No Ghouls Allowed (15 page)

It was Heath’s turn to chuckle. We Southerners took pride in our toad metaphors. Beau
wasn’t trying to be funny, however. He still looked totally stressed-out. “You gotta
help us out here, guys. Please? I’m beggin’ here.”

I frowned. The more I tried to skirt the edges of this thing, the more I got sucked
down into the center of the storm. Beau read my hesitation and his shoulders sagged.
I held up a finger to let him know I hadn’t made up my mind yet and turned to Heath.
He shrugged but added a nod. “I’m in if you are. I mean, as long as they’re willing
to pay us.” For added measure he eyed Beau again and said, “It’s only fair, Deputy.
You get paid, we get paid.”

“I’ll make that happen,” he promised, looking hopeful. “So you’ll do it?”

It was my turn to sigh. “Oh, fine.” My conscience wasn’t going to allow me to just
let Beau head back to Porter Manor and keep on investigating blindly. It was far too
dangerous. Plus, I reasoned that by helping him, we’d be helping ourselves to find
out the source of the Sandman and figure out a way to shut his ass down.

“Oh, thank you, guys!” Beau gushed, pulling me back from my thoughts. “Thank you.
Now, I don’t mean to rush y’all, but I think we should get started right away.”

I made a point to look down at myself. “Can I shower first?”

“Uh, sure! Sorry. Yeah. I’ll just head to the car and talk to the sheriff and see
if I can’t get you guys on the payroll.”

With that, he was hustling to his car and Heath and I were left to consider what we’d
just agreed to. “Aren’t you glad I talked you into coming down here?” I said, swinging
his arm.

He lowered his lids, shook his head, and tried hard to stifle a laugh. “Trouble just
has a way of finding you, doesn’t it?”

“How do you know it’s me? Maybe trouble’s been looking for
you
and I’m just your plucky sidekick.”

“Seems to me you were getting into trouble like this even before we met,” Heath replied,
sweeping me into a hug.

“Ah. Yeah. That’s right. Okay, so you’re the plucky sidekick.”

He chuckled and gave me a sweet kiss. “Need help in that shower?”

“We can’t!” I whispered. “Mrs. G. and Gil are inside.”

“We can be quiet,” Heath said, pressing himself against me and sliding his lips down
to nibble my neck.

Behind us the door opened and I heard Gilley say, “Oh, jeez, you guys! Can you keep
your hands off each other for two seconds? Seriously, you two are worse than a pair
of oversexed rabbits.”

Heath let his forehead fall to my shoulder. He then sighed. I was right there with
him. “Morning, Gil,” I said, waving over Heath’s shoulder.

He frowned at me. For the record, Gilley had a knack for walking in on Heath and me
at the most inopportune times. Mostly because he thought knocking was something you
did
as
you opened the door.

“I heard Beau was back,” he said, shoveling the remains of a muffin into his mouth.
“What’s he want?”

Heath let go of me and muttered, “I’ll bring you some coffee, Em.” I noticed that
he maybe shut the door a little more firmly than usual.

“What’s his problem?” Gil said, looking toward the door.

“He’s worried the Kardashians aren’t getting enough exposure.”

Gil lowered his lids and pursed his lips at me before waving a hand in my direction.
“Sweaty just isn’t your color, sugar.”

I rolled my eyes and pointed to the deputy still in his car talking on the phone.
“Beau came by to recruit us for the murder investigation.”

Gilley squinted hard at me. “He came by to what with who for what, now?”

I knew he’d heard me and I was itching for a shower, so, rather than elaborate, all
I said was, “Yes.” Then I began moving toward the door.

Gilley stepped in front of me. “Wait. Hold on there. Recruit you how, M.J.?”

I sighed again, trying to put on my patience hat. “He wants to deputize us and have
us work with him on the investigation of the second body we found at Porter Manor
yesterday.”

“He wants to
deputize
us?”

