Read Dummy of a Ghost (Novella) (Ghost of Granny Apples) Online
Authors: Sue Ann Jaffarian
Dummy of a Ghost (Novella) (Ghost of Granny Apples) (7 page)
Emma’s cell phone rang, interrupting their further discussions about how much to tell Edgar and Chris about Doug and Shirley. Emma glanced at the display. She answered the call, spoke to someone, and jotted something down on a notepad, repeating a phone number.
“That was my office,” she told Kelly and Granny. “Sylvia Doxson called and left a message for me to call her. The receptionist said she sounded very distraught.” Emma started dialing the number she’d been given. Everyone held their breaths waiting for the call to be picked up. Finally, Emma ended the call. “It just rings and rings and there’s no voicemail.”
Kelly stood up and went to Emma. “What should we do, Mom?”
“It will take at least thirty minutes to get over there.” Like a commander on the battlefield, Emma started handing out orders. “Granny, go back over there and see what’s going on. Kelly, get some shoes on. I’ll grab my bag and car keys from the kitchen counter and close up everything.”
“Should I leave a note for Grandma and Grandpa?” Kelly asked.
“Yes, but just tell them we went out. I don’t want to worry them.”
Less than two minutes later, Kelly and Emma were on their way back to Encino. “Did you bring your cell phone?” Emma asked Kelly.
“Yes, it’s in my bag.” As if showing evidence, Kelly lifted her handbag from the floor of the vehicle.
“Good,” Emma told her. “Call Chris and ask him to check on Ms. Doxson as quick as he can.”
Kelly placed the call. “There’s no answer,” she reported. “It went to voicemail after four rings.”
Emma pressed her foot harder against the gas pedal. Weaving in and out of the midday traffic, she passed one vehicle after another in her quest to reach Encino.
“Careful, Mom,” Kelly warned. “If you get stopped for speeding, it will just take longer.”
Emma didn’t slow down. “It’s a chance I’ll take,” she said, not looking at Kelly. “Something is seriously wrong. I can feel it.”
Kelly shivered at her mother’s words, knowing her instincts were usually spot-on.
“I wish I had Edgar’s cell number,” Kelly said after trying to reach Chris again. She left one voicemail after another and texted him, saying it was an emergency. Remembering something, she pulled the business card Chris had given her for Mayfair Puppetry out of her bag. On it was a different number. “Maybe this is it,” she said hopefully to her mother. She dialed the number on the card and only received a different voicemail. It was Edgar’s voice saying she’d reached Mayfair Puppetry and to please leave a message.
They were closing in on their destination when Granny popped into the vehicle. “What’s going on?” Emma asked the ghost. “Did you see Ms. Dobson?”
“Yeah. She’s safe and sound on her porch with her binoculars, but very agitated. She’s mumbling something to herself over and over and not taking her eyes off Chris and Edgar’s place.”
“Did you go over there to see if anything’s wrong?” Kelly asked.
“It’s the same as when I left it except that Edgar’s not in the workshop anymore. He’s watching that Judy girl and Chris work with their puppets. In fact, it looks like they’re almost done. I overheard them talking about going out for a bite to eat.”
“What about Doug and Shirley?”
“I saw them briefly and they said everything’s been hunky-dory.”
“What about the ghost in the yard?” asked Emma.
“No sign of him,” Granny reported. “I’m not sure what Snoop Dog is yammering about. Maybe the wheels are finally coming off her wagon.”
Emma shook her head. “If Ms. Doxson is there, why isn’t she answering her phone?”
“It’s in the house,” Granny said. “It’s not like those ones you carry around. She probably can’t hear it.”
Frustrated, Emma glanced at the clock in the dashboard. “We’ll be there in about ten minutes if this traffic cooperates. Granny, why don’t you go back and make sure everything stays hunky-dory.”
The ghost gave Emma a crisp salute. “You got it, Chief.”
“Take my phone and try Ms. Doxson again,” Emma told Kelly.
Kelly picked up the phone from the console where Emma had stored it. Hitting redial, she called Sylvia Doxson. “Nothing,” she said after letting it ring many times.
They were less than five minutes from their destination when Granny popped back in. “Step on it,” she ordered Emma.
“What’s wrong?” Kelly asked, her eyes wide.
“I know why Snoop Dog is upset,” the ghost said in a rush of worry. “The burglar’s back.”
“Are you sure?” asked Emma.
“That’s what Snoopy was mumbling about and looking at the whole time. As soon as the guys and Judy left the house, this guy got out of his car from down the road and started for the house. I don’t know how long he’d been there, but I’ll bet she called you when she first saw him.”
