Your Magic Touch (2 page)

At least it was a reporting job and not a glamorized clerical position like some of her college classmates had been forced to take after graduation. “Yeah, well, working for
The Global Spy
was the best job I could get while I’m still in the MBA program, and I was darn lucky to get it. Plus the
Spy
pays well enough I can afford to do some of the things that are important to me.”

“Things like those mentioned in the article I read this morning in the
Boston Globe
—the paper you
should
be writing for?”

“Let me get out of school first.” Once she got her master’s degree, it should be easier to find a better job in journalism. “I’ve only got a few more months to go.”

Dan slowed to a stop at a red traffic light. “The article said Miss Anonymous arranged for the donation of land, seeds and tools to the homeless shelter. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, now, would you?”

“Who, me?”

“Just like you had nothing to do with the playground equipment at the daycare center or the truckload of books delivered to the abuse shelter?”

Frannie shrugged her shoulders. She was a philanthropist, so sue her. Maybe she didn’t have zillions of dollars, but what she had she found a way to stretch. “Don’t you think it’s nice the homeless will be able to grow their own food and maybe some flowers to give them something beautiful in their lives? Everyone should have a little patch of dirt to call their own.”

“Just like you always wanted.” Dan paused a moment, then added, “Marge and I are proud of you.”

He wasn’t the expressive type. Coming from him, this was a huge admission. It made her throat ache. “I couldn’t have had better parents. I love you both and I owe you—everything.”

She owed them more than everything. If they hadn’t taken her in and made room in their hearts for her, she’d have ended up like her birth mother—a drug addict. It had taken huge patience on the part of her foster family, and she never wanted to do anything to disappoint them or make them feel she hadn’t been worth their effort.

“Nah. Like we always told you, it was there inside you all along. All you needed was a safe place to grow some roots.”

“I’m like devil’s ivy. Now that I’m rooted, you can’t get rid of me.”

“Like we’d ever try? Since I’m playing ‘worried dad,’ I might as well go all out. Do you have everything you need? Do you need any cash? Did you pack a scarf? It probably gets windy in Newport.”

She loved the way he fussed over her as though he were her real dad. Frannie laughed as they pulled up to the station. “Considering it’s over eighty-five degrees, I doubt I’ll need anything more than the sweater I tossed in my bag, but, yes, I packed a scarf. I’ve got plenty of cash and lots of small bills in case I need them, just like you taught me. I even packed my stilettos in case a formal dinner should crop up unexpectedly.”

“You’re a good student.”

“It’s easy to be a good student when you’ve got a great teacher. You and Marge are the best. Give her a hug for me?”

“Of course. Don’t forget to call to let us know you arrived safely.”

“Will do.” Frannie leaned over and gave him a noisy smooch on the cheek, the kind of kiss Dan most liked. Then she slid out the passenger door. “See you in a few days!”

She waved as he drove off, then turned to enter Boston’s South station. Her boss, Harold Damore, had arranged for her to meet the three ghost hunters at the information booth in the bus terminal.

It took only a second for her to pick them out of the crowd. They looked like stereotypical nerdy scientists complete with pocket protectors and thick glasses. One, with masses of wild white hair, made her think of Einstein. The second one, at least in his sixties and silver haired, was still incredibly handsome, and reminded her of a very sad and slightly older George Clooney. A melancholy, aging hottie. The last one was overweight and balding, with chocolate-brown eyes that made her think of puppies. Interestingly, they all were older than she’d expected. She asked, “Are you the ghost hunters?”

“We’re the scientists. I’m Thomas Buick,” replied the wild-haired one. “You must be Frances Fielding.”

“Please, call me Frannie.” She quickly greeted the others.

“P-p-pleased to make your acquaintance,” Maury Ford stuttered timidly. His physique ran to the couch potato side, and based on the way he kept glancing nervously around, he appeared to be entirely uncomfortable in the crowded bus terminal.

The aging hunk introduced himself as Willie Jo Lexus. Lexus? What kind of last name was that, she wondered, as the group turned to head toward their bus.

They were intercepted by two goth teens, with spiked hair, tattoos and body piercings covering most of their exposed skin, and replete, of course, with black leather and lots and lots of studs. The shortest of the duo asked, “Can you tell me which way to go buy tickets?”

“It’s Hell’s Minions!” Maury, clearly terrified, darted behind Willie Jo and shrieked, “You told me they were only an old elves’ tale!”

The three ghost hunters began chanting, but Frannie couldn’t make out the words. Willie Jo threw something in the air that looked suspiciously like water. Maybe even Holy Water.

She shook her head. Leave it to Harold to provide her with lunatics for this assignment.

Had Harold, in his zeal to penetrate Haliday Hall, chosen bogus scientists or, more fittingly,
mad
scientists? These guys certainly fit
that
bill and had obviously been locked in their laboratory too long.

“They’re harmless,” she whispered as she pointed out the ticket booth to the goths. She wasn’t sure exactly whether she meant the teens or the ghost hunters were harmless. But the description seemed to fit either group—she hoped.