“Sorry. Not ‘us’ as in you, ‘us’ as in Heath and me.”

Gilley’s squint narrowed just a tad more. “Is that legal?”

“Is what legal?”

“Him deputizing you guys. I mean, don’t you have to go through some sort of training
or sheriff’s academy or something?”

“I guess not. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to take a shower.”

But Gil wasn’t budging. “Wait, wait, wait,” he said. “Why can’t I get deputized?”

My brow lifted. “You want to get involved in this investigation? This investigation
that involves whatever spook is haunting the Porter mansion and may be responsible
for the murder of that young boy and that construction owner?”

“Well, no,” Gil admitted. “But I would like a badge.”

“We don’t get badges.”

“A star to pin to my shirt?”

“Nope.”

“A certificate?”

“Sorry, pal. We’re deputies in name only.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“It means we get to tell people we’re deputies, but we can’t prove it unless they
call the sheriff’s department and they confirm it.”

“Hey,” I heard behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Beau there. “So, it’s
all set. Sheriff Kogan has authorized a temporary salary for you and Heath. It’s equal
to first-year cadet pay, which isn’t a lot, but it’s something. Oh, and when we stop
by the station, I’ll give you some temporary badges to carry in case anybody wants
to see proof you’re legit.”

“I thought we weren’t getting those?”

“Yeah, Kogan had a chance to rethink that, and as long as you’re gonna be on the payroll,
we sort of have to give you a badge.”

“I’m in!” Gil practically shouted.

Uh-oh.

“Gil,” I said, ready to talk some sense into him. “Do you really think that’s a good
idea?”

“Yes!” he said confidently. “I mean, who else is gonna do all your research for you,
M.J.? You’ll need background checks, verification of alibis, etc., etc.”

I eyed him keenly. I was onto him. Gilley could do all of that from the safety of
his mother’s house. There was no need to deputize him. “It’s up to Deputy Breslow,”
I said with no small measure of confidence. No way was Beau gonna authorize yet another
addition to the payroll. Not when he had deputies and staff that could also do everything
Gilley had just mentioned.

“That’d be great, Gilley,” Beau said with enthusiasm. “Thanks for volunteering.”

I wanted to smack Breslow. Didn’t he know what a pain in the butt Gilley could be?
Oh, wait. How could he know? Well, judging by the way they were both beaming at each
other, he’d find out pretty quick.

“You’re welcome, but just to be clear, I get the same salary and a badge, right?”

“Uh, sure. Yeah. No problem,” Breslow said.

“Good. And of course I’ll need an hour lunch and maybe time off to get a coffee here
and there. Oh, and I can’t possibly start work until ten a.m. I mean, I’m a wreck
if I don’t get my beauty sleep. Plus I’ll need weekends and nights off.”

I smiled sweetly at Beau. “Welcome to my world, Deputy.”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t comment further on Gilley’s demands. “So, you ready
to go?” he asked me, probably just to change the subject.

I made a point of looking down at myself. “I still haven’t showered or changed yet,
Deputy.”

“Uh, right,” Breslow said, a touch of color heating his cheeks. “Sorry. Take your
time. Just not too much time. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

I left Gilley and Breslow to work out the details of Gil’s temporary employment with
the sheriff’s department of Valdosta, and managed to take a quick shower (sans boyfriend),
change, and be back on the front porch within twenty minutes.

Mrs. G. was in the front yard tending to her garden and looking worried. I wanted
to reassure her that there was nothing to worry about, but like I said before, that
woman could sniff out a lie like no one else I knew.

We drove behind Deputy Breslow to the station, where we all filled out some paperwork
and were sworn in as deputies. That part was pretty cool, actually, and then Beau
fished around in one of the desk drawers and came up with three badges for us. “Do
we get guns?” Gilley asked.

Beau looked like he was beginning to regret his decision to put Gil on the payroll.
I knew just how he felt.
“No!”
the deputy said. “No guns, Gilley.”

