Ghoul Interrupted (3 page)

Gil, of course, had positioned himself as far away from the dwarfs as he could get—using me as a human shield—and oddly, Heath and I had suffered no ill effects, but Gil now had a headache and a slight temperature. “I’m sure you’re fine,” I told him. I’m a pretty good liar when I need to be.

“I don’t feel warm?” he asked.

I eyed Gilley’s pale face and the dark circles under his eyes. “You feel and look just fine.”

Gil rubbed at his temples again. “Then this is bad,” he whispered.

“What’s bad?”

“A headache this killer isn’t normal, M. J.”

“You’re probably just dehydrated.”

“I had two bottles of water on the plane.”

“Then it’s probably exhaustion,” I told him, willing the baggage carousel to start moving so we could get our bags and be on our way.

“I slept at the airport and the last three hours of our flight,” he said, more to himself than to me. I tensed. I had a feeling where this was headed. Sure enough, a moment later Gilley got right up into my personal space. “Do you think I’m having a stroke?”

I tried not to laugh. Really I did . . . but it was impossible not to. “Gil,” I said once I’d gotten control of myself. “You’re not having a stroke.”

“How do
you
know?” he demanded, inching his face closer to me. He then raised one eyebrow, lowered it, and did the same with his other eyebrow. “Did both my eyebrows move?” he asked me. Before I could even answer, he gasped again, “Ohmigod! Is my speech slurred?”

“Gil,” I said levelly.

He slapped his cheeks one at a time. “I think my face is going numb!”

“Gil,” I repeated a little more firmly.

Gilley extended both arms and wiggled his fingers. “It’s my right side!” he squeaked. “It’s losing feeling!”

Heath came up next to me after visiting the restroom, and Gilley nearly jumped him. Grabbing him by the lapels of his coat, he cried, “Heath! Heath!”

Heath pulled his head back and mimicked, “Gilley, Gilley.”

“Brace yourself,” I muttered.

Gil pulled Heath closer. “Is one side of my mouth sagging?”

Heath eyed me in a “What the . . . what?” kind of way.

“He thinks he’s having a stroke,” I said.

“My speech is slurred,” Gilley told him. “And I can’t feel one side of my face! And my right eyebrow won’t go up!”

“It’s up now,” Heath told him. “Both of ’em are up, actually.”

Gilley’s brow plummeted into a deep furrow. “Gah!” he spat, and stomped off to the restroom, likely to have a look in the mirror and see for himself.

“What was
that
about?” Heath asked while we watched Gilley’s dash to the men’s room. “Or don’t I want to know?”

“He’s got a headache,” I said. Like that would explain everything.

“Ahhh,” Heath said. “And he went with stroke over tumor?”

“Yeah, I know. It could’ve gone either way with him.”

“Heath!” someone behind us called.

We turned to see a couple hurrying toward us. The woman was tall and lean with beautiful angular features. I knew right away she and Heath were related, especially when she launched herself into his arms and hugged him fiercely.

I stood there awkwardly with the man who’d accompanied her—he was also tall, with dark hair, black eyes, and a warm smile. He was dressed in surgical scrubs and a thick sheepskin coat. “Hi,” he said, extending his hand to me. “I’m Brody Perez.”

I returned his smile and extended my own hand. “M. J. Holliday.”

Heath and the woman stepped back from each other and I was touched to see both of them crying a little. “It’s been too long!” she said to him, still holding his hand tightly.

Heath turned to me. “Em,” he said, using his new nickname for me. “This is Arianna Perez. My cousin, but really more like my sister.”

Arianna let go of Heath’s hand and stepped forward to greet me with a hug. “I’ve heard
so
much about you, M. J.!” she gushed. “And I’m so glad to finally meet you!”

I’m not really a hugger, and I’d heard almost nothing about Arianna other than she was the one who’d broken the news about Milton to Heath. Still, I went with it, patting her on the back and saying something like, “Yes, but what a shame we had to meet under such sad circumstances.”

She stepped away from me and nodded somberly, wiping at another tear. Just then Gilley joined our little group. “What’d I miss?” he asked.

“Gilley,” Heath said, “meet Ari and Brody Perez. My cousins.”

