Chris Green - Only the Good Die Young

She seemed genuine. But I’d been about zero for fifty in the judgment category lately with Amanda Lee, and I didn’t want to be naive here, too.

“Just a peek?” Twyla said. Then she held three fingers to her temple in a Girl Scout salute. “On my honor, I do, like, realize how important this is to you, and I will not be a pain in your ass. I just want a look around, that’s all.”

I hesitated, then free-fell off the wire, charged up enough now to feel confident in my haunting abilities. “Okay. But if you screw around, I’m calling Cassie.”

Ding-ding-ding! I’d hit it, because Twyla looked like I’d twisted her ear. I had some leverage with this Cassie thing.

She waited for me to zoom toward the mansion’s chimney, then trailed me.

“I swear to God,” she said from behind me. “I can even help you. I can be your shotgun rider.”

So she’d watched a few Westerns. “Save it for Old Seth, Twyla. I don’t need help.”

With that, I plunged down the chimney, knowing she was right on my tail, and when we emerged into the luxurious sitting room, she found her so-called footing and gasped, looking around.

“This is bangin’!”

“Would you shut up?” I whispered.

“God, they can’t hear us. Are you kidding me?”

I gave her the I’m-telling-Cassie look and she zipped her lip. But she didn’t keep it zipped for as long as I would’ve liked.

When she spied the grand staircase, she squealed. “Oh my Ga -od! I’ve been in mansions before, but… A Gone With the Wind staircase. Be still, my heart.”

She slipped up and over the marble railing, sitting for a moment, then letting out a “Yee-haw!” and ghost-riding up to the second floor.

I was almost ready to tell her to get back down here when Gavin sauntered out of the upstairs left-hand hallway and began to descend the steps.

Lying stomach down on the railing, Twyla lifted her head, pointing to him, then making a lustful face.

Jesus.

When he was on his way to the downstairs right hallway, she spoke up.

“What a hunk !” she said, sliding back down, her petticoats huffing until she dismounted at the bottom. “No wonder you’re on this case. I’d, like, really enjoy sliding inside his head. That’s the one whose dreams you saw?”

“Yeah, but do you remember those dreams when Randy described them to you?”

Her mouth made an O shape.

Dragons, blood, a plastic mask with red tears. Very sexy.

Even so, I could feel that life force of his trailing behind him as he came out of the hallway and into the foyer, car keys in hand. He looked exhausted.

“He’s leaving,” Twyla said.

“Probably for work.” I saw from his wet hair that he’d showered. Had he popped a few antisleeping pills, too?

I followed him out the door with Twyla behind me, then waited for him to come out from the garage in his car and ride down the driveway. Even those few minutes made Twyla slightly restless. She kept fluffing her hair, like she was craving a mirror so she could correct her final cosmetic mistakes.

“So what’s next?” she asked.

“I track him to wherever he’s going, watch him, look for an opportunity to get what I need.”

“Ugh.” She got squirrely.

I sighed. “Bored now?”

“Totally. You know, I think I’m gonna dash. Nothing much is going on here, and the beach is close. Surfers, right?”

Thank God for ghost ADD. She’d lost interest because there were probably a million more hunks in wet suits nearby. Maybe one would fall asleep on the beach and she could dream-dig, getting those touches she adored.

“Later,” I said.

She jerked her chin at me, smiled, then flew off, just before Gavin’s Jaguar roared out from the side of the house where the garage was, then down the driveway.

I took off after him, a ghost in the daylight.

A nightmare waiting to happen.

The first part of the day was uneventful: Gavin did go to work, and he was a bummer deal there, too. He buried himself in his computer, utterly ignoring me even when I tried to mess with him by blowing along his arms and chilling him, reminding him that he wasn’t alone.

But he was smart, this guy, and not only was he pretending I didn’t exist—he’d kept his office door open after asking a few of his designers to stay inside for hours as they worked on that Victorian aircraft/fire/dragon game.

That didn’t exactly stop me from trying to initiate a hallucination, in spite of his coworkers, but even that didn’t seem to be working today. He’d somehow found a way to block me even better than Amanda Lee.

The only interesting thing that boded well for the haunting was the fact that Gavin kept his phone in the corner of his desk, and he occasionally glanced at it, then up in the air, in my cold direction.

Every time he did, I dipped down and gave him another feel of my fingers over his skin.

Ghosts exist, I thought to him, like he could hear. Just ask Alicia Dantès .

After I touched him about fifty times—no joke, I was on a roll—he finally reached his limit, grabbing the phone and fishing a piece of paper from his jeans pocket as he walked out of his office, telling his employees he’d be back.

Had I driven him to falling into our mild trap?

I trailed him, recognizing that paper in his hand. Amanda Lee had written on it earlier in the day, and now I could see that it said “Alicia Dantès” just above the number of her disposable phone.

I could feel the tension in him as he went into the hallway restroom, then stared at the writing, then at the phone. After a few strained minutes, he cursed and dialed.

Since I could hear everything, I didn’t miss the barely concealed satisfaction in Amanda Lee’s voice as he asked her to come over tonight to do what she usually did with ghosts.

For the rest of the day, it was like Gavin was pissed at himself for giving in to superstition, and there were a few times he picked up the phone again and paced in front of his long office window as his employees watched him. But he never canceled the appointment, and he even called Constanza to let her know that they would have company tonight. Also, he left a message for Farah before retreating to the office’s bigger work floor, where he lost himself in other consultations with his employees.

Snore.

But when dusk seethed over his office building, he had to go home, and right after we stepped foot into the mansion’s foyer, Farah rushed to the door to stand in front of Gavin.

“I just got home,” she said.

“Good for you.”

“What are you doing, Gavin? What’s going on in the sitting room?”

“I left you a message about it.”

“My phone ran out of juice while I was running errands, and I haven’t plugged it in yet.” She was plucking at her designer lavender pencil skirt, obviously rattled by Gavin’s strange visitor. “Constanza said that you asked that stylist to come in and set up a table with a crystal ball.”

I guessed Amanda Lee had never talked to Farah today, owing to the fact that Gavin had gotten hold of her first.

“Yes, I did clear it, and if you think I’m out of my mind for doing it, I would say you’re right.” I was pretty sure he meant it. “It’s good that she’s already here. That means we can get this over and done with.”

“Get what over?” She looked freaked. “A séance?”

“If that’s what she’s going to do for us. And if you’d met with me last night instead of taking off to James’s, you’d know more about why Alicia Dantès is here. You didn’t listen to my message at all?”

“No. Constanza isn’t sure why there’s a crystal ball involved, either.”