Gil pouted, but then he flashed his badge at me and said, “Deputy Gillespie, ma’am.
Do you know how fast you were going?” Before I could say anything, he lit up and turned
back to Breslow. “Ooooo, can we write tickets?”

I noticed a nice sheen forming on the deputy’s forehead. Served him right. He should’ve
checked with me before agreeing to give Gilley a badge. Still, I felt a little sorry
for him. “Gil,” I said, pulling him to the side and retrieving my cell from the pocket
of my fishing vest. I’d managed to squirrel the vest away from Mrs. G. before she
had a chance to bedazzle the back. “I have some research I need you to look into.”

“Oh?”

I opened up the photo tab on my cell and flipped through the photos I’d taken of the
crime scene the day before to the Ouija board. “I need to know where this came from.”

Gil lifted the cell out of my hand and studied it. “That’s the coolest-looking Ouija
board I’ve ever seen.”

“I thought so too until the planchette started moving on its own.”

“The Sandman?”

“Yeah. I was thinking about the board while I was out on my run, and it occurred to
me that this thing had to have cost a pretty penny. I mean, look at the detail.”

Gil enlarged the image with his fingers. “It is super elaborate.”

“Exactly. So, I’m wondering if the board is responsible for the Sandman’s appearance.
If I can find the origin of the board, I might be able to come up with some history
about the Sandman and find a way to shut him down.”

Gil eyed me curiously. “Why don’t you just jam a spike through the board?”

I blinked. What he was saying was so obvious, and I hadn’t even thought of it. “The
board is the portal,” I whispered. “Of course!”

Gil fiddled with my cell for a minute before handing it back. “I just texted the pic
to my phone. I’ll see what I can find out about the board, but busting that spook’s
ass might be a whole lot easier than we thought.”

“Do we have spikes in the car?”

“A whole duffel bag full,” Gil assured me.

“Awesome,” I said, beaming at him. Okay, so maybe I’d been a little quick to judge
his joining us in the investigation. If we could shut down the Sandman, we could at
least help Breslow with the investigation without the threat of a dangerous spook
on our tails. “Heath,” I called. He and Beau were currently in a conversation over
a file.

“What’s up?”

“We need to head over to Porter Manor.”

“Why?” the deputy chimed in.

“There’s something Heath and I need to do there. Actually, there’s something I need
to take care of. There’s an item at the crime scene that I need to drive a spike through.”

Heath gave me a thumbs-up. He knew I was talking about the Ouija board.

Beau looked at me like I had to be making a joke. “You want to put a spike through
a piece of evidence at my crime scene?”

“I’ll explain on the way,” I assured him, anxious to get to Porter Manor and put a
spike into that board before the Sandman could inflict any more damage. “Would you
mind driving us over there?”

Breslow agreed to drive us, but he told me there’d be no way he’d give me permission
to put a spike into anything before he saw what I was talking about. I thought I could
wait to show him how harmless it would be to his crime scene until we got to the playroom
and I pointed out the board and its connection to the dangerous spook we were all
so worried about.

We arrived at Porter Manor and Heath and I zipped up our fishing vests, loading a
few extra magnets for good measure, and checked the duffel bag for spikes. Gil had
prepared us well; the bag weighed a ton from the two dozen spikes rattling around
on the bottom. I took a few out to hand-carry, just in case, and Heath tucked two
into his waistband.

My sweetheart carried the duffel, and Beau—wearing Gilley’s plaid vest—led the way
up the steps. He moved cautiously, with his right hand hovering over his sidearm while
with his left hand he slid a knife through the crime scene seal over the door. Before
he had a chance to open the door, I slipped one of the spikes I was carrying into
his right hand. He looked down at it in surprise and I said, “Your gun isn’t going
to help you here, Deputy. But that spike could save your life. Hold on to it, and
if anything spectral jumps out at you, jab it with that and run like hell.”

