who’d discovered the truth while investigating Paul’s and Maxie’s murders, but it wasn’t
my
fault that everyone else in town had found out.
I
don’t run the local newspaper.
I just have a good friend who does.
“I’m so glad to hear it,” I lied. “You remember Jeannie, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Kerin said flatly. She didn’t need to be nice to Jeannie, because Jeannie lived in storm-torn Lavallette (although her home was intact), not Harbor Haven, and her son, Oliver, still less than a year old, would probably never attend Harbor Haven schools. Therefore, Jeannie, in Kerin’s world, didn’t exist.
“I feel exactly the same way,” Jeannie said, taking Kerin’s hand in hers.
I flashed a look at Jeannie in the sort of language only very close friends can exchange without fear of retribution, and she let go of Kerin’s hand. “Well, we should be moving on,” I said pleasantly. Sort of pleasantly. I’m pretty sure I didn’t actually gnash my teeth.
“Oh, I don’t want to hold you up,” Kerin said. “But I’m wondering. Why didn’t you help Everett with his problem?”
Huh? “I’m sorry?” I said. That’s the polite version of
huh?
“Everett,” Kerin repeated, as if it were the identity of the homeless man that was the confusing part of the question. “He wanted you to help him with a ghost problem. Why didn’t you?”
Jeannie’s face hardened, but she knows I don’t let her off her leash unless I think I can’t handle the situation myself.
“You were listening to our conversation?” I asked, just to buy a little time and try to figure out Kerin’s motives.
“Well, I didn’t mean to
eavesdrop
,” she said, affronted at the very notion. Clearly, this was my fault. “But I was right there.” She pointed to where she had stood, perhaps in an attempt to prove she’d been there.
“Must have been hard to ignore,” Jeannie said. “What with us speaking at normal volume and everything.”
I’d say the situation was threatening to turn ugly, but it hadn’t been that gorgeous when it had started. “I didn’t help Everett because I
can’t
help him,” I said. “I’m not a social worker, and I’m not a psychiatrist.”
“No,” Kerin agreed. “You’re the ghost lady.”
Jeannie made a sound like
pfwah
, which indicated that she considered Kerin’s comment something other than brilliant.
“I’m aware that’s what people around town call me,” I said, through what I hoped were not clenched teeth. “But you should know better, Kerin.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “I know better than to know better.”
Kerin had witnessed actual ghostly behavior at my house and had gone around telling many people in town what she’d seen. Rumors had always circulated about my house being haunted, but everybody sort of believed them in the abstract, not the concrete. Kerin’s assertions had been dismissed as the lunatic ravings of a vengeful mind. Because that was more fun.
“You don’t really buy all that stuff, do you?” Jeannie asked.
“It doesn’t matter what people say,” I attempted. “I couldn’t help Everett, or I would have. But his problem isn’t something I can fix.”
Kerin narrowed her eyes. “Of course,” she said. “Well, I’ll see you around town, Alison.” She turned and walked away without acknowledging Jeannie again.
Jeannie shook her head as she watched Kerin turn the corner and disappear. “People in this town are awfully protective of that homeless guy,” she said.
“We are,” I agreed as we headed back to where Jeannie’s car was parked. “He’s a local institution.”
“Your pal there is the one who belongs in an institution,” she said, gesturing toward Kerin’s last known location. “The ghost lady. Really.”
Really.
No. Really.
I had to admit, the ghost-lady thing was more than just a rumor about the house being haunted. See, the ghosts are sort of an asset to my business, in a strange way. (As if they could be an
my
fault that everyone else in town had found out.
I
don’t run the local newspaper.
I just have a good friend who does.
“I’m so glad to hear it,” I lied. “You remember Jeannie, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Kerin said flatly. She didn’t need to be nice to Jeannie, because Jeannie lived in storm-torn Lavallette (although her home was intact), not Harbor Haven, and her son, Oliver, still less than a year old, would probably never attend Harbor Haven schools. Therefore, Jeannie, in Kerin’s world, didn’t exist.
“I feel exactly the same way,” Jeannie said, taking Kerin’s hand in hers.
I flashed a look at Jeannie in the sort of language only very close friends can exchange without fear of retribution, and she let go of Kerin’s hand. “Well, we should be moving on,” I said pleasantly. Sort of pleasantly. I’m pretty sure I didn’t actually gnash my teeth.
“Oh, I don’t want to hold you up,” Kerin said. “But I’m wondering. Why didn’t you help Everett with his problem?”
Huh? “I’m sorry?” I said. That’s the polite version of
huh?
“Everett,” Kerin repeated, as if it were the identity of the homeless man that was the confusing part of the question. “He wanted you to help him with a ghost problem. Why didn’t you?”
Jeannie’s face hardened, but she knows I don’t let her off her leash unless I think I can’t handle the situation myself.
“You were listening to our conversation?” I asked, just to buy a little time and try to figure out Kerin’s motives.
“Well, I didn’t mean to
eavesdrop
,” she said, affronted at the very notion. Clearly, this was my fault. “But I was right there.” She pointed to where she had stood, perhaps in an attempt to prove she’d been there.
“Must have been hard to ignore,” Jeannie said. “What with us speaking at normal volume and everything.”
I’d say the situation was threatening to turn ugly, but it hadn’t been that gorgeous when it had started. “I didn’t help Everett because I
can’t
help him,” I said. “I’m not a social worker, and I’m not a psychiatrist.”
“No,” Kerin agreed. “You’re the ghost lady.”
Jeannie made a sound like
pfwah
, which indicated that she considered Kerin’s comment something other than brilliant.
“I’m aware that’s what people around town call me,” I said, through what I hoped were not clenched teeth. “But you should know better, Kerin.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “I know better than to know better.”
Kerin had witnessed actual ghostly behavior at my house and had gone around telling many people in town what she’d seen. Rumors had always circulated about my house being haunted, but everybody sort of believed them in the abstract, not the concrete. Kerin’s assertions had been dismissed as the lunatic ravings of a vengeful mind. Because that was more fun.
“You don’t really buy all that stuff, do you?” Jeannie asked.
“It doesn’t matter what people say,” I attempted. “I couldn’t help Everett, or I would have. But his problem isn’t something I can fix.”
Kerin narrowed her eyes. “Of course,” she said. “Well, I’ll see you around town, Alison.” She turned and walked away without acknowledging Jeannie again.
Jeannie shook her head as she watched Kerin turn the corner and disappear. “People in this town are awfully protective of that homeless guy,” she said.
“We are,” I agreed as we headed back to where Jeannie’s car was parked. “He’s a local institution.”
“Your pal there is the one who belongs in an institution,” she said, gesturing toward Kerin’s last known location. “The ghost lady. Really.”
Really.
No. Really.
I had to admit, the ghost-lady thing was more than just a rumor about the house being haunted. See, the ghosts are sort of an asset to my business, in a strange way. (As if they could be an
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