The Gravedigger's Brawl (12 page)

When Ash returned to him, Wyatt showed him the papers. “All of the lots were bought by the same person. A French doctor.”

Ash raised an eyebrow at him.

A man came up beside Wyatt and leaned over the bar. “Got a light?” he asked Ash suggestively.

Wyatt turned his head toward the flirting patron as Ash reached into his pocket and produced a lighter. He tried to analyze his jealousy as he watched Ash light the man's cigarette.

“You'll need to take it to the patio,” Ash said with a jerk of his head toward the door. The man thanked him and left, looking downcast for having his advances ignored.

Wyatt peered at Ash and tried to hide his smile.

“Go on,” Ash said, completely oblivious.

“Where was I?”

“The French doctor. You think it was LaLaurie?”

“Dr. Louis LaLaurie, yeah. I mean, in the 1830s, if you have a medical degree, you're not just going to close up shop and thumb your nose at the income, you know?”

“Especially if they had to leave all their possessions and wealth in New Orleans.”

“You're beginning to see my point.”

“Grudgingly,” Ash said, his lips twitching into a smile.

Wyatt grinned, unable to hide his excitement. Not only was Ash tolerating his presence and listening to him, but he also seemed to be enjoying it a little.

“So, what, he built a practice here?” Ash asked. He glanced over to see Delilah holding the house phone and signaling frantically. “Hold that thought.”

Wyatt nodded and watched him go.

Ash strolled to the other end of the bar and Delilah put the phone to his ear. She didn't relinquish it, so they stood holding the receiver together, looking like little kids sharing a set of headphones.

They listened for a few moments, then began talking animatedly with each other and into the phone. Delilah finally shook her head and began backing away, leaving the phone dangling in Ash's hand. Ash reached for the towel on his shoulder and used it to swat at her.

Wyatt frowned as he watched the little comedy unfold. Their actions were amusing on the surface, but he got the feeling that the phone call wasn't all good news.

Ash talked for several more moments, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he went to the cash register and scrounged up a pen and paper. He began writing, glancing up at Wyatt as he did so. Wyatt's stomach wrenched; he knew by the look in Ash's eyes that their night was over.

Ash soon hung up the phone and tore off the note he had written. He walked back to Wyatt and placed the note in front of him. “That was Noah. He said he needs a ride home, his bike is a no-go.”

“I can get him,” Wyatt said with a reluctant nod. He began gathering his documents.

“He's on the Pocahontas Parkway. He said it was dark and scary and he's freaked out about ghost Indians getting him,” Ash said with a smirk.

Wyatt laughed. “Are these directions?”

“Yeah.” Ash huffed. “I also put the number to the bar there, in case you get lost. You got a phone?” he asked as he took out his cell phone.

Wyatt contemplated saying he didn't, just so he could take Ash's and have a reason to come back. But he couldn't do it. He nodded instead and patted his pocket. “Shouldn't be too hard to find him.” He folded the note and slid it into his pocket.

“Thanks. Tell him I'm sorry; Caleb's not here tonight so neither of us can really leave.”

“He'll understand.” Wyatt placed the documents into the bag and looked up, freezing when he met Ash's eyes.

Ash gave him a small smile. “When you have time to finish your story, give me a call.”

Wyatt blinked at him. “I uh . . . I don't have your number.”

Ash met his eyes for a few tense moments before taking Wyatt's hand and pulling it across the bar. He wrote a number on Wyatt's wrist. His grip was warm, and Wyatt knew Ash could feel his pulse racing. He didn't know if this was a second chance or just a peace offering, but either way it felt good.

Wyatt was still staring at Ash when he released his hand. “Thanks,” he whispered.

Ash nodded, a smile playing at his lips as he began clearing up the glasses. “See you around,” he said, and moved away.

Neither Noah nor Wyatt ever called the bar to tell them what happened, and Ash was annoyed and worried by the end of the night. He was also annoyed by the fact that despite everything, he still found himself thinking about Wyatt.

He had to admit, if given the chance again, he would still take Wyatt home. Likely tie him to the bed this time to make sure he didn't bolt, but take him home nonetheless.

“Hey!” Ryan called from across the room.

Ash looked up, startled out of his thoughts and embarrassed to have been caught staring into the void. Ryan had come in late that evening to help out after he'd called and learned that Caleb wasn't there. Where Caleb was, no one really knew. But as the boss, it was his priority to not show the fuck up for work whenever he wanted.

“What?”

“Closing time, bitch,” Ryan said with relish as he sauntered over to the door and turned the handmade wooden “Closed” sign around.

Ash snorted and opened the hidden electrical panel next to the back mirror. He switched off the power to the outside lights and the sound system, then closed the panel door again. It made a hollow sound as it secured.

Delilah was stacking chairs on the tables. “Caleb told me that someone's coming tomorrow to take the fridge upstairs away.”

Ash nodded, wiping down the bar distractedly. That damn refrigerator had been more trouble than it was worth. They had to have one upstairs, though, to store all that beer. Ash was glad it had died, regardless. He had been questioning his sanity. Ever since Ryan had unplugged it, they hadn't heard any tapping or banging from upstairs.

“They having a new one delivered?” Ash asked as he tossed some used napkins into the trash.

“A big one. They're doing all the lifting, so you guys don't have to worry about anything but letting them in,” Delilah answered. She began sweeping up half-heartedly.

“Oh, thank Christ,” Ryan grumbled as he gathered glasses. “I could just see myself hauling that thing up those steps on my back.”

Ash snorted and shook his head. He heard the “clink” sound of the panel closing again and looked over at it with a frown. It was still closed, and when he stepped over to it and gave it a poke, it didn't move.

“What are you doing?” Ryan asked.

