Romancing The Dead by Tate Hallaway Page A

staring at a two-story Tudor surrounded by a low, stone wall. White, purple, and yellow spikes of foxgloves nodded over the wall, like something out of a storybook. Moonflowers climbed an arched trellis I passed under on the way to the front door. Giant hibiscus stood on either side of the door. I rang the doorbell, already hating Walter. This guy was a much better gardener than I, and I knew that was exactly what drew Sebastian to him. I ’d already imagined half a dozen rendezvous between them at the various garden stores around town when the door opened.
    “Hello?” The balding man who opened the door dressed in a fuzzy yellow bathrobe eyed me suspiciously.
    “Are you Walter?” I asked.
    The man shook his head and then called over his shoulder, “Honey, there’s some woman here to see you.”
    “Well, who is it?” came a voice from somewhere inside, “And what does she want?”
    Bathrobe looked to me for the answers. “I’m a friend of Sebastian’s,” I shouted into the interior. Of course, I had no idea if Sebastian gave this guy his real name, or if by naming him all I’d get for my troubles was a door slammed in my face.
    “I’ll be right there,” Walter said.
    Bathrobe stared at me distrustfully while we waited for Walter to arrive. Walter turned out to be a short, bespeckled man in his late forties with wiry hair going gray and frizzy at the edges. I blinked at him.
    “So what can I do for you, miss?” Walter asked, his voice holding a trace of a Brooklyn accent. So this was Sebastian’s man type? My brain was doing a full -on William-like hiccup as I tried to reimagine the hot, sweaty greenhouse trysts with this guy.
    I glanced at Walter’s bathrobed companion and asked, “Have you seen Sebastian lately? It’s just . . . well, he missed a lecture he was supposed to give at the University Club.”
    “Yeah, I know,” Walter said. “Larry and I were there.”
    With Larry? Did they both see Sebastian? “You were?” I croaked incredulously. Larry agreed. “Fifty dollars a head and I never even got to hear about what fun things we could do with the catchfly growing in the back forty.”
    “The catering was awful,” Walter muttered. “Who serves salmon in this heat?”
    This was all too surreal. I tried to get back on topic. “Yeah, but, have you seen Sebastian?”
    Walter shook his head. “I only see him quarterly.”
    Quarterly? What did that mean?
    Larry must have read something in my eye because he laughed. “Oh, darling, she thinks you’re his lover, not his tax accountant.”
    “His lover? In my dreams,” Walter said with a roll of his eyes.
    I laughed too, if only in relief. “Tax accountant,” I repeated. “Of course.”
    “Look,” Walter said, “we’re letting all the cold air out, so I’ll tell you this for nothing: Sebastian does a disappearing act from time to time.” I remembered to nod, and he continued after giving me a once-over. “I’m sure there’s someone else who can fulfill your needs in the meantime, eh?”
    My needs ? Did he think I was a ghoul?
    My first impulse was to demand to know why he’d jumped to that conclusion, then my hands strayed to the thick, slick bandages on my neck. “Oh, this isn’t what it looks like,” I said.
    “Sure,” Walter said skeptically. To his companion, he muttered, “How’d she get our address? Sebastian is usually so discreet, not like some of the others.”
    Others? What, was Walter the accountant to the paranormal underground? “I’m his fiancée,” I said. “I know you’re not concerned, but . . .”
    Walter gasped, and he and Larry exchanged horrified looks. “Married? Sebastian’s getting married? Well, that’s a mistake,”
    Walter muttered. “Think of his assets.”
    “He’ll outlive her, remember,” Larry said quietly, giving me the you-poor-dear look.
    “Still, I think I should insist on a prenup just in case,” Walter said. Then, as if he suddenly remembered I was still standing there, he