Boo (15 page)

The house looked old and creepy at night. It always had. It loomed over the little town and even had two windows that, when lit, resembled two large eyes.

An old gravel road led up to a small grassy knoll and a few cement steps, which led to a short path and the wooden porch steps. The porch light was dim, and Ainsley had trouble finding her way through the darkness.

The porch steps creaked, causing Ainsley to stop in her tracks and second-guess her decision to come and visit Wolfe Boone. Why was she here? She could’ve just as easily written a kind note and stuck it in the mail. Staring up at the old house, she felt her heart beat wildly. Was it
the creepiness of this old house, or the anticipation of something else? How she wished she could read the signs of her own heart.

She made her way up two more steps and then to the front door. A heavy brass knocker reflected the porch light and her own small and timid looking self. She stood up straighter, took in a breath of courage, and knocked.

She heard footfalls on what sounded like a hardwood floor, and then the door opened. Wolfe Boone stood, backlit from the inside lights, staring down at her in astonishment. All she could do was stare back.

“Hi,” he managed with a smile.

“How are you?”

“Fine,” he replied. “Can I, uh, help you?”

She tried to peek around him, to get a glimpse of what this haunted mansion might look like on the inside. She figured a few axes would be hanging from the ceiling, but his big frame wouldn’t allow even a tiny look.

“I’m here to … to … to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“Yes. For the book. That was so incredibly kind of you.” Ainsley tried to suppress her emotions. “My aunt died Friday. I had a chance to read it to her before she died, and it meant the world to her. And to me.”

Even backlit, Ainsley could see Wolfe’s features soften. “You’re very welcome. I’m so sorry she died.”

“It was expected,” Ainsley said. “But not easy.”

Wolfe shuffled his feet and then said, “Would you like to come in?”

Ainsley hesitated. Would she like to come in?
Would she?
It wouldn’t have been a difficult question coming from anyone but Wolfe Boone. “Umm …”

“It’s kind of cold out there.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, you want to come in?”

“No.”

“No, you don’t want to come in?”

“No, I mean, yeah, it’s cold out here.” She tried to smile. “I’m sorry.
That was a simple question.” She held her breath for a moment. “Sure. I’ll come in. But just for a minute.”

“Great,” he said. “Do you mind taking your shoes off?”

“My shoes?” Her mind reeled with thoughts of why she should take her shoes off. Maybe he practiced some strange demonic ritual. Or maybe he thought the ground she stood on was sacred in some way. Was the house built on top of a cemetery? Why in the world would she need to take her shoes off? She felt her neck dampen.

“I’ve got two dogs. At night it’s hard to see where they take their bathroom breaks in the yard. Plus all those crazy cats don’t help.”

“Oh.” Ainsley slipped off each shoe. “Sure.”

“Come on in.” He opened the door wider. A few feet away, two noble-looking German shepherds sat near the living room, wagging their tails. “This is Goose and Bunny.”

She smiled at the dogs and they seemed to smile back, as if they recognized her. She looked at Wolfe and pointed to the dogs. “I’m surprised they’re not barking.”

Wolfe was taking her coat. “Well, they’re very smart dogs. They only bark when they sense evil. That’s something unique about shepherds. Some of them can sense evil.”

“Oh.” Ainsley watched as Wolfe took her coat and scarf and hung them up in the coat closet. She’d never once seen a man do that. She looked around the house. It was decorated with warm, strong colors, but it wasn’t in-your-face masculine. The furniture looked expensive, as did the tile and the rugs. She was amazed. On the inside it looked like a house out of
Architectural Digest
. She sauntered into the living room, grazing her hand against a vase with flowers.
Fresh
flowers!

His artwork was hung carefully, and he had just enough knick-knacks to make the room comfortable but not junky. A bookshelf cram-packed with hundreds of books lined one wall. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and the whole house smelled of pine.

Ainsley was speechless. Even in her wildest imagination, she had never thought this house would look
 … normal
.

“Please, sit down,” he said, and she sat on the couch while he sat in
an overstuffed leather chair with an ottoman, one that looked to be his favorite by the way it was slightly worn.

“Your house is nice,” she said simply, hoping not to sound shocked.

“Thanks,” he shrugged. “I spend a lot of time here.”

“You could use a few fall flowers out front.” She shrugged and grinned. “Or maybe a couple of potted plants.”

“Thanks. I’ll try to remember that,” he said lightheartedly. The kind of silence that fills the room when there’s so much to say and not enough guts to say it rang in Ainsley’s ears like chimes in the wind. She had just decided to compliment the fact that he liked to use his coat closet
and
had fresh flowers when a loud siren shattered the peace.

“What is that?” Ainsley shouted over the noise.

The dogs started howling, but Wolfe almost sat motionless, as if he didn’t hear the sound at all. Then she noticed the small bead of sweat dripping down his temple, which led her to the tense look on his face.

“What is it?” she shouted again.

“It’s the smoke alarm.” He jumped up. “I think we have a fire.”

Very few things frightened Missy Peeple, but one of them was how quickly she could devise a plan. As she sat there in her rocker, entertaining the suave but greedy Mr. Alfred Tennison, her entire plan came together so brilliantly, so perfectly, that she could do nothing but stand there in awe of herself for a moment.

But she didn’t let the admiration last long. She hated to keep Mr. Tennison waiting.