“Do you know if she called the police?” asked Emma, keeping her eyes on the road, her hands gripping the steering wheel as if willing the car to go faster.
Granny shook her head. “If she did, it wasn’t while I was there. And who knows if they’d believe her?”
Kelly fidgeted in her seat. “Did you see the guy go into the house?”
“I saw him go around the back and followed him. He hopped the wall with no trouble. Doug and Shirley are there and they recognize him as the same guy who broke in before.”
“Where’s Pugsley?” asked Kelly.
“He went with the guys.”
Emma shook her head. “It’s like he was watching them, knowing they might leave and take the dog this time.”
“When I left,” Granny added, “he was trying to get into the house through the back doors.”
“Call the police,” Emma told Kelly. “Tell them a burglary is in progress at that address. Use my phone.”
Kelly nodded and placed the call to 9-1-1.
“Granny,” Emma started to say.
“I’m gone already,” said the ghost and disappeared.
When they got to Chris and Edgar’s the police weren’t there yet but Granny was. The diminutive ghost was in the road jumping up and down and waving her arms. “Call 9-1-1 again, Kelly,” Emma ordered as she brought the SUV to a stop in front of the house. “Get an ambulance here.”
Emma shot out of the driver’s side and ran over to Granny where she hovered by a fallen wheelchair. Sylvia Doxson was sprawled at the edge of the driveway, dumped out of her chair like a sack of potatoes. Emma knelt next to the old woman and checked her vital signs.
“I think she’s still alive,” said Granny.
“Yes,” confirmed Emma. “She’s unconscious but breathing.”
There was a long, nasty gash on Snoop Dog’s head by her hairline. Blood, thick and oozing fast, was seeping through her thin white hair. Emma slipped out of the cotton cardigan sweater she was wearing and pressed it again the wound to stop the bleeding.
“The guy got away,” Granny reported. “Snoop Dog wheeled over and confronted him as he was leaving, the little fool. He knocked her on the head with something, a brick I think, then pushed her over before taking off.”
The police arrived about the same time as the ambulance. Kelly, still trying Chris’s phone, finally got a call back from him.
“Come home, Chris,” she said in a rush. “Your house has been broken into.”
“I feel so bad about Snoop Dog,” said Chris, his head in his hands. He looked up apologetically. “I mean Ms. Doxson.”
They were sitting in the living room. The police had taken statements and dusted for prints. Sylvia Doxson had been taken to the hospital. The police said they would try to locate and contact any family she might have.
“But why?” Chris moaned, tears coming down his face. “Why did they have to destroy Doug and Shirley?”
Judy Jump sat next to Chris on one of the love seats, a hand on his shoulder. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s all my fault,” said Edgar, his own face wet. He was standing by the fireplace. Around him the artwork on the wall hung in shreds or was smashed to the floor. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “They were clearly after my stuff. My work. Doug and Shirley were my creations and they obviously knew it.”
The workshop had also been vandalized. The rest of the house—the bedroom, baths, kitchen, and dining room—had not been touched. The vandal had made a point of only going after the art and puppets. The only other damage was to the glass by the doorknob of one of the French doors. The invader had broken the window to reach in and unlock the door.
“You were right,” Chris said, looking at Edgar. “We should have gone to the police in the first place.”
“You didn’t get that knot on your head from falling, did you, Chris?” asked Emma, who was sitting on the other love seat with Kelly.
Chris shook his head. “Someone broke in. It was probably the same guy. We think he was here before that, too.”
Emma looked from Chris to Edgar. “Those broken pieces in your workshop, they didn’t fall when you tripped, did they?”
Now it was Edgar’s turn to shake his head. “Someone broke into the workshop, but we think when the police showed up it scared him off before he could do any serious damage.”
“So Mrs. Doxson was right,” Kelly said. “She had seen someone hop the wall that day.”
“Why didn’t you tell the police that when they investigated her call?” asked Emma.
Edgar and Chris exchanged another look.
“Okay, boys,” Emma said, losing her patience. “Stop the secrecy. A woman is in the hospital. It’s time to come clean.”
“Edgar wanted to tell the police, but I wouldn’t let him,” Chris said, looking at Edgar, then quickly away.
“Tell them what?” Emma urged.
“It’s about me,” Edgar said. “I’m not Edgar Fairchild. My name is Edgar Powell, or at least it was. I had it legally changed several years ago.”
“What are you hiding from, Edgar?” asked Emma. She got up and went to the fireplace to stand next to him. Remembering Judy, Emma added, “Unless you don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“No, that’s okay,” he said. “Judy knows. She and I have known each other a long time.”
“Judy introduced us,” Chris added, patting Judy’s leg with affection.
