The First Ghost (26 page)

Okay, the middle one was my fault, but dinner hadn’t been my idea in the first place. I had wanted Mother and Walter to meet us somewhere for cocktails where we could retreat to neutral corners. Now we were stuck with one another for the evening.

After dinner, as we trouped into the living room, the doorbell rang. Harry loped to the door and stepped back, grinning wildly before the guest could even get in a word. “Portia, it’s for you.”

Fierro stood in the doorway looking pissed. Over my shoulder, I could hear the agitation of an equally unhappy boyfriend.

I rushed to the door and Fierro stepped back. Ethan was right on my heels, but I turned, placing my palms on his chest.

“What’s he doing here?” Ethan huffed.

“It’s okay. He’s here to talk to me about something that happened at work.”

“He keeps showing up.”

“It’s okay. He’s a cop. There was an incident at work. That’s all. Please go back inside.” I hated the wheedling note in my voice.

They glared at one another, but Ethan finally went back inside.

Fierro scuffed the stoop with his shoe. “Sorry about that.”

“How about some pie?” I turned in disbelief to see Harry holding up a Perulli’s box. “What?" he said. "Bring your friend inside and offer the man dessert. No reason to skulk around outside. Dr. Wonderful will get over it. So are you here to arrest Portia?” I was going wipe that grin off Harry’s face.

“Why? Has she done something else I need to know about?” Fierro glanced over at me and I knew that he knew I’d been to Woll Ag.

Harry continued grinning like the idiot he was and looking back and forth.

“Harry, this is private,” I said.

“Okay, sure.” He was completely unabashed. “After your super-secret important conversation, at least have the decency to let the guy come inside and get a slice of pie. It’s French Silk.” He took the box inside with him. I slammed the door.

“So.” I turned and found Fierro standing uncomfortably close. He was quick for a man his size.

“You just couldn’t resist, could you?” he said.

“Resist what? Picking up my paycheck? You’re annoyed I went to Woll Ag.”

“Annoyed? That’s a mild word for it. What the hell were you thinking? You couldn’t wait a single day to let us pick Tamaguchi up?”

“No, Fierro, I couldn’t. I have bills to pay, damn it. Half my stuff is in storage, and that isn’t free. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“I didn’t tell you what to do, but it was a reasonable suggestion, a pathetic plea on my part, really. I’m the bad guy for worrying about your safety.”

I was acutely aware of how close we were standing, aware of his scent, of him as a man. I took a step back. “How did you know I went there?”

“For crying out loud.” He ran a hand through his crew cut. “We have people watching. Hell, we’ve got people in the place.”

“Then it’s even safer than I thought. It’s not like Tamaguchi has any reason to come after me.”

“Stay away from now on. That place isn’t safe.”

If he was trying to keep me from Woll Ag, that was the wrong thing to say. It made me want to go there even though I had no legitimate reason to do so. Just because. I crossed my arms and stuck my hands in my armpits to warm them up. The cold was starting to get to me. “You don’t think Tamaguchi would dare go back to Woll Ag, do you? I mean, assuming he knows you’re looking for him.”

Fierro’s face darkened. “He knows.” He didn’t elaborate.

Another thought occurred to me. “You don’t think he acted alone.”

“Damn, you really are psychic.”

“Seriously, Fierro. Did Tamaguchi act alone?”

“We’re not sure. I have reason to believe that he didn’t, and don’t ask me ’cause I can’t tell you. But someone helped him cover his tracks. That’s all I can say.”

“Wow. Okay, I’ll be careful.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “That’s all I wanted. For you to stay safe.”

A frantic scrabbling started at the door behind me, followed by muffled barks. The door cracked open and a fawn and black bundle burst out. Billy wound around our feet ecstatically.

“Hey, buddy.” Fierro leaned down to scratch Billy’s head. He snorked with joy, depositing his Dingo at Fierro’s feet.

“Sorry.” Violet poked her head out. “He was so pitiful.”

She opened the door wider, and Fierro picked up the soggy Dingo and threw it inside. Billy tore after it. Violet closed the door again.

“We got the consent to search from Bootsie Bosch. We’re gonna rip up Biddle’s place tomorrow.”

“Can I come?”

“Sure. It’ll attract most of the neighborhood. These things always do.”

“I hope you find them.”

