Of course, we could always hold a seance right here and ask him to join us."

Emma shot him a sour look, then sat straight up. "I just had a thought"

Getting up, she grabbed her phone and her purse and came back to the sofa. After digging out the slip of paper with Ian Reynolds' phone number, she dialed it, putting the call on speaker. After four rings, a message came on. The person identified himself as Ian Reynolds, but the voice was nothing like Garrett's; it was older and thicker. Without leaving a message, Emma closed the phone.

"That didn't sound at all like Garrett Bell, yet that's the number the museum had. That person called them looking for family information a few months ago. It makes me wonder if the real Ian Reynolds was letting Garrett impersonate him to work with the spirits and you to get the land?"

Phil scratched the top of his head. "You thinking maybe the real Ian is the killer?"

"It's just a thought"

She looked over at the ghost. "Did you know, Granny, that when Garrett died, he was posing as Ian Reynolds?"

"Why would he do a fool thing like that? He doesn't look anything like him."

"You know what Ian looks like?"

"Yes. I tried contacting him, remember? He's a much older man than Garrett-or was."

"Was?" Emma got up and went to stand closer to Granny, to make sure she heard her answer.

"Ian Reynolds died, Emma. Not too long ago."

"You're sure about this?"

Granny nodded. Emma noticed that she was starting to fade and hurried with her train of thought.

"Is it possible, Granny, for you to round up Ian's ghost?"

"I'll try." She disappeared.

During the exchange, Phil had gotten up from the sofa and posted himself at the dining table across the room. He watched Emma talking to thin air and listened when she relayed Granny's responses to him. He tried to make himself believe.

The ring of his cell phone interrupted Phil's thoughts. Emma watched as he spoke with someone on the other end, waiting to see if it was news about her car. As the call went on, Phil got more and more agitated.

"That was Gopher." His tone was urgent. "Let's go, we have to get down there."

"There was something wrong with the car?"