Jennie Bentley - Spackled and Spooked

“That’s what I figured. Do you suppose we ought to send it to the lawyer in Portland? Just in case Patrick would like to have it? He might not have much else left from his family.”

Derek hesitated. “We could, I suppose.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“Don’t know if I’d want to be reminded, if it were me. He sold the house, after all.”

“That’s true,” I said. “How about I put it away, and we wait awhile? If we give it some time, maybe you’ll think differently.”

“Works for me,” Derek said, with a shrug. “So what do you want to do for dinner tonight? You feel like cooking? You want me to?”

“I could go for some pizza,” I said, knowing my own culinary limitations only too well and becoming increasingly familiar with his.

“There’s a place called Guido’s just over the hill there. A place to hang out for the Barnham College kids, mostly. Is it OK if we stop?”

“Sure,” I said. With a name like Guido’s, the pizza was probably pretty good, and I’m not so old yet that I feel out of place with the college crowd. Plus, it’s always fun to watch the coeds make eyes at Derek, who has casual, scruffy charm down to a science.

Guido’s turned out to be everything I thought it would be and more. A low-slung cinderblock building with a neon sign outside, blinking “HOT-HOT-HOT” like a donut shop. Or a strip club. The parking lot was full of trucks and economy cars with student parking stickers and-often-out-of-state license plates. Inside, there were low ceilings, booths around all the walls, and tables crammed cheek by jowl in the space between. Every table had a red and white checkered tablecloth on it and an empty bottle of Chianti anchoring a flickering candle. Sinatra was crooning from speakers in the corners, although it was hard to hear him over the buzz of voices. The place was packed to the rafters with college students, sitting, standing, and hanging from the lamps like monkeys. Or if they weren’t, that was the impression they gave.

There was no such thing as a hostess on duty, so after a moment’s hesitation to survey the terrain, Derek took my hand and pulled me after him down the two steps to the concrete floor and through the madding crowd. We ended up at a small table for two tucked into a corner by the door to the kitchen, where Derek put me out of harm’s way and risked his own life and limb sitting with his back to the room and the swinging door.

It wasn’t long before a gum-popping coed in a skin-tight T-shirt and low-riding jeans wiggled her way over to our table. Her name was Candy, and she was at our-or rather at Derek’s-service. She looked at him when she said it, and for all the attention she paid me, he might as well have been there alone.

I rolled my eyes but hesitated to assert ownership. For one thing, I wasn’t sure just how firmly cemented our relationship was-four months ago, I hadn’t known this guy existed-and besides, she’d probably just look at me down the length of her perfect nose and smile pityingly. So I kept my mouth shut and my teeth firmly clenched while Derek ordered a pizza with everything, a Diet Coke for me, and a Moxie for himself.

“Be right back,” Candy promised, making sure to swish both her hips and her ponytail as she sashayed away from the table. Derek turned to me and opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out, another female hip bumped him companionably in the shoulder.

“What are you two doing here? Hi, Avery.”

The hip was attached to a tall, ultra-feminine body with a milky white complexion and long, mahogany red hair. At almost twenty, Shannon McGillicutty had her mother’s centerfold figure, and tonight, it was set off to full advantage in jeans and a cropped, white sweater. In her ears were dangling rhinestone earrings, very similar to the one I had in my pocket. Shannon adored Derek, whom she’d had a bit of a crush on when she was younger, and she seemed to like me well enough, too. Any crush she’d had seemed to be a thing of the past.

“Eating,” Derek answered. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing.” Shannon smiled at him then hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “Josh and Paige and Ricky are at a table over on the other side. We’ve got room for two more, if you want to join us.”

Derek glanced at me. I glanced at the rhinestones in Shannon ’s ears. “Sure. It isn’t like we’d have much privacy as it is.”

“This definitely isn’t the place for a romantic tête-à tête,” Shannon agreed. “C’mon.” She grabbed Derek’s arm and hauled him to his feet. He waited until I’d stepped out from the corner before he took my hand and towed me through the crowd again, this time toward the far wall.

In a big booth built into the far corner sat Shannon ’s friend Paige. The petite blonde was flanked on either side by tall, dark-haired young men, and appeared dwarfed by them both.

The young man on her left I was familiar with. His name was Josh, and he was the son of Kate’s boyfriend, Waterfield Chief of Police Wayne Rasmussen. Josh had his dad’s lanky height of six feet four inches or so, and dark, curly hair. He also had round glasses and a healthy disrespect for authority, unless that authority happened to be his best friend’s. Shannon had him firmly wrapped around her finger. I wondered if she knew that he was crazy about her, and that was why he put up with her bossing him around. He didn’t make a big deal of it, but if I had figured it out just a few weeks after moving here, it didn’t seem likely that Shannon hadn’t. Yet, if she knew, she gave no sign.

The other young man was a stranger to me. He looked like he might be a couple of years older than the others, in his early twenties rather than hanging on to his teens by the skin of his teeth, and he was broader in the shoulders and chest than Josh and a few inches shorter, wearing a denim shirt, collar open and sleeves rolled up to show muscular forearms.

“Ricky, this is Derek and Avery,” Shannon said, sliding into the booth next to Josh. Ricky nodded shyly, a pair of bright blue eyes peering out at us through curtains of dark hair. “Ricky Swanson, you two. You remember Paige, of course.”

I nodded. “Hi, Paige. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been busy,” Paige murmured, with a surreptitious glance at Ricky.

“So what are you two doing out this way?” Josh wanted to know. “Not exactly your usual haunt, is it?”

“So far from the bright lights of downtown Waterfield, you mean?” Derek grinned.

I snorted, and he put an arm around my shoulders and laughed. Waterfield is a very small, sleepy town, with no bright lights to speak of. No nightlife beyond the Shamrock and places like Guido’s, and very little excitement. Melissa James was doing her best to change that, with her petitions to the city council and zoning board to be allowed to develop more land, build more houses, and bring in more business, but Waterfield still clung to its small-town atmosphere. When I first moved here from Manhattan, I thought it was the slowest, most somnolent, boring place on the face of the earth. Now that I’d been here a while, I’d developed an appreciation for the slow pace and friendly folks, although it must be said that I hadn’t tried to stay through a winter yet. Derek had warned me that the downeast winters could be brutal, and I’ll readily admit I wasn’t looking forward to it.

I turned to Ricky. “Did you grow up around here?”

“ Pittsburgh,” Ricky said.

“He transferred in at the beginning of the semester,” Paige explained. “Professor Alexander asked Josh to show him around.”

I guess she was trying to explain what he was doing with their tight-knit little threesome.

“Oh. Too bad. I hoped you might be able to tell me whether there’s any truth to the rumors that the house on Becklea is haunted.” I tried to make it sound like I didn’t care much, but I didn’t succeed very well.