“So do I. I’ve pulled in a bunch of crime scene guys for this. It won’t look good if we dig up nothing but a bunch of rusted cans.” He shoved his hands back in his pockets. “I’d better go now.”

“Don’t you want that pie?”

“Better not. I think your boyfriend might develop an eye twitch.” He turned and made his way down the walk.

“Fierro.”

He turned back.

“Thanks for worrying,” I said softly and went back into the house.

* * * *

Ethan sat between Harry and Walter on the couch looking grumpy. I rousted Harry and sat close, sneaking my hand into Ethan’s. His expression brightened. “The situation at work is going to be okay,” I whispered.

He gave my hand a squeeze and kissed my shoulder.

Billy ran to the door, hoping to be let out for more playtime. When rebuffed, he ran around trying to get everyone to play “Throw the Dingo.” Dingo was a soggy mess after being savaged repeatedly, and folks became less and less willing to touch it.

I leaned over to Walter. “Shouldn’t we clean up the dining room? The dog will get into the food.”

“If we’re lucky, he’ll steal the chicken and there won’t be any leftovers.” Walter rubbed his belly.

I could see the wisdom in this. Maybe I would even push a chair closer to the table. Pugs have short legs.

Ethan was right about being good with moms. He was impressive. He was witty and charming. Not only had he eaten every bite of rubbery chicken without comment and even swished around the runny mashed potatoes and gelatinous gravy, but he helped clear the table later.

Billy insisted on sitting in my lap and snorking, which Ethan tolerated with good humor. He even played a cutthroat game of Trivial Pursuit and chased the dog helpfully when Billy stole the pieces. Mrs. Bierstock banished herself to God knows where. Walter told longwinded stories that went nowhere. Mother got quietly snockered on wine and sank into her easy chair, snoring softly. Only Harry seemed unaffected. His expression toward Ethan was distinctly cool.

“What is your deal?” I hissed at Harry while dunking dishes into the soapy water.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“What is your problem with Ethan?” I handed him a plate to dry.

“Nothing. Golden boy is fine, okay?”

“You’re jealous.”

“I’m not.” He dried the same plate again.

“You act it.”

“Whatever.” Harry set the plate to the side. “If he’s so wonderful, why is he so needy?”

“Excuse me?” I dunked another stack of plates into the water.

“You heard me. Needy. Golden boy is as needy as a labrador retriever.” A howl sounded from my back bedroom where Billy had been once again banished for savaging one of Mother’s good throw pillows. “Or a pug. I don’t care if he is a doctor. He’s not right for you. I’m telling you this as your twin. You should dump him. That detective guy is hot for you.”

“You deduced this after meeting Ethan twice and Fierro for all of ten minutes?”

Harry ducked his head, his ears burning red. “I’m saying it’s really obvious. The detective guy likes you. And Doc isn’t all he seems.”

It was a strangely urgent speech for Harry. “I have no idea what that means. And how did you know Fierro was a cop anyway? When Fierro showed up at the door, you knew who he was.”

“I recognized him. Newspaper. Remember that?”

“Oh. Sorry, but twinhood doesn’t entitle you to pick my dates. Speaking of, I guess you and Violet are getting serious.”

His eyes went wide. “She thinks so, doesn’t she?” I thought he was going to hyperventilate.

I rinsed the last dish and dried my hands. “How would I know? She’s
your
girlfriend. Is it serious? Should I be picking out bridesmaid dresses?”

“I like her and all, but I’m not sure I’m ready for what Violet is thinking.”

“And what is she thinking?” I flicked him with my dish towel.

He turned away. “How should I know? But it’s something serious.” He shuddered.

* * * *

Walter bundled Mother off to bed, and Harry snuck Violet up to his room over the garage. I toyed with the idea of taking Ethan back to my bedroom, but the idea skeeved me. This was the same room that formerly sported pony posters and a yellow bedspread with daisies. Walter and Mother were down the hall. I just couldn’t.

I settled for leading him to the back porch. Even wrapped in a heavy coat and Ethan’s arms, I shivered. I snuggled closer to him, tucking my feet under myself. He gave the porch swing a little push with his feet. We swayed gently.

I tilted my face to him for a kiss.

“This is nice,” he murmured against my mouth.

I explored his lips. “Mmm.”

“I like your family. They’re interesting.”

“Interesting. Good choice.”

He leaned back slightly. “I had fun.”

