Haunted (34 page)

"Eric has a talent that commonly goes with his other ability. It's called psychometry. He senses a lot about things and people when he touches them. He's told me all sorts of things about the house that he couldn't possibly know--and that I've since verified.

“And he shook your hand and knew you’d believe him?”

"Yes, I think so. He may know that I've seen a number of things no one else would believe. Things I put in my fiction."

“Wait a minute. You’re telling me you’re like Eric? You’ve got ESP?”

David laughed heartily. "You're probably more psychic than I am. I work with psychics occasionally, but left to my own devices, I have about as much psychic ability as that Frisbee they're throwing."

"Then how?" Craig was halfway through his third beer and it was making him a little foggy. He hoped he didn't sound too stupid.

"Same way you saw the headless guy today. I just put myself in places where weird things happen."

"On purpose?" Craig was incredulous.

"Of course!"

"Why?"

"It's fun."

"Jesus Christ, you're weird, you know that?" Shaking his head, Craig added, "Chief of Police, and I about wet myself out there today. And you enjoy it?"

David gave him a shit-eating grin. "Sick, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He turned the can in his hands, then rubbed it against his forehead. "But I'm glad you moved here. You're good for Eric."

"He's good for me. He's so accepting and unafraid." David laughed. "You know when we got back to the house earlier and I disappeared for a minute?"

"Uh huh."

"I did lose control out there at the lighthouse."

''No shit?" Craig grinned. He liked a man who had the courage to admit it when he was afraid.

"No shit." David laughed lightly. "Rule number one: always wear black jeans when you go ghostbusting."

Craig laughed. "I'll remember that. You know, I didn't know what to expect with you. I guess I thought you'd be a pretentious snob."

David forced a belch, as if to waylay suspicions. "Why?"

"Famous big time writer, moving into Body House. I thought that was kind of a show-off thing to do."

"I only write bestsellers if I scare myself shitless first. It's the secret of my success. That's why I bought the house."

"You're weird," Craig repeated, not unkindly. "You live in a house like that and you're superstitious?"

"Maybe a little." David paused. "You mentioned the Minnie Willard rumor mill..."

"Uh huh," Craig said slowly.

"Am I in it?"

"Sure." Minnie had been spreading some particularly vile stuff about Masters and his daughter and Craig figured he ought to tell him, but really didn't want to. "Minnie talks about everyone."

"What's she saying?"

"I don't pay any attention to her stories. No one with any sense does--we've all been embarrassed by her at one time or another, though some people never learn. She oughta be writing soap operas. A lot of people tune in to Millie, even though they're ashamed to admit it."

"Jesus, what has she been saying about me?" The alarm in Masters' voice was unmistakable.

"Oh, that you're a crazy writer, of course," Craig said lightly. "You won't let her in your office so she figures you've got some really interesting secrets in there. Says old Theo has her hooks in you."

David snorted. "Is that all?"

Craig knew he really should tell him the one about how Masters kept his daughter supplied with sexy underwear. But, he wondered, was it really necessary? Only the handful of old hens that were Minnie's buddies paid any real credence to the woman's stories. One of them, Bea Broadside, the second biggest gossip in town, had gone so far as to call him about it. He grunted something about looking into it, which almost made him laugh while still on the phone, then shamed her, just a little, since he didn't want her phoning anyone else and making trouble for an innocent man. As David had rightly pointed out, he really did rely a great deal on Eric's judgment and Eric had said nothing that made him worry about the man sitting across the fire from him.

"That's about it," he normally said. He hated himself for his lack of honesty. "But if I were you..."

"If you were me?" David prompted.

"If I were you, I'd let her go. She's the worst kind of gossip, Masters." He took a deep breath. "Minnie takes a fact, a little bitty fact, and twists and turns it until it's bad."

"Are you trying to tell me something?"

"Let's put it this way. I got married in '89 and Linda packed up and left me in '91. It took me months to find out exactly where she got the notion that I was cheating on her." Old anger boiled at the memory.

"Minnie."

"Give the man a cigar. First, she saw my cruiser parked at Pelinore Realty, then one of her cronies saw it again a week later. Those two times, I really was there--Theo was having some trouble with vandalism at the time and we had two or three calls a week from her for more than a month, until we caught the culprit. Anyway, other officers were there at other times... but it just was my turn to be talked about." He paused to take a deep breath. Exhaling noisily, he continued. "Right around that same time, I was sitting in Fran's Café having lunch, reading the paper, minding my own business. Minnie and Bea were in the booth across from me. Well, Theo comes in to see Fran about a house she was buying. When she's done, she walks over to talk a minute about the vandal problem. Masters, she never even sat down and it got turned into one of a string of rendezvous, just like the two stops at her office turned into dozens. Linda left me two weeks later. Left a note, but wouldn't even speak to me because her good friend Minnie had advised her that her husband wasn't trustworthy." He coughed. "And that's what Minnie's mouth can do."

"I wonder why Theo even hired her for me. Minnie despises Theo. She must be out to ruin her reputation. Theo must know that."

"She knows. But I have two theories. Maybe one or both are right, or maybe both are bullshit. Personally, I'm theorizing they're both right."

"Well, spit 'em out."

"You told her to hire you a housekeeper, so she took what she could get." He snorted derisively. "Nobody but Minnie would do it. Her curiosity outweighs her fear. That's one theory. The other is, she's blackmailing Theo, so Theo had to hire her."

"What could she blackmail Theo about and why does she hate her so much?"

"Who knows?" Craig asked, then grinned. "Of course, I've got theories on that, too. Minnie was a member of the Beings of Light Church some years back but they excommunicated her--or whatever it is the High Hooey Center does when it kicks you out. Well, that was right around the time that Spiros appeared--"

"Spiros is the 'high being' they claim to channel?"