Breslow paled a bit and swallowed loudly. “Maybe Heath should go first?”

I would’ve smiled if we’d been anywhere else, but I knew that as nervous as I was
to be back at Porter Manor, Deputy Breslow had to be ten times more so, and still
he’d driven us here and was willing to go inside.

Heath stepped forward and put a tentative hand on the handle. It turned without resistance
and he opened the door wide.

Peering into the darkened hallway, he said to Breslow, “You were here today?”

“This morning,” the deputy answered. “I came with Deputy Wells and Carter and made
them carry a few magnets when we went inside to retrieve the remains from the playroom.”

“Anything weird happen to you this morning?”

Breslow shook his head. “No. It was quiet. We weren’t here long, though. Just a few
minutes to go in, look for the body, find it was missing, and get the heck out.”

“Okay,” Heath said, and I saw him square his shoulders and step across the threshold.
“Let’s do this thing fast. I don’t want to give the spook a chance to get creative.”

I followed Heath through the door and Breslow brought up the rear. We traveled down
the corridor and made our way to the room at the end, which seemed to be the center
of all the activity in the house. There was more tape across the doorway, and Beau
indicated that we should simply duck under it. “When did you put that up?” I asked.

“This morning,” he replied. “I also resealed the front door.”

I paused before ducking under the tape. “You
re
sealed the front door? When did you seal it the first time?”

“Last night,” he said. “I told Carter and Wells to do it before they left.”

“Did they come inside?” I asked.

He scoffed. “Nope. They gave me a bunch of flak about sticking around long enough
to put that seal up too. Those doors were still slamming long after we left.”

“Ah,” I said, not surprised, but then something else occurred to me and again I paused
before ducking under the tape. “Beau, you said that you resealed the door this morning.
Was it broken when you came here to retrieve the body?”

He shook his head. “No, but sealing the door was probably a dumb idea anyway. I mean,
the window leading into this room is broken, and anybody could’ve come in through
the back door. I never thought to have the guys check it and seal it last night, but
this morning when we looked, it was unlocked. I sealed it up, but anybody could get
in here and take a skeleton out through that window. No way was I gonna get some boards
and board it over this morning. Not without you two around.”

I noticed that the deputy was shaking slightly, but trying to hide it. I put a reassuring
hand on his arm to let him know we’d be okay; then I moved under the tape and headed
over to Heath, who was standing in front of the playroom door holding tightly to the
duffel bag. He seemed to be waiting for something to alert us to the Sandman’s presence,
but the house remained quiet.

Maybe a little too quiet.

I came up beside Heath and he pointed to the faint outline of darkened wood that perfectly
matched the body of the young boy whose remains had lain there for over four decades.
“Why would you steal a skeleton?” he asked.

“The only reason I can think of,” Beau said, “is because you’re trying to hide some
key piece of evidence. And, as evidence goes, bodies, even old bodies, can reveal
a whole lot about the murderer.”

I noticed that the deputy’s shoulders sagged a bit, and I thought he was probably
upset with himself for not taking Everett’s remains at the same time we’d taken Scoffland’s.
“It’s not your fault that it’s gone, Beau,” I said to him.

But he merely shook his head. “Try telling that to Kogan.”

“I’d be happy to.” The house had been going crazy at the time we’d made a run for
it. No way could Kogan fault us for getting the hell out—especially not after what
he’d been through in here himself.

“So where did you want to put that spike?” Beau asked, looking nervously around.

I pointed to the other side of the small table with the tea set. “On the other side
of there.”

We walked around the table and the floor came into view and the second it did, my
breath caught. “Where . . . ? Where is it?!”

The Ouija board was gone. All that was left behind was a dark-stained patch of wood
similar to that where Everett’s body had lain, but this one was in the shape of a
rectangle.