Thomas and Willie Jo calmed Maury, although they didn’t appear too reassured themselves. She supposed as ghost hunters they had been exposed to lots of woo-woo stuff, but Hell’s Minions was stretching it. Who didn’t know about goths?

Before long they waited in line to enter the bus that would take them to Newport, Rhode Island. The schedule indicated the trip would take just over an hour and a half, with three stops along the way. Harold could at least have hired a car for them, Frannie figured, but he was a tightwad at the best of times. She’d get back at him tonight, though, by having an especially extravagant dinner on her expense account. She smiled at her companions. “Do you like lobster?”

As they answered something about pizza and Chinese, she noticed movement to her left.

Hell’s Minions were walking in her direction.

She’d have to get the ghost hunters onto the bus fast, before they noticed that the teens would be their traveling companions. Frannie didn’t want to imagine how Maury would react.

If he was this scared of goths, how would he deal with ghosts?

As quickly as possible, she shooed them onto the bus. First Willie Jo, followed by Thomas and lastly Maury. However, as she moved to step onto the bus platform, one of the teens, now separated from his companion, jumped directly in her path and climbed aboard ahead of her.

Not on her watch. She grabbed the boy’s arm. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners? You’re supposed to wait at the
end
of the line.”

He shot her an “I don’t have to do what you say look” and stuck out his multi-studded tongue at her. He stuffed his ticket into the ticket receptacle and headed down the aisle.

Frannie could only hope the scientists had taken seats toward the rear of the bus and the goth boy would grab one near the front.

No such luck. The boy headed directly toward the back. She grabbed his arm again. “Excuse me. I need to catch up with my group.”

“Afraid to let them loose in public without their keeper?” he asked, not allowing her to step in front of him. “Chill.”

She wanted to chill all right. She wished she had the power to freeze him into place until she could get by. “Fine. If you want to send those guys chanting and screaming again, it’s on your head.”

He turned back and shot her a mischievous grin and, of course, he then headed directly toward where Maury had taken a seat, a few rows ahead. Just in front of Maury, on the aisle, was a cute little girl seated beside her mother.  Willie Jo and Thomas were in the row directly behind Maury, who had taken a window seat, leaving the aisle seat empty.

Goth boy deliberately baited Maury by sticking his backpack on the rack above Maury’s head. He was definitely up to no good. Maury, of course, cowered in fear, while the other two scientists started chanting again.

Frannie bumped goth boy with her hip. “That seat is taken.”

The teen shrugged and shot her an amused grin before continuing down the aisle, leaving his backpack over Maury’s head. Frannie stuck her carry-on into the overhead compartment, then plopped down beside Maury. He had squeezed his eyes shut and his body as far from the aisle as possible, giving the appearance of having become
one
with the side of the bus.

“It’s okay. He’s gone.”

Maury opened his eyes and straightened in his seat. “I hadn’t realized it had gotten this bad.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hell’s Minions walking around in public without using a disguise or cloak.”

“I really don’t think that boy is one of Hell’s Minions. You do know about goth, don’t you?”

He shook his head. “We—I don’t get out much.”

“It’s a trend, short for gothic. Tons of teenagers dress that way.”

Maury glanced between their seats, obviously looking for the teen. “A style trend? What happened to disco?”

Frannie snorted. “Man, you
don’t
get out much. Don’t you watch TV?”

“I’m fond of the Monster Mash Truck Channel. Do you watch it?”

“I haven’t caught that one.” Frannie searched for something to talk about, so this hour and a half ride wouldn’t be totally unbearable. “Do you think we’ll find any ghosts at Haliday Hall?”

“I’m sure i-i-if there are any, o-o-our equipment will pick them up.”

“What kind of equipment do you have?” She’d noticed each of the ghost hunters had carried matching black duffle bags, but had assumed their bags contained clothing. If they contained equipment, where was the rest of their things? Perhaps they’d checked their other luggage before meeting her.

“The usual. EMF meter, air ion counter, electromagnetic field gaussmeter and field tester, static field detector, field strength meter, G.E.I.S.T., MFD, Geiger counter, night vision goggles, voice-stress analyzer, tri-field meter, cameras, recorders and a few devices of our own.”

Frannie had no clue what those gadgets were, but she snatched her pen and notebook from her pocket and jotted down a few notes. She was careful to check the spelling with Maury. Spelling wasn’t one of her talents, but she was serious enough about her work to put in the extra effort on what didn’t come easily.

They launched into a discussion of the assorted equipment. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed until the bus driver jammed on the brakes at their first stop, jerking all the passengers and their luggage forward.

Frannie’s gaze was drawn to her carry-on in the overhead compartment. It wobbled and then tipped. If it fell, it would brain the cute little girl seated in front of Frannie. As the bus reared back, the bag wobbled again. Geez! Her heart hammered as her carry-on tipped over the side rail and began to fall. She jerked herself up to grab it.

But the bag righted itself, defying all known laws of gravity. She let out a relieved breath as she leaned back in her seat. Then, suddenly, the bag took flight again, flinging itself into the overhead compartment on the other side of the bus.

What the hell? Surely the bus’s motion couldn’t be helping out gravity that much. “Did you see that?”