“When I was a teen in Chicago,” Edgar began, “I was mixed up in some gang stuff. One day, some of the guys robbed a liquor store and the clerk was shot and killed.”
“So you ran away to California?” asked Kelly.
“I wasn’t with them when it happened,” Edgar stressed. “Really, I wasn’t. But I knew who they were. The guy who did the shooting was a real badass. He told me and some of the other guys that if we ever told, he’d kill us. Well, someone ratted. Not me, but someone, and soon the other guys were being hunted down. I took off and have spent every day of the past ten years looking over my shoulder. I was seventeen at the time.”
Chris got up and disappeared into the kitchen. When he returned he had a note. “This showed up not long ago.” He handed it to Emma. The note, written in a messy scrawl, read, “You can’t run forever.”
“I also got a couple of calls,” Edgar told them, “with pretty much the same message. We thought we could handle it, but when the shop was vandalized and then Chris got his head split open, I knew we had to say something or I had to disappear again. I couldn’t put Chris in danger.”
“But I wouldn’t let him,” said Chris. “I couldn’t bear to lose him and was afraid if we went to the police it would make it worse.”
Emma studied the note. “Outside of the calls and this note, did they try to get in touch with you, you know, to meet?”
Edgar scoffed. “You don’t call assaulting Chris and destroying our home getting up close and personal?”
“I think I know where my mom’s going with this,” added Kelly. “They broke in only when they knew or thought you were gone, especially today. If they had wanted to hurt you personally, they would have shown up while you were home and not to slash your artwork.”
“Exactly,” said Granny, who was over in a corner watching the proceedings with Doug and Shirley. She turned to the other spirits with pride. “She’s a smart one, just like her mother.”
“Well,” said Edgar, “if they’re just trying to scare us, they’re doing an outstanding job.”
“You need to go to the police,” Emma told them, “before they escalate this.”
Shirley stepped in front of Chris. “Please listen to her, Chris,” the ghost pleaded with her grandson even though he couldn’t hear her.
“I agree,” said Edgar. “But do you think it can wait until Wednesday, the day after the show?”
Chris looked at his partner, his mouth hanging open as if his jaw was unhinged. “The show? Are you kidding me? What show?” He stood up and paced the room like a trapped animal. “Edgar, you could never repair the puppets in time.” He stopped pacing. “I guess I could always put a gym sock over my hand and pretend it’s a dummy.”
“You’re kidding, right?” asked Judy.
“Of course I’m kidding,” Chris yelled at her. “I can’t do any show now.”
Judy picked up her purse and started for the door. “I think I’d better go.”
Chris put a hand on her arm as she passed. “Judy, please. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scream at you.”
“I know you didn’t,” she told him. She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “And I’m sorry about what happened.” She grinned at him. “You know, you’re talented enough to pull off the sock puppet thing.”
Everyone enjoyed a small laugh, letting it ease the tension.
Once she was gone, Doug approached Emma. “He can still do a show. There’s always Buddy. Tell him that.”
Emma looked at Doug, then at Shirley, who nodded with enthusiasm. “He put Buddy away in a closet right before Judy came over because she’s always making fun of it.” Emma turned and looked at Kelly, who was giving her an encouraging look.
“What about Buddy?” Emma asked. “You could always use him.”
“Yeah,” agreed Kelly. “I’m sure you have time to modify your act if you get to work right away.”
Chris sat heavily down on a nearby chair and ran a hand over his face. “There’s no time.”
“Sure there is,” Edgar said. He disappeared down the hall and returned with the goofy-looking puppet. “Good thing you stuck him in the bedroom closet or the creep might have gotten to him, too.”
Chris took Buddy and sat him on his knee. “Judy calls him Butt-Ugly Buddy. I know she’s kidding, but it always feels a bit like she’s calling me that when she does.”
“And there’s your first joke,” Emma said with a smile. “Introduce him as Butt-Ugly.”
“Yeah,” agreed Kelly. “Just Butt-Ugly. Drop the Buddy part. Maybe talk about what a ladies’ man he is, or thinks he is.”
Edgar knelt down in front of Chris. “Please, Chris. Give it a shot. I can try to modify him tonight. Maybe make him more ugly and goofy. And we can give him a different wardrobe. Maybe ropes of gold chains and a polyester lounge-lizard shirt. Better yet, how about a big purple fedora with a feather? He can be Butt-Ugly, the white pimp.”
Everyone was laughing, even the ghosts. Only Chris wasn’t laughing. He leaned against the back of the chair, his eyes closed, Buddy on his knee. A moment later, Buddy’s head turned and his eyes opened and rolled. The puppet looked straight at Edgar. “That’s
Mr.
Butt-Ugly to you.”