“A book, you say?”

She could see his mind churning the idea as if it were sweet butter. She said, “Why certainly. A biography of the town made famous by a famous writer. The ins and outs of how a man like Wolfe Boone relates to the people of a small town. And how they relate to him. The history of how a nothing town became a famous tourist stop. And then there are the strange, unexplainable things that make this town even more mysterious.”

“What do you mean?”

“The cats.”

“The cats?”

“Sir, haven’t you noticed all the cats running around this town?”

Mr. Tennison nodded. “Yes, as a matter of fact I did notice. They seem to be everywhere.”

“Well, perhaps Mr. Boone made Skary famous, but Skary has given Mr. Boone a few story ideas too.”

His eyes widened.
“Black Cats?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?”

Mr. Tennison smiled a little. “I’ve never asked Wolfe where he got that idea.” He pulled out a pad and very expensive looking pen and began jotting notes.

“So you see how brilliant this is? You write a book that makes you famous, about a man you made famous.” Missy smiled studiously at him. “And you get really rich.”

“I like how you think.”

“That’s just the icing on the cake.”

“Oh?”

“It’ll give you an excuse.”

“An excuse?”

“Mr. Tennison, as much as you may think this plan is about you, it isn’t. It’s about the town of Skary and how to save it from utter destruction. You see, like you, we’re doomed if Mr. Boone stops writing his books. What is Skary without a horror novelist? Just another dumb town with a dumb spelling of a name.”

“I don’t understand.”

Missy Peeple moved to a spot next to him on the sofa. She sat down and scooted toward him, which for some reason seemed to unnerve him.

“It will give you an excuse to stick around Skary. And convince your most famous author that he has no choice but to continue to write. I don’t care whether you write that book or not, you see. I’m concerned with one thing and one thing only.”

Mr. Tennison eased away from her, then stood. “All right.”

“I’m glad you agree, because, you see, you have no choice.”

“Oh?”

“I’m the one that knows everything about everyone in this town. Your book would be nothing without the juice I have. You need me and I need you. You see how conveniently this works out.”

“Yes.”

“But let’s get one thing straight. You need me
more
than I need you.”

Mr. Tennison shook his head and laughed a bit. “You are quite the bully, aren’t you?”

“I will give you information as it fits into my plan. And you will use it according to my purpose. When I’m done with you, then you can write your silly little book and make yourself a lot of money. But first things first. We get Wolfe back.”

“No arguments from me.”

She smiled graciously and said, “Good then. Let me begin by telling you about our mayor. Wullisworth is his name. A good mayor. Quite handsome, too. And like you, Mr. Tennison, he is quite fond of money.”

They managed to put out the fire without an extinguisher, but by then choking smoke had filled the entire kitchen. Ainsley waved a dishtowel in the air and opened kitchen windows as fast as she could. Wolfe tried to look busy doing
something
, but he was clueless. And now he had an even bigger problem.

The smoke cleared enough for them to see each other and the black and crispy items that lay in the skillet in the sink.

Still waving the dish towel in the air, Ainsley said, “Hmmm. What was to be for dinner?”

“Pork chops,” Wolfe sighed, joining her at the sink to look at the mishap.

“Two pork chops,” she said. “Were you expecting someone?”

He smiled down at her. “Well, certainly not you, but I wish I could have made a better impression of my cooking skills.”

She grinned, then suddenly her face turned solemn and worried. “Um … were you cooking for a … a … date?”

He laughed. “A date? No. For heaven’s sake, no. I haven’t had a date in …” He stopped himself. He was already looking foolish. No need to look desperate, too. He jabbed the pork chops with a fork sitting nearby. “No, this was for Reverend Peck. I was having him over for dinner tonight.” He glanced up at the clock near the stove. “And it looks like we’re going to have to do takeout.” Staring down at the two black pieces of meat he said, “There’s not a chance these can be saved, is there?”

Ainsley laughed. “I don’t think so, unless you were planning on serving something close to pork jerky.”

“Well, I hope the reverend likes pizza.”

Ainsley looked around the kitchen. “We can pull something together.”

A grin spread across his lips.
We
. He liked the sound of that. “I don’t know. I mean, fried pork chops was a big attempt for me. Serves me right for trying to get fancy.” He shrugged. “I don’t have too much to work with here. I definitely don’t have two more pork chops.”

She went to the refrigerator, peeked inside, said, “Hmm,” and then went to the pantry, stuck her head in, said another “hmm” and then turned to him. “No problem.”

“Really?”

“How much time do we have?”

Wolfe glanced at the clock. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Perfect.” She started toward the refrigerator, then stopped and turned back toward him. “I’m sorry. I’m totally taking over. I do this in a kitchen. I think I own every stove within twenty miles of myself.”

“Are you kidding? My other choice is to order pizza and look like the worst host ever.”

She smiled and then gathered a few ingredients from the refrigerator. Wolfe stood back and watched in awe as she began to prepare the food.

“I do have one demand.”

“Demand?” she asked, chopping the tomato without even looking.

“Yes. That you stay for dinner. That’s the only way I’ll let you save my behind.”

She laughed, then moved her knife to the mushrooms. But she didn’t answer. She glanced over her shoulder though and smiled.

Wolfe smiled too, then leaned against the counter and watched the chef in action. He’d never seen anyone make food look more appealing in his life.