"She's told you about him, then?"

"Briefly." David nodded. "Very briefly."

"I figure they were afraid she was going to tell who the channeler was, so they dumped her. And that pissed her off."

"Is she mad at all of them, then?"

"Sure she is, but Theo is a particular target. Seems she gets to all the eligible men before Calla can and 'spoils' them for Minnie's darling daughter."

"Minnie has implied, particularly to Amber, that Theo sleeps around, that she's a gold-digger." David shook his head. "But Minnie or no Minnie, Amber hates Theo."

"Most women do. Holly, my sister-in-law, says Theo's predatory. Women sense those things. We don't."

"You've got that right. So, is Theo a maneater, like Minnie--and Amber--say?"

"Let's put it this way. If you get invited into her bed, make sure you've got rubbers. She's been around. I wouldn't take any chances."

"Rubbers." David chuckled. "Haven't heard that word for a while. All us aging big city baby boomers say condoms, so no one'll know how old we are. I say condom, but in my head, it's still rubber."

"Guess I'll have to say that too," Craig said. "You ever see the old-fashioned kind?"

"What do you mean?"

"My granddad had this rubber. This one rubber. He kept it in a wooden box by his bed and when I was ten, he decided to explain the facts of life to me. He took that thing out of the box and kinda waggled it in my face, you know? And then he explains to me how you had to be careful to wash it out every time you used it, and how you needed to dry it and talc it. I was horrified--my grandfather was having sex with my grandmother."

Masters guffawed. "What an awful thought!"

"It still is," Craig chuckled. "When he picked the thing up, talc flew out of it, and there were water stains--fresh ones--in the wooden box. A kid doesn't need to know his grandma and grandpa are still doing the wild thing. And you should've seen this thing. It was as thick as a plumber's glove. You wouldn't even know you were having sex." He laughed. "It warped me, Masters, it truly did."

"Can I ask you something?" David's tone was serious.

"Shoot."

"Why did Minnie try to break up your marriage?"

"Try? My friend, she did it up brown. My own theory is that Minnie wanted to get rid of Linda She never liked her--" He grinned. "Like you, she was from the big city, which is a pretty exotic thing to Minnie, who claims never to go anywhere. Anyway, as far as she was concerned, Linda waltzed in here and stopped her plans to fix me up with her daughter. After Linda left, she went back to trying to matchmake me and Calla."

"I'm sorry."

"No. It was a lousy marriage anyway. If it hadn't been, Linda would have trusted me, at least enough to hear my side. So, in a way, the old bat did me a favor." He finished off his beer. "Has Minnie tried to fix you up with Calla yet?"

"I've been given the sales pitch a dozen times." David groaned. "And Calla keeps leaving phone messages about interviewing me for the paper. She's left notes on the door and she's come over when her mother's there. I guess I can't avoid her forever, but..."

"How the hell do you avoid her now?"

"I screen all my calls, and I lock myself in my office all day." He grinned sheepishly. "I got nasty with Minnie early on after she came into my office without knocking, then I followed up by making sure she knew about the lock I installed. Amber then explained to her that I'm a monster if anyone disturbs me during working hours. A regular Jack Torrance."

"Jack who?"

"Jack Nicholson’s character in The Shining."

"The maniac writer." Craig nodded appreciatively. "That's nothing I'd want to mess with."

"Let's hope Minnie continues to feel the same way. But I think I'll just let her go. I knew I should--I just didn't want to do any housework."

"You might ask Eric about working more hours for you. He's got a part-time job at the bait shop that he would love to give up."

"I'll ask him. Thanks. So, tell me about Calla. You were going to marry her?"

"Lord, no. Minnie thought I should. I'd about rather turn gay."

"Bad news, huh?"

"She's not exactly ugly or anything, just homely. Real skinny, with a long horsy face. Wears granny glasses."

"How unfortunate," David said.

"And she fucks with her hair. It's always different and always looks like a cat threw up on her head. It's always short, but sometimes it's brown, and sometimes red. Once she frosted it so she looked a lot like the Bride of Frankenstein. She cuts it herself, too, and sometimes little chunks are gone out of it. Then, when that happens, she perms it so it looks like an Afro from the seventies. The boys at the station have a pool every week on Calla's hair." He grinned. "I won last week."

"She sounds horrible."

"Yep. She's sort of got this rebellious save-the-world attitude that you'd expect from a college kid. She handcuffed herself to a trash can once to protest rising refuse bills. Had a photog from the paper take pictures and wrote up a story trying to accuse my men of brutality. Since half the town witnessed the event, she just did herself a big disservice. She's the bee in your bonnet type, always looking for causes no one else cares about. Calls herself a liberal or a socialist or a humanitarian, depending on her mood. Always shows up in old jeans and Hawaiian shirts. Wrinkled ones. I mean, this is California, we don't much care, but she wears this stuff to weddings because it's 'her right,' as she says."

"Old hippie," David observed solemnly.

"You've got it. The worst thing about Calla, though, is her earrings. Now, understand, I've been here most of my life. Went to college in San Luis Obispo and I get out to LA or Frisco once in a while, but basically I'm a socially ignorant country boy. But even I know those earrings of hers must come from inside cereal boxes. They're big and they're cheap and she has a million of them. That's Calla."

"You haven't mentioned her qualities as a writer," David said dryly. "Her mother told me she's written fifteen books and volunteered me to read them so she can get published."

"Lord have mercy on our souls," Craig said with false fervency.

"She once had an offer to sell one of those books. It was a long, long time ago. You know what she did? She wouldn't sell it because they said there'd be some editing."