Ash shrugged one shoulder and reached for the broom in the corner, staring at the panel a moment longer. “Nothing.”

They cleaned up quickly and efficiently, their routine well-practiced, all three of them ready to go home and sleep—or whatever it was Delilah did with her time because she was a hopeless insomniac. When they were done inside, they gathered their belongings, shrugged into their coats, and went outside to tilt the chairs on the patio against the tables.

When they finished, Ryan surveyed the façade of the building to make certain everything looked closed up and suitably spooky. He nodded in satisfaction. “Lilahbelle, how far are you parked?”

“Far enough I won't turn down a big strong man to walk me there,” Delilah said with a wry twist to her lips. Ash rolled his eyes. He knew she could take care of herself because he'd seen her do it, but she enjoyed playing the maiden every now and then. And the furtive dalliance Delilah and Ryan had been trying to hide for the last three months was old news. She looped her arm through Ryan's.

“Lead the way then, milady. See you tomorrow, Ashcake,” Ryan said. They shook hands and hugged, then Ash gave Delilah a kiss on the cheek. Ryan and Delilah began making their way around the corner of the building toward the small parking lot behind the bar.

Ash started to walk away as well when he heard the faint, eerie sound of classical
music
coming from inside the bar. He stopped short and looked up at the darkened windows, frowning.

“Hey guys!” he said, his voice coming out a harsh whisper. Ryan and Delilah stopped and turned, and Ash pointed to the door.

“What?”

“Shhh! Listen.”

Ryan cocked his head and frowned.

“What is that?” Delilah whispered, breath frosting in front of her. “Music?”

“What the hell?” Ryan dug into his pocket for his keys and unlocked the door. Ash and Delilah were right on his heels. Gravedigger's wasn't often the target of pranks or vandalism no matter what was going on in the neighborhood, mainly because everyone knew that Caleb wouldn't bother going to the police to resolve incidents. He and his staff took care of things on their own. But occasionally a stupid kid would think he was brave and try to get in.

They all stopped short and stared into the dark room. It was creepy in here without lights or people. It didn't look like a tavern, full of life and personality. It just looked like a creepy old house. The music was louder inside, but it didn't seem to be coming from the speakers. Ash knew he had turned those off. He thought he had, anyway. Hadn't he?

The sound of a tortured violin seemed to be filtering up from the floor and through the walls, but it was distant, as if it were coming from very far below. It began to fade as Ryan took another tentative step into the room.

Ash realized he had heard the song before, but he couldn't remember its name or where he'd heard it. The haunting melody still somehow retained a quick tempo.

“You turned off the sound system, right?” Ryan asked as the music grew weaker.

“Yeah, I cut the power to it.”

The music faded until it was gone and Ash and Ryan were left standing there, frowning and unsettled.

“Well?” Delilah asked from behind them, and they both jumped at the sound of her voice.

“Don't do that!” Ash said.

“Do what?”

“Sneak up on us.”

“I've been right here!”

“Get in here,” Ryan said.

“Fuck no.”

“What?”

She pulled her coat sleeve up and held out her arm to show them the hairs standing on end. “This is some freaky shit.”

Ash nodded. Ryan groaned at both of them.

“Should we check it out?” Ash asked.

Ryan inhaled noisily and seemed to hold his breath as he listened. “Yeah.”

“Really?”

Ryan gave him a look and Ash shrugged. He didn't mind admitting that he was freaked out.

“Wait, don't leave me here alone,” Delilah said as she hopped into the room and grabbed the back of Ash's shirt.

“Oh, now you're the helpless girl?”

“The smart ones are scared when necessary. Shut up.”

They moved together into the bar, staying close to each other. Everything was as they'd left it, though. Ryan went to the power grid and checked to make certain the power was off. The distinctive sound of the panel shutting made Ash shiver.

“Off?”

Ryan turned around “Off.”

Ash moved to the door that led to the kitchen and pushed it open, flicking on the lights. It was empty and spotless. There had been a fire in the kitchen over the summer that had prompted the extensive renovations. Ash was relieved to see all that stainless steel gleaming in the light. There was nothing eerie about stainless steel.

He walked to the back door and checked it, noting that the dead bolt was still turned and the chain was still latched. He turned to find Ryan watching him. He shrugged, and Ryan peered around the room. Delilah followed, scowling at everything.

“It's a ghost,” she said.

Ryan sighed. “Seriously, Crazytrain, that's not helping.” He walked over to the long stainless steel shelf above the stoves and tapped the old radio that sat there. It began blaring classical music. Ash and Delilah jumped and grabbed each other as if they might be able to save themselves by clinging. Ash grunted and looked away in exasperation as the music stopped again. Ryan gave it another tentative poke and it blared to life once more before shutting off.

Ash wriggled away from Delilah and walked over to put his finger on one of the speakers, nudging it. The DJ's soothing nighttime voice emitted from the radio, vibrating Ash's finger.

“And you've been listening to ‘La Danse Macabre' by—”

Ash removed his finger and the radio silenced once more. He and Ryan looked at each other. “The dance of death unites us all,” Ryan said.

Delilah smacked him on the arm as she stomped out of the kitchen.

“What? It's not my fault!”

“It's always your fault!” Delilah called from the other room.

Ryan reached up and removed the radio's batteries. He tossed them into the trash and growled at them, then flicked off the lights as he left the kitchen.

Ash took a step to follow out of the kitchen, and from the corner of his eye he caught a shadow moving, as if someone had stepped onto the back porch and was looking through the door.

He whirled around, but found himself staring at his own opaque reflection in the glass of the door. He was breathing hard once more and his heart was pounding, but he knew he was just letting himself get carried away. The streetlight outside flickered and then returned to full power as he stood there trying to calm himself.