Boo (22 page)

“If Lacey Steele can win back the love of her life, so can I,” Melb Cornforth whispered.

Oliver had been mulling over all that Missy Peeple had told him to do when he decided to take a lunch break. The Haunted Mansion’s special of the day was Grave Dirt—ground beef sautéed in onions, piled with marinated mushrooms, and topped off with a daisy.

He’d spent much of the week trying to find out who had witnessed to Boo. He’d made a list of suspects and began making inquiries. He had not gotten far. When he confronted Franny, the organist at church, she thought he was trying to sell her a car. When he talked to Dustin at the bookstore (a long shot, but worth a try), he left with three vampire novels and a book on the history of haunted houses. One by one his list was shrinking. But his stomach was not. So lunch it would be.

From his table Oliver studied Marlee Hampton and decided she might be someone who had witnessed to Boo. He’d seen her at church last Easter, and she
did
like to talk a lot. He would ask her about it when she returned with his Vampire Soda. Oliver looked around the room for other possibilities, and his eyes landed on Melb Cornforth, two tables over, eating Grave Dirt as well! She looked beautiful, though a little sad. He was trying to decide whether to go say hi when Marlee returned with his drink.

“Here you go,” Marlee said.

Oliver scratched his chin. How should he approach it? He remembered his need to be subtle. Perhaps … yes … perhaps he should act as if
he
needed converting. Just to see what she’d do. Brilliant!

“Marlee, I’m … lost.”

Marlee smacked her gum and regarded Oliver with concern. “You’re at The Haunted Mansion restaurant, Oliver. You know, where you usually get the Bacon Booger with a side of Creepy Corn, except on Saturdays when you get either Grave Dirt or Road Kill.” She chewed the tip of her pencil then said, “But hey, if you want to try something new, our other special today is the Ham from Hell.”

Oliver blushed a little, shook his head, and said, “No. I’ll take Grave Dirt. Extra ’shrooms.”

She smiled and wrote it down.

“Marlee?”

“Yes?”

“I’m … when I said I was lost … I meant … searching.”

“For what, your wallet? Do you, or don’t you, have money to pay for the meal, Ollie?”

Oliver swallowed and tried to sip his soda casually. “No, what I mean is … I might be, um, you know …” He sucked in air, feeling a trickle of sweat at the edge of his hairline. “I’m unhappy in life. I need something more.”

“Buy a car.”

“I own a car lot, Marlee. Not
material
things.”

“Ohhhhh.”
Marlee’s eyebrows rose, and she crossed her arms, eye-balling Oliver with great interest. “Oh. Oh. Oh. Oliver Stepaphanolopolis, you dog. I had no idea.”

Oliver’s expression grew sheepish. “Oh. Well, um … it’s an easy thing to hide, I guess. I’ve been living a lie.”

“I’ll say,” Marlee exclaimed. “You come in here at least three times a week and I never suspected a thing.”

He smiled a little. “You have probably seen me pray over my food, haven’t you? I was just faking it.”

Marlee scooted into the booth across from Oliver. “So what you’re saying is, when you bowed your head over your food, you were thinking of me?”

Oliver looked over at Melb, who
still
hadn’t noticed he was sitting there. “Uh … I was thinking of how empty my life is. How much I need the truth. How much I’m missing in my life. How lonely I am.”

Marlee’s hand cupped her chest right over her heart, and her head tilted to the side with an expression of pity. “Oh, Ollie. I had no idea. I wish you would’ve said something sooner.”

Oliver leaned across the table. “Marlee, tell me then, how? How do I go about … making my life complete?”

Marlee’s eyes teared up. “Are you saying … I complete you?”

Oliver frowned. No, he wasn’t saying
that
. “Can you help me?”

“Of course I can,” Marlee said with great care in her eyes. “All you have to do is ask.”

Oliver tried to suppress his anxiousness. Hadn’t he
just
asked? What was it with this woman? Did he have to cuss like a sailor before she realized she might need to dig into some religious terms? “Okay, then I’m asking, Marlee. What must I do?”

“Just ask,” she said again, her hand still across her heart.

His eyes narrowed, trying to find out exactly what she was missing. Maybe she hadn’t heard him right. He tried again. “Marlee, what must I do?”

Her hand dropped from her heart and her shoulders slouched a little. “Ollie, are you deaf? Ask! Just ask!”

“I am asking!”

“You keep saying ‘what must I do’?”

“And you keep saying, ‘Just ask.’ ”

Silence hovered over the table for a moment as they both stared at each other. Finally Marlee said, “Oh my gosh! You’ve never … This is your first time to …” She gasped and blushed. “Oliver, I’m sorry. This must be humiliating.”

Oliver bit his lip. Well, it was confusing at the very least. He shrugged. Marlee was still looking at him with empathetic eyes. “Marlee, I’ll ask one more time … what must I do to be saved?”

She grinned and said, “Oh, that’s so sweet. I’ve never heard it put like that, but if that’s how you feel most comfortable saying it, then, okay, Oliver Stepaphanolopolis, I
will go
out with you.”

“What?”

“Shocked that a girl of my beauty would say yes, Oliver? You should have more confidence in yourself, but frankly, most men don’t put it quite as dramatically as being saved … they usually just say, ‘Will you go out with me?’ ”

The palms of his hands dampened as if he’d just soaked them in a tub of water. He felt the blood drain from his face, and his toes started to tingle. “No … no, I meant … Marlee … I’m sorry, I meant …”

Her face bunched up with protest. “You meant
what
?”

“I was trying to … I mean … I wasn’t—” Oliver’s stomach lurched. “Are you dumping me? You just asked me out!”