“The planchette is gone too,” Heath said, motioning with his chin to the wall, where
we could all see a dark slash cut into the drywall.

“Maybe it got kicked aside or something,” I said, feeling my heart begin to race,
because if someone had taken that Ouija board, and the planchette, and if the board
was in fact the Sandman’s portal, then he could pop up anywhere in the county. Like
at Mrs. G.’s, for instance.

“What’re we talking about?” Beau asked.

“There was a board here,” I said, distracted by the thought that the Ouija board was
now gone. “We have to find it.”

“What kind of a board?”

“A Ouija board. But it wasn’t your typical Ouija board—this one was pretty elaborate
and artistic.”

“A Ouija board?” he said. “My sister had one of those when she was little. It freaked
her out one night at a sleepover and my parents got rid of it.”

I nodded because I heard that kind of story a lot from unwitting parents. “This board
would’ve been about a thousand times more powerful than your sister’s board,” I said.

Beau gulped. “Then we’d best find it and put a stake through it,” he said simply.

We searched the room for several minutes, but there was no sign of the board or the
planchette. “This is bad,” I whispered to Heath.

“Why didn’t we think to strap a magnet to it when we had the chance yesterday?” he
replied, his face riddled with guilt.

“The house was going crazy and we weren’t at our best,” I said.

“If the board isn’t here,” Beau said, “what does that mean?”

I stopped fishing around on the floor to sit back on my haunches. “It means the spook
who possessed Cisco and Cook, and manipulated Scoffland’s dead body, and slammed all
the doors in this house at once, and threw a planchette across the room hard enough
to embed it in a wall . . . is on the move.”

Beau’s face went the whitest I’d seen it. “What the heck was painted on that thing,
anyway?”

“Access to our realm,” I said. Beau’s brow furrowed, but I didn’t explain more. I
was too frantic to find any trace of the board and went back again to pull up the
skirt of the table to look under it.

“Who would’ve taken it?” Beau asked.

“Everett’s killer,” said Heath, and I lifted my chin to stare at him. “It’s the only
thing that makes sense,” he explained. “The killer took Everett’s body, and the board
and the planchette. No body, no murder, and the killer gets to manipulate the Sandman
any way he wants.”

I shuddered. “He could use it to murder someone else.”

Beau’s wide eyes got even wider. “We have to figure out who murdered that boy before
that happens.”

“We do,” I agreed.

“Where do you want to start?” Heath asked.

Beau blinked and stared at the floor as if trying to decide on a direction. After
several long moments where he didn’t offer anything, I said, “You know where I think
we should start?”

“Where?” Heath and Beau said together.

“With Sheriff Kogan. I want to know exactly what happened to him in the moments after
we left the room, before Deputy Cook attacked him.”

Beau nodded enthusiastically and was already moving toward the exit. “That’s just
what I was gonna suggest. Come on, let’s go talk to the sheriff.”

A short time later we arrived at the hospital and Beau asked us to wait while he went
in and made sure the sheriff was up for a short interview. A minute or two after he
disappeared into Kogan’s room, he stuck his head out and motioned us over.

We found the sheriff alert but very pale with lots of tubes coming out of him. “Mary
Jane,” he said hoarsely. “Mr. Whitefeather.”

“Sir,” Heath replied with a nod. “Please call me Heath.”

“You got it. And thanks for agreeing to work on this, Mary Jane. I hope your daddy
isn’t too uptight about my recruitin’ you?”

“He’s not upset at all,” I assured him. He didn’t really need to know that Daddy knew
nothing of my new title, or that I intended to keep him completely in the dark. I
doubted that he’d allow me to continue if he knew what I was up to. I mean, it was
fine if I wanted to go off and explore old abandoned castles and such, but he’d have
a cow if he discovered I was working on an actual murder investigation. “How’re you
doing, Sheriff?” I asked, hardly able to believe a man so gravely wounded could be
up and talking so soon after nearly being stabbed to death.