Gilley shook Ari’s hand first, and when he swiveled to take Brody’s, he must have caught sight of the surgical scrubs. “Are you a doctor?” he asked abruptly.

I barely held in a groan. “Here we go,” I muttered to Heath.

Brody chuckled. “I am. I work at Santa Fe Indian Hospital.”

Gilley sagged against him dramatically. “Oh, thank you, Baby Jesus!” he said. “Dr. Brody, I’m having a stroke.”

Positioning myself behind Gilley, I shook my head vigorously to gain Brody’s attention, then made swirling motions with my finger near my ear.

Poor Brody looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh . . . ,” he said.

“No,
really
, Doctor,” Gilley insisted. “I am. My speech is slurred and I think my right side is going numb.”

“Your speech is slurred?” Brody asked, looking from Gilley to me (still shaking my head and making the “He’s crazy!” sign), then back to Gil again.

“Yes, my speech is slurred!” Gilley said, like it was obvious. “Can’t you tell?”

“No.”

“Well, I have a headache too,” Gil said, like that was
the
defining symptom for a stroke.

Brody appeared to be a nice guy, because he put on his serious face and said, “What other symptoms are you having?”

Gilley rattled off about twenty, including the foot cramp he’d gotten that morning.

Brody said, “Well, you do look a little pale to me.”

Gilley turned to glare pointedly at me, before returning his attention back to the good doctor.

“I have a good test for patients who think they might be having a stroke, though,” he said.

“A CT scan?” Gil asked hopefully.

I shook my head vigorously behind Gilley’s back again.

“Uh . . . no,” Brody said. “It’s more like, can you smile and say your name at the same time?”

“Of course I can.”

The corners of Brody’s mouth quirked. “No, I mean, can you do that for me right now?”

I couldn’t see Gil, but I knew he was flashing his pearly whites in a tight smile as he said, “Gilley Gilleshpie.”

Brody pointed at him. “Well, Gilley Gilleshpie, I feel confident that you’re not having a stroke.”

“Gillespie,” Gil corrected.

“What’s that?”

“My last name. It’s Gillespie, not Gilleshpie.”

“Okay, then,” Brody said, and I could tell he was quickly tiring of my neurotic best friend.

Blissfully, at that moment the baggage carousel began to turn. We got our bags and gear and wearily headed for the exit.

Looking around the largely empty terminal, Ari asked Heath, “Aren’t there more of you?”

“Our producer and the rest of the TV crew had to fly back to L.A. to iron out some contract stuff now that we’re switching networks,” Heath explained.

“And they didn’t want to come to a funeral,” Gilley muttered under his breath so that only I could hear. I was about to elbow him, but the poor guy really did look pale. I knew he was likely coming down with the same flu that had plagued the dwarfs in Chicago.

A bit later when we were all piled in Brody’s roomy SUV, Ari turned in her seat to peer at us and asked, “Where to?”

I looked at Heath expectantly. “Aren’t we staying at your place?”

Even in the dim light I could see him redden. “It’s being remodeled. My cousin’s been working on it while I’ve been away, and he sent me a text right before we boarded that it isn’t ready yet.”

“Which is Ray’s way of saying he hasn’t touched it since you left,” Ari quipped.

Heath’s eyes darted to her. “You’ve seen it?”

Ari nodded. “He’s taken it down to the studs, Heath, but he’s done nothing else.”

Heath’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “That idiot,” he grumbled.

“I told you not to hire him,” Ari said.

“He’s family,” Heath told her. “I had to hire him.”

“Yeah, well, your poor mom hasn’t had a space to call her own since October.”

“I thought your mom had her own place?” I said.

Heath rubbed his eyes tiredly. “She sold it and we thought it would only take a month or two for Ray to finish. She’s been staying in Phoenix with my stepdad’s sister.”

I thought it odd that none of the Whitefeathers had offered Heath’s mom a place to stay, but I had an inkling that Heath’s family had quite a few lines of contention within it, so I didn’t ask. Heath would probably tell me when he was ready.

“Is there a hotel or something close by?” Gil asked. I knew he just wanted to get somewhere so that he could lie down.