“But I—”

“What a freak!” She stood. Everyone turned to watch, including Melb. “What are you, some kind of freak? You freak! You
freak!
”

“Marlee … shush!” He waved his hands for her to sit down.

“Did you
not
just sit here and tell me you were lost … and that you were in need of someone to fulfill your life … and that you were searching for meaning …” She gestured toward the crowd. “That you were
lonely?
”

“Well, yes …” Oliver caught Melb’s interested eyes. “No …”

“That you need a
savior?!
”

He glanced back at Marlee. “Yes, but—”

“What do I look like? Mad Cow Meatloaf?!”

A low murmur swept through the restaurant. Oliver looked up at Marlee, whose eyes were wide, and whose arm was still flung out into the air. She waited, as if she actually expected a reply.

Almost too afraid to answer, Oliver muttered, “No.”

Her hands dropped, and she stared down at him with disgust. “I’ve got customers waiting.” She stomped off, and Oliver slid down in his booth. He breathed a sigh of relief, at least thankful the dramatics were over. He glanced one more time over at Melb, who was trying unsuccessfully not to stare. Oh! He’d just ruined everything! How was he supposed to ask Melb out now that she’d seen him apparently ask Marlee out?

He pulled out the list from his breast pocket and a pen from his pants pocket, then drew a line through a name at the top. He knew one thing for sure. Marlee Hampton
was not
the culprit.

T
HE MAYOR TREMBLED
as he paced the slick wood floors of his mayor’s mansion, which wasn’t more than three thousand square feet but had a gaudy exterior to make it seem like something special. Missy studied him for a moment to determine his state of mind. She never minded gazing at the mayor. No one knew how long she’d loved this man. For years she had plotted and plodded her way closer to his heart. Now she had him right where she wanted him. Weak. Vulnerable. And needing a shoulder to cry on. Not to mention someone to save his bacon. Plus she was saving the town of Skary at the same time. Her brilliance was amazing.

As was her timing. Missy knew Alfred Tennison hadn’t been gone from this house for more than thirty minutes when she dropped in for a chat. He’d spilled the beans to a woman he trusted, thanks to years of slightly questionable tactics.

“Mayor, you’re distraught.”

“Of course I’m distraught!” he said. “Who wouldn’t be!” He sat on his leather couch and buried his face in his hands. “Who would’ve told that man of this? Who? I didn’t think anyone knew!”

Missy joined him on the couch. “Do you really think the town will take it as hard as you imagine they will?”

He shook his head and stared at the carpet. “It will devastate them. And humiliate me. Not to mention put Martin in an awkward position. I’m ruined.”

“Not so fast, deary. There is yet hope.”

“Hope? What kind of hope? A man claiming to be Wolfe Boone’s editor is here writing a story about Skary and digging up all its dirt. All its buried skeletons. Of which mine is the dirtiest skeleton of all. How can I stop him? He already knows.”

Missy’s voice was low and soothing. “Do you know
why
he’s writing this book?”

“He said people would be interested in our little town.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. Dear Mayor, he’s writing this book because he’s lost Wolfe Boone as a writer, and he needs the money.”

“Lost Wolfe Boone?”

“Surely you’ve heard.” Missy watched his eyes. It seemed to register, ever so slowly. “Yes, you see, Boo has found the faith and therefore, we presume, will stop writing horror novels.”

“And?”

“Don’t you see? If Wolfe were to return to writing horror novels, then Mr. Tennison wouldn’t have to write a tell-all book about Skary. Life would be back the way it was … the way it should be. For him. For Skary.”

She saw by the mayor’s eyes that he was starting to catch on. “Why would he go back to writing horror novels?” he asked as he turned away, pretending to be interested in something on his bookshelf.

“Oh, dear, I don’t know. There are many reasons people backslide.”

“Backslide?”

“Why sure. It means—”

“I know what it means.”

“Some enter into sin. Others grow bored. For some it’s just a passing phase.” She paused, letting these suggestions settle a bit before saying, “And for some, well, the burden becomes too difficult.”

He turned back. “Burden.”

“Why certainly. Thou shalt not covet. Cut off your hand if it makes you stumble. Forgive others a bazillion times. Things like that. You know, Mayor, the things
you and I
take seriously.”

One of the mayor’s eyebrows rose with steely determination. “Yes, I see what you mean.”

She grinned at him while studying his picture-perfect features. “I thought you would.”

A
FEW DAYS
had passed since their lunch, but not one of them without a phone conversation with Wolfe. She felt as if she were in high school again. They’d had long conversations, sometimes about nothing in particular. She’d lie on her bed, feet in the air, her eyes closed, thinking of what he might be doing while talking to her.

They’d agreed by mid-week to go out again on Friday. They stopped for a quaint lunch at a small café just outside town that Ainsley adored. Wolfe said the rest of the date was a surprise. After lunch, she got into his car, and to her astonishment, they drove to a movie theater.

“A movie?”

“Yeah.” He cut the Jeep’s engine and quickly got out of the car, nearly hopping over the hood to open her door before she could. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Ainsley said, looking up at the kiosk. She hadn’t been to a movie in ages. In fact, she never even knew anymore what movies were playing. She watched Wolfe close the car door, wondering if the movie would be a romance. Or maybe a historical drama. Her heart warmed at the idea of how much fun she was having. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this way. And she was glad she decided to wear the perfume again.

“It’s turned out to be a beautiful day,” he said. “Maybe going inside a dark movie theater isn’t the best idea.”

“It’s perfect. What movie are we going to see?”

She noticed his Adam’s apple bulge slightly. “It’s called
Bloody Thursday
.”