“I’m having fun now. Or I was.” I kissed him again, slowly and then with more energy, until the shivers got the better of me.

“We could go inside,” he suggested, sliding a hand inside my coat.

“No,” I groaned. “I can’t do it in my mother’s house.”

His lips curved in a wicked grin. “My car has a heater in it.”

“And bucket seats.”

“The seats recline.”

Giggling like teenagers, we ran hand in hand to the street where his car was parked. “Pull it around to the back,” I urged. “By the garage. It’s hidden by the neighbors’ fence.”

He fumbled his keys with eagerness, cranked the heater, then parked in the dark hollow between the garage and Mrs. Peeple’s house.

He started to lean back his seat, but I pulled him to me for a long kiss. Then I pushed him back into his seat and straddled him. It was a tight fit.

He felt amazingly good pressed to me like that. He stripped off my coat and then shirt. The steering wheel pressed into my back. Ethan popped the seat and we both fell with bone-jarring suddenness. In a few minutes we had the car rocking with our rhythm. Afterward, we stayed there, listening to the radio. I rested my head on his chest.

“Come home with me tonight,” he said.

“I can’t.” I placed a kiss in the crook of his neck and nuzzled his throat. “I’ve got a busy day tomorrow. The funeral home is slammed, and I suspect Mother’s going to be hurting in the morning.” Only part of that was true. I wanted to be there when Fierro searched Biddle’s house.

Ethan laughed, his breath moving my hair. “I don’t know what it takes to get you and keep you for the evening, but I’ll find out. Just you wait.”

The morning sky darkened like an angry bruise. The perky blonde on my TV screen predicted yet more rain, but we had a viewing and a funeral scheduled. I clipped the leash to Billy, who snuffled with excitement, and took him for a quick run around the block. True, I couldn’t really run with him. His little legs worked hard to keep up with my slow trot, but it was good for him to get out and do his business in someone else’s yard.

He joyously inhaled scents off of everything we passed and hiked his leg a few times to contribute his own. Trotting past Biddle’s house unsettled me.

It was only a house. Sure, the yard was choked with weeds since he no longer tended it. Winter meant it wasn’t a jungle, just straggly grasses and Queen Anne’s Lace. The paint was peeling, and one of the shutters on the upper story hung loosely. It rattled in the brisk wind.

I pulled my hat down tighter and gave the leash a tug. Billy popped out of the bushes, bright-eyed. Suddenly, he stopped and turned, staring straight at the house. My skin crawled.

“Come on,” I said and tugged again. He hesitated, but followed.

We circled the block and made it inside in time to see Mother stagger down the hall cocooned in a chenille robe. She had showered, and her wet head was wrapped in a towel turban. She winced as I flicked on the lights.

“What time is it?” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Time to rise and shine.” The daughter’s revenge. How many times had these roles been reversed? “Would you like some coffee? How about scrambled eggs, nice runny ones?”

She groaned and staggered back down the hall. “Get things set up for me, will you? I think I’m going to be late.”

“Can’t. I’ve got an errand this morning. I told you last night. Remember? But I’ll be there in time for the viewing. Cross my heart.”

She whimpered and closed the door to her bedroom.

Ar-ar-ar-ar!

I found Billy in the kitchen. He had all four feet planted squarely, his head tilted back as far as he could without breaking his thick neck. His eyes bugged.

“Waaaaaanh!” Mrs. Bierstock was up near the fluorescent light.

It was clear that he could see her and he didn’t approve.

Ar-ar-ar-ar!

“Waaaaanh!”

I snatched the vociferous pug up off the floor. He squirmed, trying to get a better view of the ghost.

“Cut it out. You’ll wake the dead.” This made me giggle. “Okay, maybe not, but you’ll piss off Mother. If you keep barking at ghosts, you can’t go to work with me anymore.”

I set the coffeepot to brewing and went for my own shower.

* * * *

Biddle’s place was barricaded off with yellow crime-scene tape. True to Fierro’s prediction, neighbors had already gathered. Two news vans were ensconced across the street. The cameramen looked bored, stuffing their faces with breakfast sandwiches and checking watches.

“Isn’t this exciting?” said Mrs. Peeples. She hadn’t bothered to take the pink sponge rollers out of her hair, but she had powdered her face. “I always knew Old Man Biddle was a dangerous criminal.”