I fished around in my purse and came up with some headache medicine for him along with the last of my bottled water. “Take two,” I instructed.

“I guess we could stay anywhere close,” Heath said while I tended to Gil. “There’s that Holiday Inn on Cer-rillos, right?”

“Holiday Inn it is,” Brody said, placing the car in drive.

“When’s the funeral?” Gilley asked abruptly, handing me back the empty water bottle.

“The day after tomorrow, Gil,” Heath said. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he added, “But it’s for tribal members only.”

Gilley’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something (probably something inappropriate), so I quickly said, “Of course, Heath. We understand. Don’t we, Gil?”

Gil’s eyes glared at me, but his mouth formed a toothy smile. “Gilley Gilleshpie,” he said softly.

I focused back on Heath and took his hand. “Will that give your mom enough time to get here?”

Heath nodded. “She’s still trying to find a cheap fare, but, yeah, come hell or high water, she’ll be here.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Ari and her husband exchanging a look.

“What?” Heath asked, obviously catching it too.

Ari tucked a long lock behind her ear. “My dad doesn’t want your mom to come,” she said meekly.

Heath reflexively tightened his grip on my hand and I winced. “I expected as much from Uncle Vernon. What does Rex say?” he asked.

Ari lifted her eyes then and smiled. “He says my dad’s a mule and of course both you and your mom should be there.”

The tension of Heath’s hand around mine lessened. “Oh, we’ll be there,” he said stubbornly.

Ari’s smile widened. “
We
want you there. And my dad’s only got one vote. Aunt Bev’s is the important vote and she definitely wants you and Aunt Serena there. I think if your mom just shows up, no one in the tribe is gonna complain. I mean, it’s her brother after all.”

Heath nodded, but there was still a stiff set to his shoulders. I didn’t know what had happened within the Whitefeather family to cause such a rift, and I didn’t really feel it was my place to ask about it. I wanted to give Heath time to tell me for himself. And I also knew that tonight was not the time to talk about such things. We needed to get some shut-eye before we all fell over from exhaustion.

At that moment Ari’s cell phone chirped. I tried not to listen as she took the call, but the rest of the car was quiet and there was no avoiding it.

“Hi, Ma,” she said. “Yeah. We just picked him up. We’re taking him to the Holiday Inn for the night so that he and his friends can get some sleep. What’s that?”

I turned my head and looked out the window. The terrain was very dark, not even a hint of moonlight to give any description to the land we traveled past.

“No . . . ,” I heard Arianna say. “When was the last time Molly heard from her?”

Heath took my hand again and brought it to his lips. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

I leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. “Me too.”

“Has anyone called her work?” Arianna said.

My attention swiveled to the front of the car. Something seemed off.

“Maybe she stopped off for a drink or something and she can’t hear her phone in the bar,” Arianna said next.

I nudged my chin in her direction. “What’s up?” I mouthed.

Heath turned his head and focused on his cousin. “Ari?” he whispered, and she looked over her shoulder at him. “Something wrong?”

She held up a finger and said, “Yeah, okay, Ma. Let me know when you hear from her, okay?”

“What’s up?” Brody asked the moment she’d tucked her cell away.

“Beverly isn’t home yet and Molly’s worried.”

Heath leaned over and whispered, “Bev’s Milton’s ex-wife, but the two were talking about reconciling right before Milton died. Molly is their daughter.”

“Ah,” I said.

Brody put on his turn signal and the bright lights of the Holiday Inn lit up the car’s interior with an unflattering glow. I could only imagine how fetching I must be in the harsh light after three straight days of traveling, airports, and only about seven hours’ sleep total.

Brody helped us with our bags, and while Heath hugged and said good night to his cousin and her husband, I got us two rooms and a wake-up call for ten. It was now much closer to one a.m. than midnight and I was very much looking forward to those nine hours of sleep.

After collecting our key cards, I waited for Heath, waved to Ari and Brody, and tried to keep Gilley conscious long enough to see him to his room. That last task was a lot harder than you might think.

Finally, about fifteen minutes later, Heath and I were able to crawl under the sheets and sink into a wonderful slumber. I had no idea that it would be the last truly peaceful night’s sleep I’d get for the next several days.